“I’ll find strength in pain, and I will change my ways –

I’ll know my name as it’s called again.”

- Mumford and Sons, “The Cave” (video after post)



Considering that I have more than six years worth of archives at my disposal, it might sound strange to hear that I very rarely look back through my old posts. Rather, I’m the literary equivalent of a hoarder, accumulating posts that seem great at the time, only to be tossed on the pile with all of the other stuff I’ve collected and eventually forgotten, while I periodically remind myself that someday I have to go through and actually do something with all this junk.



Accordingly, it took a relatively unusual set of circumstances to make me re-read my race report from the Western States 100 last week. On separate occasions, a couple of non-running folks took to asking about whether I had ever done any 100-milers before, and if I had done Western States … and like a true introvert, I found it much easier to just e-mail them the link rather than talk my way through the whole experience again. And since I’m just now turning the corner into full-fledged training mode for another 100-miler this July, I thought it might be nice to glance through that report before I sent it along, to remind myself exactly what it was all about.



What I found there actually surprised me.



Almost two years removed from Western States, my lasting memories of the event are overwhelmingly positive: the seemingly endless miles of magnificent Sierra Nevada trails, the beauty of running with a good friend through a warm California night, and the satisfaction of eventually reaching the long-awaited finish line. But when I re-read my own report, I suddenly remembered all of the troubling parts as well. The unexpected aches and pains that came far earlier in the race than I anticipated. The searing heat that nearly wilted me in the middle of the day. The awful predicament of being unable to keep any food or fluids down, but still having well over 40 miles to go.



In short, the race hurt. A lot. And many of those feelings are things I’m not particularly eager to experience again.





Sign from Duncan Canyon, at mile 24 of the Western States 10 0