Last month I ran my very first race. I hit the wall at mile 29.No, that's not a typo. I was running the Huff 50k , a small, but established trail race in Huntington, Indiana. And if you haven't Googled 50k yet, yes, it is longer than a Marathon. 31.0685596 miles to be exact. (But who's counting?)"So for your first race, you chose an Ultramarathon, in the middle of winter?"Yep.I would say I received mixed reactions when I told people I was running a 31 miles through the woods of Indiana in the middle of December, but honestly, I didn't; everyone thought I was nuts. Some were equal parts impressed, many were encouraging, but ultimately, all were pretty convinced I was at least mildly insane. Myself included.Because really, what would compel a racing virgin, someone who had to ask where the bib number and velcro strap went; someone who, not two months earlier, literally laughed at the idea of running a marathon; someone who just spent five minutes trying to remember the actual term is "bib" and not "number tag thingy", to sign up to run 31 miles?An internship Ready to have me committed yet? Then stand in line, because yes, I may sound a little off my rocker, but if pushing myself light years further than I could have ever imagined is insane, then bring on the straight jacket, cuz I have no intention of recovering.I must admit though, when Connie asked if would like to do a guest post, after being delighted and honored, I was a little stuck; how do you begin to tell others about the biggest challenge you've ever taken on? How do you explain the rationale for your craziness? And how do you get across that it all goes way beyond what you see at the surface. Because let's face it, running, is about so much more than running.I suppose however, like any race, the beginning is probably a good start. So grab a gel pack, keep the hamstrings loose and read on for my harrowing tale about running Ultramarathon, and what it taught me about be a successful runner, and just being a success.

The universe is all about 'tough love'



Simple does not equal easy



I mentioned to my mom one evening I was planning on doing 10 miles; "How do you run 10 miles?" She asked with slight bewilderment.



"You put one foot forward, and then take the other foot and put that one forward..."



She rolled her eyes, dismissing my response as just another helping of sarcasm, but it was true. There is no secret to running. You don't have to take classes or tutorials; you don't have to click your heels three times, find some magic beans or collect 100 specially marked box tops to become a runner. You just have to put one foot in front of the other, and repeat.



Too many times we commit our own sabotage by over-thinking; running an ultramarthon is simple. Saving money is simple. Losing weight is simple. Climbing Mount Everest, choosing what's best for you, letting go of what and who is wrong for you, are all simple.



But they are sure as hell not easy.



When we see goals as complicated, it's much easier to let ourselves off the hook. But in reality, we're really just letting ourselves down. So quit thinking so much. The answers are simpler than we might care to admit, but once we do, that's when we can finally start to make progress towards our goals.



No, seriously, how do you run 31 miles?



Foot, meet pavement; pavement, foot.



Ok, so the mechanics of it are simple. We've covered that. The real question is not how do you run any distance, it's how do you keep your head from getting in the way of your feet?



This was my biggest issue when I first came to running. It is what kept me away from it, beyond what I was made to by a coach after practice.



And honestly, the physical training is a cinch; the human body is an amazing piece of machinery--you follow a certain routine, and you will get stronger, faster, more efficient--in virtually every case. That of course, requires you to actually stick with it.



Had you told me in June I would have completed ANY type of foot race, much less an Ultramarathon, I would have laughed in your face and then called the authorities because you are clearly unstable. Running, I meanrunning? Isn't that one of the circles of hell? Ugh, no thank you. Not for me.At least, so I thought.Now I didn't just wake up last week, realize I had feet and thought I'd drive down to Indiana to run a 50k in hopes of getting a job in Singapore. (Not exactly, at least.)I have always been active; between lacrosse playing, reffing, and daily elliptical sessions, my cardiovascular system wasn't exactly collecting dust. But the mental toll of running with no other objective than to just run was not something I ever thought I'd get past. I could spend 7 hours on the lacrosse field and be fresh as a daisy, but take away that little rubber ball and my mind would follow suit.As the weather warmed and I grew tired of looking at the same sweaty people from the elliptical at the gym, I took part in my annual replacing the bike that got stolen/broken/disappeared and took my new wheels to the lakefront path. I was smitten. Just a few weeks of biking and I was seeing the path more and more each day, sometimes doing 20 mile rides, just for fun.Then one morning I rode my bike in to work. I took the L home.There was a fuzzy video of the bike-napping on camera, but police were not encouraging."There's not much we can do."It seemed I was not meant to own a bike.I went back to my elliptical with vigor, but it just was not the same. I had tasted fresh air. So, one day, I went for a run. It was hard. And it hurt. But wouldn't you know, I kinda liked it.And my shoes were much harder to steal.First off, the term is " broke ", and it's everywhere.Think back to the most recent thing that went "right" in your life; to a moment when you thought "hey, I may be on to something." Now think back to the most recent disappointment before that. Had things gone they way you had planned, would you still have had that "right"? What good part of your life would be missing?I'm not big on "destiny"; I'm not going to tell you some things "weren't meant to be" or that there's a reason behind every failure or misstep, because honestly, I don't know. If I did, the website would be JenHealyNow.com/JenKnowsEverything.But what I do know is that if you come to a road block, you don't just sit in your car and lament over it, you figure out another route. Maybe that means going around. Maybe that means going backwards. The bottom line: you keep moving. And call it destiny or just dumb luck, but you may end up finding out this detoured route is a much better option anyway.How? Be your own Drill SergeantOr coach, or mother, or school marm, or whatever split personality image that works best for you. As dedicated as I was to following-through, and as hooked on the runner's high I've become, I'm human. There are days when running, especially in the dead of winter, is not on the top of my list of things I want to do right then. Sometimes I've got so much else going on, I just don't know f I can find the time for 11 miles along the lake.And sometimes, I let myself off the hook. But other times, I know, I don't have a choice.Right after I signed up for the Huff 50k, I told myself I needed to do 13.1 the next day--my own half marathon. I was not on a formal training schedule. At the time, 17 had been my personal best for distance. This was honestly just an arbitrary number I pulled out of the air. But mentally, it was just one of the many challenges I was going to throw at myself over the next 6 weeks.The skies and Tom Skilling threatened unfriendly weather all day. After hours of putting it off and what looked like a relenting sky, I made my way to the path.Two miles in it started hailng.Like, big time; sharp pellets, whipping winds, steady rains, and temperatures hovering just below 50 at best.My running parole officer had no sympathy."You're the nut job who just signed up for a 50 kilometer race in the middle of December; you should have been out here hours ago; you can't control the weather on race day. You said you're going to do this and you're going to do this ."Drill-Sergeant Jen is kind of a bi-yatch.But only when it's necessary. And when I had other milestones, like 20 and 25, it was. Drill-Sergeant Jen will not buy any of my BS. She doesn't care if it's cold, or if I'm tired, or I've got plans later, or it's kind of snowing a lot, or whatever excuses may start to creep in my head."You're doing this today. So figure your sh*t out."Even imaginary drill-sergeants are less than warm and cuddly.And I knew that when I showed up to that trail in Indiana, I was not leaving until I crossed that finish line. Would it be painful? Would it be slow? Perhaps. But it was the only option.So don't just set a goal for yourself, set an expectation. Sign up for that marathon; "ground" yourself until those job applications are sent out; tell your friends about that project you're planning so you're held accountable. Stop giving yourself an easy out. Sometimes the only way to get yourself to swim is by having the only alternative be to drown. It's only then do you find out just how good a swimmer you really are.

Stop thinking to really start thinking



Indiana is not flat. Like, at all.



While I knew a trail run would be a whole 'nother ballgame than the smooth, flat, rock and branch-free lakefront path, knowing is different from experiencing. Beyond the physical toll, the ice covered, hill-laden, ankle-hating trail made if more difficult to avoid the mental panic. Towards the end of my first 10+ mile loop, I started getting nervous. My pace was significantly slower, my legs significantly wearier. This is not how I usually feel after 8 miles. Was I really going to do this twice more?

Damn straight I was. I drove four hours to be there. People knew I was running this. I paid for all 50k. I was going to get my money's worth.

As much as I enjoy running, I still have to fight my head sometimes. Every runner does, no matter how many miles their legs have seen. And that is where marathoners, and ultramarathoners, are created: in the mind.

So what do you do when your head starts to mess with your feet? Don't let it.

When fear and doubt start to set in, you need to jar yourself out of that negative thought pattern. You look up. You look forward. If it were a scene from The Terminator, it'd be like when the bad robot gets back up and does that liquid healing thing; everything just locks in. You focus on what's in front of you. And what's in front of you should be a little scared. And then you let that focal point recede into your mind's eye, and let it wash over you.

A good run is the mental equivalent of cleaning out your closet. You start pulling out all the clutter and throwing it over your shoulder. The stuff that no longer suits you; the stuff that you no longer want or need; that's just taking up the space that can be used for something better.

You just let it go.

And once you stop thinking, is when you really start to think. Not about the little nonsense you think about day to day, but in a flowing stream of consciousness you just can't replicate standing still.

And then, you may even start to smile. A big, goofy smile, that makes those you pass wonder if they have toilet paper on their shoe or if someone behind them is making funny faces, because it seems so out of nowhere.

And that smile is not because it's suddenly easy, but because you're doing it. And to throw out a classic, Tom Hanks said it best in A League of Their Own:

"It's supposed to be hard. If it was easy, everyone would do it. It's the hard, that makes it great."

So quit letting your thoughts get in the way of your thinking. Don't let yourself get beat mentally when you can do so much more physically. I read an ad in a Runner's Magazine:



"It does not matter how slow you go so long as you do not stop."

Thank you to all who supported, tweeted, texted, and at least pretended not to think I was completely insane for doing this, as well as a special thank you to Connie, aka Marathon Missfit for allowing me to share my two (make that 33) cents, and even more for being such inspiration by example. It's partially your fault I got myself into this. And Ana, for enduring the Bates Motel, freezing temps, and 8+ hours in the car with me, all to make sure I didn't get stuck crippled in the middle of Indiana.

Too often we bring them to us; we make judgments about what were capable of by looking solely at what we've done in the past, instead of seeing what we could be. We pick an arbitrary spot, and settle in. We start building walls made out of "can't" and "never" and suddenly we're stuck.Stop creating your own limits. Because yes, you have them. They are out there somewhere, but they may be a lot further than you thought.Lap two was amazing. I now knew what to expect from the ground. The pack had thinned out. I could go a mile and not see another soul. It was beautiful. I was doing this.I passed by what would be the finish line the next time I saw it. Each mile marker I told myself I would not see again. And while I told myself not to worry about time, that 6 hour mark was in reach to break. I added another chip to the table.I passed the marathon mark.I kept going.I was doing this.And then, with less than five miles left, my legs turned to lead. The Great Wall of China had dropped in front of me. I kept going, panic, real, honest to god panic starting to set it. The mental tricks weren't helping. This was beyond be out-thinking myself, this was my legs saying "no".I had seen others walking at different junctures of the race. I even overheard a man passing along the advice he received to walk the hills. I hadn't walked. I hadn't planned on walking any length. To do so seemed like to accept defeat. I had just over three miles left. I could do three miles standing on my head. But it was the hardest little run I had ever attempted. My legs felt like they had been dipped in cement. I couldn't keep this up. I needed to walk for just a little bit."Just make it to the next mile marker and you can start walking. Just get there."I frantically searched the trees for the "Mile 9" sign I had passed twice before. Did it fall down? Did I pass it? How long is this mile??Finally, I realized I was only making it harder on myself. So, about 2 miles from the finish line, I started walking.Dammit.I repeated that Confucius quote in my head.It was a waste of time beating myself up for having to slow down. And it is one thing to hit a mental roadblock, but as an athlete, when it's your body that has betrayed you, it's such a hard pill to swallow.But I kept going. It didn't matter, as long as I did not stop.I didn't walk long in the grand scheme of the race. Maybe a mile at most. I didn't really know. And honestly, it didn't really matter. I had more important things to worry about, like finishing.I started to recognize a clearing of the woods. The finish line was not much further. A mile. 1.5 tops. I started to run again.The walk had done me some good. Some of the concrete seemed to have fallen off."You can run a mile. A mile is nothing. Just do this one more mile."And then I started to see it. The finish. I picked up speed once more, waiting for something to give out from under me.It didn't. I crossed. Just passed the 6 hour, 21 minute mark.Respectable."I never want to do that again," I believe were the first words I uttered to my friend awaiting me at the finish line as she handed me my coat. I just held it. I felt almost drunk. I started to hobble towards the tent, someone behind me grabbed my shoulder."Did you get your medal?"I stared at her blankly for a moment. "Uh, no..." I muttered.She had already put it in my hand."You've earned it."Ya, I guess. I did.After regaining part of my wits about me (which involved eating upwards of three bowls of soup, chili, and a sleeve of cookies) I tried to process what I had just done. That was it. I did it. I ran 33 miles.Wait, 33? It was thirty THREE?Did I Google it wrong?What?!I really did yell that when the e-mail came through the next dayWait, how long were those loops??More than 31 miles. I stared at the page: There it was under "Distance": 33 miles.So I didthe whole time. Plus a two mile fun run.Kick-ass.But honestly, even if it had been spot-on 31.07 miles. Had I, god-forbid, give myself a break at any point along the route, that did not take away from what I accomplished. I finished a 33 mile race, an Ultramarathon, through the woods, in the dead of a winter cold snap, my first race ever. And I did it faster than some newbies run marathons. I did it faster than half the women I ran against. But what matters most is not what others did, but what I did. Too many times we take away from our own accomplishments by comparing to others, when in fact, the ruler we're using isn't even universal anyway.The only person you should ever compare yourself to is yesterday's you. And I kicked yesterday-me's butt.So, how do you run 33 miles?You run a mile. 33 times.You put one foot in front of the other. Repeat. You go as far as you can as hard as you can, and then you take one more step.And do not, for a second think that you cannot do this. I am not Usain Bolt. I never will be. Honestly, I am an average runner at best. Really. What I excel at, is pushing myself.So where are your limits? Do you have any idea?Probably not. So you better get out there and find them. And when you do: push them down. Because they are not finite. They can be moved. If you push them hard enough, they will fall down.I will tell you this: my limits are not in Indiana. Not if I can help it And internships, medals, challenges aside, there's really only one reason I did this. Why I will continue to do this.I just felt like running.Still think I'm crazy? Ok, commit me. I'll go quietly.But you're going to have to catch me first.