About two years ago I headed up to North Carolina to attempt my return to ultra running. Christine & I picked this cool little race with a 50K (31 miles for me) and a 10 mile run (for Christine). The website talked about elevation gain and mountains, but to a South Louisiana flat lander it didn’t mean that much. Until I started the race.
It kicked my ass. I won’t go into the details, but you can read them here if you are interested. I am proud to say that Christine finished her 10 mile run and has been thoroughly enjoying wearing her Leatherwood Ultra hoodie and drinking from her finishers cup. I didn’t get a cup. I didn’t finish (in case you didn’t read the other post). And my Leatherwood Ultra hoodie is hanging unworn in my closet as I type.
Through dumb luck and hard headedness, I have only had a few DNF’s in my life. My normal routine after a failure is to go back and avenge myself. Unfortunately, shortly after my failed attempt, the race director announced that he had no plans to do the race again. Ouch. Salt meet open bloody cut. It was bad enough that it kicked my ass, but then it ran away before I could even punch back!
And so it has remained for two long years. My hoodie in the closet. A Leatherwood finishers glass (Christine’s) in the cabinet which I refuse to drink out of. And the memory of a defeat that would haunt me. Until I saw this on Facebook:
Immediately I had a chill go up my spine and I tasted blood in my mouth (I think I bit my tongue). Finally! A chance to avenge myself!
And then I saw the title of the race, Sendero de los Muertos. Translation: Trail of the Dead. And the length of the race was listed as 30 to 40 miles. 30 to 40? That’s a pretty big range! What the hell. It’s going to hurt no matter what.
So I signed up today. The race director settled on 34 miles. The race is October 27th. This is going to seriously hurt.
By the way, I am going to crank up the Gut It Out for Crohn’s fundraiser again. Hopefully, I will raise more money and finish this time.