Dear Body, Thank You for Not Quitting on Me
Part 5: Cayuga Trails 50
This is where we left off:
Next 10-mile loop ahead. With no runners in sight, I began humming the last song from my car:
God is great, give Him all the praise
Hallelujah, Name above all Names
Fire in His eyes, healing in His veins
Everywhere His glory on display…
I needed to shift my focus to gratitude rather than dwelling on the discomfort in my left foot and ankle. It worked.
Instead of thinking I have 25 miles left, I broke the race into chunks. I paid attention to my surroundings. What do I see, hear, and smell?
Those lovely stone steps again. I placed my hands on my thighs and climbed one at a time, grateful I'd made it this far. My sneakers felt good, no distracting pebbles rolling around.
Now, get to the next aid station at mile 29. I grabbed a banana, thanked the volunteers, and headed for the meadow trail. The ruts weren't kind to my left ankle, but I kept my eyes focused just ahead, navigating the uneven ground. Even the steep vertical climb coming up looked better than this. Back to walking, eager to reach the top and run again. Perfect time for another gel.
I heard two runners approaching from behind as I sipped from my flask.
“What time do you want to finish?”
“I was hoping for 10 hours, but after 5:30 for the first 25 miles, I'm shooting for 11.”
I smiled. I could relate. As they passed, I matched their pace. We moved single-file as oncoming runners approached, exchanging encouragement. Then I saw my friend, we high-fived as we passed.
“Stay strong,” I called out.
I took a deep breath and listened to my own words. Stay strong. Fatigue was setting in, blisters pulling at me, but I ignored it. This is temporary. This isn't urgent.
I prayed. I focused on my breath and my mantras: Be brave and believe. Courage over comfort. Just get to the next aid station.
Rolling up to the main aid station again, I realized—just one more loop! Yes, 15 challenging miles, but just one more! Volunteers refilled my bottles while I sipped warm vegetable broth. I was getting cold, grateful to sip something warm. I grabbed more gels, but didn’t think to grab my gloves from my drop bag and took off, not wanting to linger.
I broke this 15 mile loop into mental sections. First up—cross the creek.
As I stepped into the creek, my left foot sighed with relief. The ice-cold water felt wonderful. Three runners were approaching from the opposite direction: one wading through the water, another sliding down the muddy bank with laughter after slipping, and the third trying desperately not to follow.
I couldn't help but smile at the scene. We called out encouragement to each other, and when I reached the far side, I faced my own challenge: how to climb up the slick, muddy bank.
I figured I'd crawl up, digging my fingers into the soft mud. As I dragged myself up, I spotted a small patch of grass just long enough to grab. Those roots were strong, and I was grateful. I laughed as I dug my left hand into the mud and gripped the grass with my right, fighting to keep moving forward rather than slip backwards into the water.
Back on my feet, I wiped my hands on my shirt, sneakers squeaking with each stride. I made it. Thank you, Lord.
Next section to conquer: the muddy meadow and wobbly boards.
To be continued…
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The stuff of folklore, Julie B. Hughes! You set a fine example through both words and actions.
You climbed and conquered!