Your Sports Story
By Staff • Jul 1st, 2009 • Category: Interact, Missy's Musings
What’s your story?
Maybe you came to sport late.
You found it in the gym or the studio.
Maybe you discovered it early, on a court or a course.
Maybe it’s walking, maybe it’s running, maybe it’s dance or yoga or swimming or hiking. Maybe you found your sport when you saw your daughter transformed by that first athletic success and knew that your own transformation was out there waiting for you. Maybe you found it on your way to something else—a kid’s practice, a healthier life, a friend’s race. But no matter where each of our sports stories begins, we all end up at the same place, a place where we are becoming our own best selves.
Tell us your story!
Founder, Missy Park
Email this author | Written by: Staff
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I signed up to do the Army Ten Miler in April 2009 when registration opened. I am not a runner…and have never ran more than a 5K in my life so I’m not sure what possessed me to sign up to run 10 miles in October. Maybe it was turning 40, maybe it was being unemployed..or maybe it was just to prove I could. Anyway…the months passed and I finally started running in June with some friends at the gym. 5 of us meet T/TH mornings to run at 5 AM. It as ugly at first….but gradually we ran farther and finally could do a 5K distance comfortably. I pulled a calf muscle in Aug and spent most of the month recuperating. By September, with the race less than a month away, it was time to up the mileage and we started running 5 miles at least once a week if not twice. Some days I would come home and run a few more miles with my husband after we dropped our daughter off. The most I ever ran was 7 miles. The race was finally here and on Sunday, I ran the entire 10 miles with my husband. I was thrilled..what a sense of accomplishment. So much of running is mental and I was able to get through all of them. I never hit the wall and felt like I could have run farther. Maybe a 1/2 marathon is in my future? Either way, I’ll be back to running on Tuesday!
I came by my “sport” by my cardiologist telling me one day “you are too damn fat, I no longer want to be your doctor. You are going to kill yourself one day.” I went home and cried and cried and cried. How could someone be that mean? He was right, I weighed close to 320 lb. I decided that I would show him so I started walking. I couldn’t even walk a block, I didn’t stop. A year later I was running. I lost 147 lbs. 3 years later I had that heart attack the doctor had warned about. I survived because my heart was so healthy. I’ve run more races than I can count. I LOVE trail running. It’s my goal to do a “fat-ass 50 miler” for my 50th birthday. Because of that doctor I found my life. I also found out I COULD do anything I put my mind to.
This is my story of running my first 50 miler ultra. I am a 46 year, single working mom that got into running about 2 1/2 years ago. Never being athletic, this was huge for me (I suppose for anyone), I mean, huge. Hope this is what you are looking for in terms of stories.
Ready for another running story………well, have a seat, relax, and listen to my journey.
So it all started this spring, when I paced Rick in his first 100 miler and unexpectedly did 40 miles of it. I felt great and was so proud that Rick completed in 23:17, reaching his goal of under 24 hours. Then next thing I know, he says “you know, you should do your OWN ultra now – you just did 40, you can do 50.” Mind you, I had told Rick many times, I would NEVER do an ultra event. For those of you who are not in the running world, anything longer than a marathon (26.2 miles) is considered an ultra event. Typical distances for an ultra is 50K, 50 miles, 100K, 100miles. And most ultras are small events, 250 runners or less, and are usually on trails in beautiful locations – it is you and nature at its best. Since ultra events are so long, one key thing about them is that you need to keep well fueled, both in fluids and calories (yes, you need to “eat and run”). So in a 50 mile run, you are burning about 6000 calories. On to my story…….
A month after Rick’s 100 miler, I ran the Flying Pig marathon in Cincinnati. And after that, my race schedule was empty……..that is until Rick put an application on my windshield for North Country 50 miler. He also had one for Bill, our “master.” And off we went. I looked at various training schedules, but I really only have room to run 4 days a week, so I made up my own with the goal of peeking with 55 mile/ weeks and some 4 – 5 hour training runs. I invested in a Nathan High Intensity Hydration Vest (most people know the name Camelbak, but it is essentially a backpack that can carry 70 oz. of fluid with a hose that comes up front to drink from) and got running. Fortunately, for me, the summer was a fairly cool one which was great for training. My main running companion for my loooong runs on Sat. was Bill where we would do 24 miles at Kensington, starting at 5:45am – for those that know Bill, yes, I had to endure his chatter for 4 hours every Sat.:). I don’t know anybody that can make the time go as fast as him. And then, on Thurs I would do trail running at Maybury with Rick and Francesca and whoever else showed up.
Somehow, my race schedule began to fill up too. The Crim (10 mile race in Flint) on Aug. 22nd, then a week off, then Milford 30K on Sept 5th, Dances With Dirt relay Sept 12th, North Country 50 miler Sept. 19th, another week off, Brooksie, a half marathon on Oct. 4th, another week off, Detroit Marathon Oct. 18th. Ahhhhhhh…… well, at least I get to eat a lot of ice cream:).
Sept 18th, head up to Manistee for North Country with Rick. About an hour into the drive we realize Bill and his wife are behind us. That night after we get our packets, we met some other runners at Big Al’s for pizza, and I gave Bill and Rick shirts that said “Coach 1″ and “Coach 2″ on the front and “you can do more than you think you can, you are more than you think you are” on the back.
Sat, Sept. 19th, up at 4:45am, ate breakfast, off to the trailhead. There were about 200 runners altogether, probably 2/3 doing the marathon “fun run” and the rest of us doing the 50 (2 25 mile loops). I was feeling good, relaxed, ready to go. The trail was mostly single track, with a big hill at 1 mile, another at 10 mile, rolling hills in between, then very hilly the last 10 miles (it was a mountain biking trail, rated “most difficult”). There were aid stations every 3 to 4 miles, each had its theme (like Margaritaville) and each had Gatorade, water, PB & J sandwiches, chips, M & Ms, cookies, bananas, grapes. Since there were more on the first loop (marathoners and 50 milers), we would sometimes have trains of 20 people with us, generally Bill was in the lead ’cause he knew I would go out too fast. The last 10 miles of that first loop were tough and I wasn’t looking forward to doing it again. When our first 25 miles was complete, we were back at the start finish. I changed my shirt, refilled my Nathan, had a cup of tea (oh sure, why not after 25 miles, even sat down to drink it thanks to Bill’s suggestion). And the toll for the first half was 1 fall with a bloody knee, 1 cliff bar, 4 GUs (100 calorie electrolyte gels), 8 S-caps (sodium) and 50 oz of Gatorade/water mix. I came in feeling like “how am I going to do another 25 miles?” and left with ‘I can do this’ – good break for me mentally.
Now I was doing the pacing, Bill just left me to do whatever felt right. One thing about running for me is that I think it brings out my strengths and weaknesses all at once. So at about mile 31, I stopped, I just felt like crying. And Bill had already told me I could only cry after I finished the race. “Bill, I know you told me I couldn’t cry, but I have to cry.” Bill told me to go ahead and cry. And then the heaviness in my chest was gone, I felt great. I got in my zone and for the next 11 miles, I cruised, running hills I probably shouldn’t have, but it felt so good. Stopping at aid stations actually was hard for me, I wanted to keep moving. So I would stop to get water and go, Rick and Bill would then catch up to me. But I also was concerned that I wasn’t eating, everything just looked unappetizing. I tried chips once and grapes once, but couln’t do it. And at mile 42, it got the best of me. I was incredibly nauseous and told the guys, I was done. I hit a wall and it was brick. I told them I would just lie down on the side of the trail and someone would eventually find me. I told them I was NEVER running again. There were a few other things I said that will stay on the trail:). They somehow got me moving, the nausea passed, and we walked. Mile 47, I’m seeing spots, things are moving around me, and I’m thinking I’m going down and wondered if they had IVs at the end. I was at the top of a hill and Rick was already down. He looked back and said “I have to come up to get you” (you are missing the intonation here). He took my hand and never let go til we crossed the finish line. Bill was at my heels, in fact so close, he kept kicking me. Ok, now before we cross the finish line, the toll on the second loop, 2 more falls (the wound on my knee just kept getting bigger), NO FOOD, 4 GUs, 8 S-caps, 70 oz of Gatorade/water. Essentially, I had consumed about 1200 cal, burned 6000, and as Rick put it “bonked” at mile 42 and 47 from a huge calorie deficit.
FINISH LINE!! They told me I HAD to run across it and holding my hands (hey, guys, I don’t have my arms to swing……..so what, just run), we did it. 12:18 was my time and 12:30 was the time limit. Both Bill and Rick knew they had to keep me moving to get there before the time limit no matter how bad I looked or sounded. No tears at the finish, just a huge smile and big hugs to my coaches. I really don’t know how I could have done it without them, so big kudos to Rick and Bill. I know I wasn’t the only first-time 50 miler out there, but I was the best supported.
What’s next………I told you, I am NEVER running again
. Well, at least this week I won’t.
Thanks for listening (if you made it this far) and all the support you have given me to make this happen. I wish for everyone to have an experience like this – not that you have to run 50 miles necesarily, but try for something that seems beyond your reach and go for it with the support I had.
I was one of those crazy, competitive girls who trained for the Presidential Physical Fitness Test in elementary school! My fifth grade teacher chastised me for arm wrestling (and beating) the boys, telling me it wasn’t “lady-like.” In high school I played varsity field hockey (goalie), volleyball, and softball (3rd base). I could have played intercollegiate field hockey, but self-destructive behaviors (eating disorders and addiction) got the best of me. For several years, I turned away from sports.
Once I resumed regular physical activity, I steered clear of all competitive contexts. I was terrified I would either become obsessed or hate myself for not being good enough. It was not until my mid-30s that I became willing to challenge the demons of perfectionism. For two summers I participated in 4-5 local sprint triathlons each summer. In my late 30s, I began volunteering as a referee for AYSO (American Youth Soccer Organization). My 40th birthday present to myself was training for and completing the Portland Marathon. At 41, I took up playing soccer. I worked as a high school soccer referee for two seasons. I’m now 45, play on 3 indoor soccer teams and, because I am a grad student, I take soccer classes at the local university. I still love to hike, run, bike, swim, and workout at the gym.
Okay, so maybe I do still tend toward the obsessive end of the continuum. The good news, however, is that I have been content to train as much as I reasonably can within the context of my adult life and responsibilities, and to be average at the activities in which I participate. For me enjoying sports without feeling the need to excel on a grand scale is the best reward of all!
When I grew up, short, big-busted girls weren’t supposed to be interested in sports. But I did like walking and camping, which led to a career in forestry with some firefighting, I bought sports bras (thanks for having my size) and somewhere along the way, I realized I could outwalk most folks. At that point, I was diagnosed with severe arthritis. I learned to pack burros when I could no longer carry a pack, I keep my weight down and my nutrition up, and I keep moving. It’s not sports, it’s living.