Four Life-Lessons Learned from Completing an Ultramarthon

This year, I set perhaps the largest BHAG (Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal) I had ever created for myself. I decided to attempt my first ultramarathon, the Run Rabbit Run 50 Miler.

For a small percentage of humans, this is nothing more than a training run. In fact, more than 400 individuals were out on the trail completing the Run Rabbit Run 100 miler while a smaller group of us, around 200, attempted the 50.

People are as beautiful as they are crazy. I am amazed and in awe of athletes that regularly attempt this types of events.

I am not one of them. In fact, I'm not much of a runner at all.

Prior to this event, I had completed a few sprint triathlons, a half-dozen half-marathons, and a single marathon back in 2009. Never competitive in any of them, most of these events were simply used as targets so I wouldn't slack off on my workout schedule.

But then, last November, I turned 50. It feels old. It sounds old. It's supposed to be old. Hell, when you turn 50 there really is no denying you've crested the hill.

That awareness, combined with this impression - real or imagined- that I was supposed to slow down, be more careful, push myself less, just pissed me off.

Signing up for a 50 mile ultramarathon ultimately was my middle-finger to those voices. I'm not dead yet, and I felt the need to prove it - mostly to myself but also to anyone else who doubted me.

I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know if my body could endure it. I certainly didn't know if I could actually complete it.

I just knew I had to try.

I'm thankful I did, and I learned a few things along the way. But first, let me provide a little more information on what the day would entail.

The Challenge

Created in 2012 as a charity run, Run Rabbit Run has evolved into one of the most competitive ultramarathons for top runners across the country.

The 50 began at the base of Steamboat ski resort, ran up to the peak of Mt. Warner, followed single track across mountain ridges, through highland meadows, and along mountain lake shores until you reached Rabbit Ears. After ascending to and literally touching the rock at the top of the pass at just over 10,500 feet, you ran back the way you came. All in all, it included about 9,000 feet of elevation ascension and descension.

The Struggle

The winning runner, who happened to also be 50 years old (super frickin' impressive) completed the 50 in just over 8 1/2 hours.

It took me around 14 1/2 hours.

Despite feeling prepared after nearly 10 months of training, it thoroughly kicked my ass.

I ran into some unexpected obstacles. Three in particular, that made the day particularly challenging.

First, my phone died. I completed an audio book during the first 1/2, but at the turn around realized I had less than 20% battery remaining. I had brought a portable charger, anticipating this may happen, but the back up battery had lost its charge somehow, and I was left ... in silence. By mile 40 or so, my phone had died completely leaving me with no ability to call for help or provide updates to my wife.

Second, I had trained consuming mostly gels and cookies. That seemed to work from an energy standpoint, but I had never trained and eaten these foods exclusively for more than five hours, let alone more than 12.

Turns out eating this stuff for that long has pretty negative ramifications on my stomach. I'll leave out the specifics, but let's just say it made for a long afternoon.

Finally, and unexpectedly, it turns out over the course of a race like this, racers become very spread out.

Left to no external distractions from my dead phone and a seriously pissed off stomach, I found myself trudging mostly uphill for the majority of the second-half of the event with absolutely no other runners in sight for most of the afternoon.

With calf tightness and leg pain becoming more pronounced with each passing mile, I found myself in a mental death match between the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other.

One voice telling me I couldn't go any further, the other telling me to toughen up and soldier on, the two voices literally argued out loud.

Had any one been around to witness this craziness, they would have been reminded more of the drug-crazed zombies walking the streets of downtown Portland than any version of an athlete they may have expected.

As the sunlight faded over the mountains, the pain and agony and frustration of having to finish in the dark congealed into a slow-burning rage. My reaction to all pain is anger, attestable by anyone who has witness the string of expletives that follow any time I stub my toe on the corner of the couch.

As I stumbled down the six-mile descent at the end with a crappy headlamp that completely failed to illuminate the variety of rocks, ruts, and roots, I pretty much hated myself for attempting something so obviously beyond my skill level.

The Redemption

Fortunately, I had been keeping an eye on my pace. Despite becoming slower and slower as I struggled towards the base of the mountain, I never really had any doubt I would meet the 15-hour cutoff.

With no updates for hours, my wife at the finish line shared no such confidence in me.

About a mile or so from the finish line, people began lining the remaining path towards the finish. With both the 100 mile race and the 50 sharing the last few miles, they awaited their own loved ones to make the final appearance.

Graciously, they shared kind words of encouragement with me and the other stragglers, giving me a much needed boost after hours of self-loathing.

And then I crossed the finish line, and it all disappeared.

The frustrations of being slower than planned, the unbearable leg pain, the doubt and mental abuse by the less-kind of the two voices, the self-loathing.

It all disappeared.

I had made it.

I had done it.

Completely drained, but fully content, I was an ultramarathoner.

The Lessons

A week or so after the event, one of my associates called genuinely interested in hearing about my experience. Towards the end of the call, he asked me what I had learned.

Unprepared for that question, I stumbled through an answer. Apparently he found my answer satisfactory because he asked me to share those lessons with our sales team, and that conversation became the genesis of this article.

Here's what I shared with them, and now share with you.

1. It's Supposed to be Hard

Today more than ever, we are constantly tempted by the "easy life."

With endless dopamine hits from social media, to every TV commercial promoting instant gratification, it's easy to forget that life is supposed to be hard.

The first noble truth of Buddhism is the pervasive presence of suffering in our lives. Christ was crucified before risen. Light always follows darkness.

When we grasp this, this idea of difficulty, we become empowered.

When we expect difficulty, we can train for it.

When we train for difficulty, we become resilient, or even better, antifragile.

Our muscles become stronger when we move heavy things. Our love grows deeper when we go beyond the honeymoon phase, understand that our partners have flaws, and accept them in totality.

When we intentionally embrace, or at least accept, that there will be some hard things, we accelerate the gifts that come from the going through them.

2. Success Happens in the Dark

"Doing hard things" is a habit that must be practiced, or like all habits, it will be lost. - Mark Manson

Knowing that obstacles make us stronger, we must learn to go through the obstacles.

We have to become willing to endure. If you want to run 50 miles, you cannot show up at the starting line without logging some miles in advance. If you want to learn to plan an instrument, you're going to have to accept you'll hit some wrong notes.

And then you have to do it anyways.

Call it commitment, resilience, or discipline, you have got to do the work before you can find competency in anything.

We have to have to be humble enough to embrace the inevitable suck before we find success.

We have to do the work.

Had I not been willing to wake up in the pre-dawn hours, I would never have made it to the finish line. It wasn't easy, but it also wasn't an accident that I finished. I had done the work month-after-month-after-month leading up to the race.

Everything becomes easier with reps, and you have to be willing to do the reps when no one is watching. You have to put in the work.

Want to become a better presenter? Learn a new language? Learn to play an instrument? Become a writer? Become less reactive? Control your temper? Quit an addiction? Earn wealth?

Hope is not a plan. Winning the lottery isn't a strategy.

Commit to doing the work.

3. There's a Formula to Flourishing

I used to believe that the purpose of life was to expand, to grow. I thought if I continued to learn, it would lead to ultimate fulfillment. To be a lifetime learner was the key, I believed.

Over time, I've come to realize the real objective is to flourish. It's to move each day a little closer to realizing our full potential.

Fortunately, this idea has been well studied. Martin Seligman wrote a book called Flourishing, where he introduces the acronym PERMA. The path to flourishing being Positive Emotions, Engagement, Relationships, Meaning, and Achievement.

Brian Johnson with Heroic.us simplified PERMA into a formula. It's:

Work + Relationships + Energy = Flourishing.

Meaningful work, service to others, love and connection, and building healthy habits around sleep, diet, exercise, and inner peace all work together to create fulfillment.

I have come to believe that the energy component exponentially fuels the others.

It's nearly impossible to pour from an empty cup. So, taking care of ourselves becomes the accelerant in our ability to serve and love others.

If you're going to do the work in the dark, start with energy.

4. People are Amazing

Running 50 miles, for me, was truly a Big Hairy Audacious Goal. Attempting it, let alone completing it, gave me an unshakeable sense of accomplishment and confidence. I know something about myself now that I didn't know before.

While I was struggling through my own crucible, another 150 people or so finished the 50 miles along side of me, nearly all of them faster than me.

And while we were having our little stroll, another 300 people ran 100 miles.

Fucking amazing.

People are amazing.

When we allow ourselves to see the beauty in others, we see beauty everywhere.

Whether it's watching Freddie Freeman knock a grand slam over the wall for a walk-off win during the World Series, or seeing a stranger sit down at one of the public pianos scattered around Old Town Fort Collins to play an enchanting melody, there is talent everywhere.

And if you are a people, you're amazing too.

I ran across picturesque mountain landscapes in arguably some of the most beautiful geography in the United States, but that was secondary to all the goodness happening on that terra firma.

It wasn't just the athletes, but the volunteers at the aid stations tirelessly ringing the cowbells we could hear miles ahead, encouraging us to keep moving towards the sound.

It was the person who took my backpack and graciously refilled my water bladder so I could rest and eat a banana.

It was my wife waiting at the finish life to give me one of the most welcomed hugs I have ever received.

It's easy to get seduced by negativity. It's everywhere, if that's what you want to see.

But, please be reminded that you have a choice.

So, embrace the hard, do the work, take care of yourselves, and be kind to others.

You too have the ability to flourish.