lessons from my last 42km
diaries of pain
training for my upcoming 100km in Vallarta and decided to go on a quick 42km run last Friday. In heavy rain. In the mountains.
The first lesson here is to not over-plan. A lot of people ask me how I accomplish so much with the same 24 hours in a day. My recipe is the Just On Time philosophy. JOT means pure efficiency: I don’t lose time overanalyzing or planning.
It’s raining? That’s even better. Obstacles are opportunities.
I had this 42km run in my calendar probably 1-2 weeks ago but with life happening I had to skip it. The park I’d run into would not be opened, had other stuff on the calendar, etc.
As I left the house to start this micro journey I forgot something important: cash to buy water. So even before I got started the journey got “aborted”, I had to come back home, but still: energy efficiency → no stress. Always bring cash on long runs.
I’d run in my Vibram barefoot “training shoes”. I arrived to the park which would be my torture partner for the next hours: Luis Donald Colossio. Altitude: 1500m. The park is a simple 500m loop that’s up and down: perfect to train.
The rain is pouring heavily: great I don’t have to stop to pee. Now I understand why goggins love running in the rain. Side effects of peeing yourself: chafing. The pain grows later on.
Stomach pains are also part of the game. My stomach wasn’t tip-top that day. It delayed the run by 1-2 hrs the time I took to drink tea and try to fix it. I ate spicy stuff the day before.
I’m listening to music on my iwatch and get great moments. But the fun comes to a close when the guard announces he’s closing the park 1hr before its normal closing time: I was the only guy in the full park for the last 2-3 hrs. He’d observe me and be like'“this guy is crazy”.
So I have to quickly find a Plan B: I’m about 26 kilometres (16miles) in and need to finish this up. All wet, with a stomache and it’s becoming dark now. My gym is near so instead of finishing on hard tarmac in the dark I decide to finish my run in the gym. I could also refill my water bottles which are now empty.
So I head to the gym, happy and jolly to get out of the loop. Once on the treadmill, i’m reminded of how I hate crunching k’s on treadmills; they’re static, boring and you have a TV in front of your face. they stop every 30 minutes. But fortunately, there’s the Stanley Cup finals playing.
Then I make the silly mistake of thinking that 16 miles = 32km. So in my mind, I only have 10km left, while in reality, I have 17km to do, as 16 miles = 25km. When my brain realized that I’d have to do 5 cycles of 30 minutes on the treadmill, it felt defeated. And the 5 cycles would have to be at 10km/hr, which is a fast and exhausting run. Treadmills are unforgiving pain machines.
But I decided to focus on the TV for the first cycle. The second, I’d try to meditate. My iwatch was dead by now. Then, to run to the beat of the shitty reggaeton music at the gym. Then, I’d give myself gels as a reward. Then a water break. Then, bathroom breaks. My gut was still messed up. 2.5 hours later I was done, incredibly proud of myself.
I came back home on foot, that’d cover the last kilometre of my run. My feet were a mess by then, having been wet for the past 6hrs.
I had various obstacles during that run:
the cold rain
the mountains
the changes of plan
the pain of running a treadmill
But did the run. Got bad chafing the next day but filled my soul with light: “I’m incredibly proud of you Charles”, I said to myself after this. It’s the only moment I’m ever saying that to me.
Enduring pain enlightens one.