hey, you

This is as close as you'll ever get to being back in our lives. 

All I ever wanted was to hear 'I thought I did my best, and understand that my best wasn't enough'. I've made peace with knowing that will never happen. 

The only reason I want to know when you're dead is so I know when to stop looking over my shoulder. Otherwise, I hope to never hear of you ever again. Ever.

Fear of falling and failing

The decline was long and slow. Incremental. Like thawing glaciers. Till it wasn't. Then one day they're gone. Same with my fitness. Save for my blood pressure, my health isn't what it once was. My body certainly isn't what it once was. I can still recall how I felt, isolating each muscle in motion. Maybe one day again.

There Is Never Enough Ice Cream.

Marc Maron made this statement in the opening of a recent episode his WTF podcast.  To be clear, this was not a comment on ice cream, per se.

We are, most of us anyway, are in possession of a broken heart, a fractured mind, a damaged soul, or some combination of the three.

Obviously, when a thing breaks, the natural urge is to seek repair.  To apply a bandage.  Unlike a broken bone, there are injuries that never heal and necessitate ongoing care.

How we medicate speaks volumes about our suffering.  Alcohol.  Marijuana.  Cocaine.  Heroine.  Crystal meth.  Pills.  Food.  Sugar.  Prolonged exercise.  Sex.  Excessive blogging (srsly).  We all have something.

Here is a test.  Does your treatment of choice continue to give off good feelings long after the treatment has concluded?  Or, are you already seeking the next fix before the current one has worn off?

The latter fits for most drug addicts and alcoholics.  Sex addicts and chronic masturbaters also experience a quick fall from the euphoria.

Maron is a addict, fourteen years sober.  No drugs.  No booze.  His only vices - too much coffee, nicotine lozenges, masturbation (who among us hasn’t?), and food.  The mind of an addict will always find a way to mediate, even when choosing to close off former avenues.

He discussed research about the mind and its receptors and how ice cream connects to us.  I love ice cream.  I hate the way my teeth feel after I eat it, enough to say never again.  There is always a next time.  It seems so minor, so trivial, yet I have not been able to turn off that want.

The research, stripped down for the purpose of this post, showed that ice cream is never as good as the first time.  Every time we consume it afterward is in pursuit of the rush from that first time.  And it is never as good.  That is because during that first time we are still pure to the experience, it is all new to us, to our receptors.

You don’t yet know that you need it.  You can really leave it if you’ve never taken it.

For some people the receptors don’t receive properly, and the experience is a one-off.  For others the pursuit lasts a lifetime.  Countless hours, years even, chasing the ghost of that first time.

What science showed, that the mind never really accepts, is that the next time will never be as good as the first time.  Because even if it is, we believe it can be better still.  What was once mind blowing is now meh.  This is why the addict od’s, the alcoholic drowns, and even why some marriages fail.  The next time is no longer good enough and the pursuit cannot end.

After that first bowl or cone, there never is enough ice cream.

all i've got is time

some lessons need to be learned again and again to stick.  other lessons just stick.  put them into practice and they stay with you.

we talk about "making" time and managing time and losing time like we actually control time.  in reality we only control what we do with the time allotted to us.

most people rush through life.  work is to be endured and finished as soon as possible.  relationships are seldom given the time necessary to grow and flourish, or to wither and die naturally.  we try to reduce the alphabet to two letters, getting from A to Z without any of those other extraneous symbols in between.

it all reminds me of running a 5k.  the distance takes time to cover, from start to finish, but it is done soon.  most distance races are meant to be run as quickly as possible, and this one is no exception.  never does the 5k racer say "my, that was a beautiful course".  there is simply no time to take in the scenery.

on the other hand, an ultra marathon is another story.  to finish, for most entrants, the race is about management.  of time, nourishment, physicality, mentality.  you have a lot of time.  you have all sorts of time.  with all that time you have a lot of time to think.

there are pressing matters to be dealt with in the moment.  there are other matters that may be shelved for a bit, to be dealt with at a latter stage of the event.  some matters must be dealt with, whether in the moment or eventually.

other matters, though, simply fall away never to be considered again.  no worry, no bluster, no bluff.  they simply fall away.

that is one lesson that will stay with me, from my days as an ultramarathoner.  it is a lesson i employ every day.  if something is bothering me, a thought that takes hold of me like some rabid dog, i try to set it aside.  shelf it, so to speak.  if i stay present moment, focused on actual tasks, that rabid dog will succumb and die a nature, timely, death.  in most cases i am happy to let it slip away.

i do not face that dog everyday, but i am getting better at facing it down.

enough is enough

there are times, like now as i sit before my computer, when i tell myself i should be doing more.

more what, you ask.

fuck if i know, but whatever it is, i should be doing more of it.

housework, maybe.

yard work, definitely.

running and general exercise?

the point is that there is always something to do.  there are tasks that need to be completed, or addressed in the least.  but time keeps slipping away.

i should not beat myself up of not doing enough.

since i started working at Costco in July 2012, i went from a nowhere real estate career and pulling twenty to twenty-five hours per week at the store, to full-time supervisory status within six months.  we finally moved into our own place, back in May, and are doing our best to pay our own way through life.

for forty hours each week i am doing the best i can to hold my mental, emotional, and physical shit together.  some days i walk out feeling pretty good, about myself and the job i did.  other days, well, i slink out barely a shell of the man that walked in.

when i need to hear it, i recite to myself the following affirmations:  i do enough, i have enough, i am enough, and i am good enough.

if any of those don't apply, then it will have to be.  because unlike in previous professions, i give all i have.  most days it is good.  some days it is great.  then other days come along and nothing works and whatever does happen materializes in a slow motion sort of way.  like a train wreck on one tenth speed.

admittedly, i do not run as much as i want.  the housework - which i do because A is up to her gills in school work - gets done.  not as fast as i'd like, but who can i blame but myself.

over the last few years much of my anxiety and self-loathing was born of the concept of "enough" - i did not do, have, provide, nor was "good enough".  i supposed that people projected these thoughts upon me.  it took a long while for me to admit that the only one projecting was me.  it was my voice saying such horrid things.  if anyone else had similar thoughts, they did a fine job of keeping them to themselves.  mostly...

here is the thing.  there are people that accomplish more than i could ever dream.  there are also people that do far less.  the point is that i do what i do and am okay with the results.

because sometimes enough is enough.

another piece in the puzzle of me

i decide what is toxic to me.  

i decide that what is toxic to me has no place in my life.

upon deciding that what is toxic to me has no place in my life, i move to carve what is toxic to me out of my life.

once what is toxic to me has been cut out of my life, a craving fills the void and i want nothing more than to regain what i carved out of my life.

while this may seem confusing, it is crystal clear.  the unfortunate aspect of being me is that my brain will not turn some things loose.  at least not easily.

i have to consciously not think about the toxic objects of my desire.

only time will tell if i will succeed.  as always, i have to think of other things.  i have to divert my attention.

rethinking overthinking

The most frustrating thing about being me, aside from beating off all the admirers due to my ravishing good looks, is my tendency to overthink a situation.  Usually I am compelled by my subconscious to reconsider some past event, one that went horribly awry and was nowhere close to the resolution I would find to my liking.

I know these two points to be true:  1) I cannot change the past by thinking about past events, and 2) I cannot alter future events by thinking alone.  The past is done.  Continuing to reflect on those events will bring nothing new or useful to my life.  And the future, well, action trumps thought every time.

My problem is that overthinking is a compulsion for me.  A thought takes hold and rather than let it go, it tumbles over and over, like steel beams inside a cement mixer, clanging and banging, demanding my attention.  To quiet my mind I mistaken treat the invading thought like a puzzle to be solved.  Foolhardily I think that if I "solve for x" I will be able to move on from that thought.  Not so fast, my friend...

What I have to accept is that there are no solutions to many of these thoughts.  I realize that most of them simply circle around, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike.  Talking them out is no longer an option either, as I have broached these subjects in private therapy, support group settings, and one-on-one conversations.  There is nothing more to say.

However... rather than overthinking a subject, I ought to rethink the overthinking.

A few days ago I stumbled upon a new mantra, for when the self-hate or self-loathing or destructive negative self-talk kicks in:

This will not be resolved today.

This does not have to be resolved today.

Not today.

Not now.

Just for today I will put this thought aside and focus only on what I need to exist in the present moment.

This tactic is not me bottling up or suppressing my feelings.  More to the point, it feels like I am a ignoring the neighborhood bully that thrives on attention from his victims.

So whenever that bastard comes around again, I'll stare him in the eye and say simply "Not today, motherfucker.  You won't get at me today."

vigilance has a price

I must be willing to give up what I am, in order to become what I will be. 

This quote is tattooed on my chest, over my heart.  Once I decided to get a tattoo, I searched for something that had particular meaning for me.  Whatever I chose had to be a guiding force me for years to come.  It had to mean something.  At least once per week, like a two-by-four to the face, this quote finds a new application in my life.

Give five miles more...

This quote is on my left forearm.  The words are a paraphrase of a plea made in the dark of a Texas night by a dear friend, in a moment that I needed to hear such words.  It was a moment that I wanted to quit, when I wanted to quit on myself.  Giving myself five miles more to mulling things over, over and over, allowed me to delay the decision to quit, till the task itself was done.  This quote stays with me, as a reminder in everyday life to not quit, when that is all I want to do at that moment.

Life is about decisions.   What to do.  How to act.  When to act.  What, when, or how NOT to act.  In the moment any decision may seem inconsequential.  Only with the passage of time does one gain the perspective necessary to see whether a decision was right, or oh so very wrong.

It could be a huge decision, a game changer.  Or it could be a series of baby steps.  Paper cuts instead of full amputation.  One leaves the sufferer in immediate shock, while the other is unnoticeable till moments or hours later.

Everyday I have to weigh options and consider the future impact of those decisions.  That is the nature of my job.  On a daily basis, what I do at 6am may have repercussions twelve hours later.  Literally, that is the nature of my job.  The past Me was often paralyzed by indecision, fearful of making a mistake or taking a misstep.  The current Me has to decide and act, without hesitation.  Later, in a quiet moment of reflection, I can look back and consider what I did right and what I did wrong.  Making mistakes is how one learns to avoid future mistakes.

The last few fears have witnessed me make many mistakes.  Regretful decisions reexamined and over-analyzed.  However, there is little denying that I am less who I once was.  I am becoming more so who I will be.

The worst part about making a decision - or even a promise - is sticking with that decision.  Turning words into reality is not one of my strengths.  I am full of want, less so of results.  My track record is abysmal.  I want that to change.  Fuck it, I need that to change.

I must be willing to give up what I am, in order to become what I will be.  Give it five miles more...

I want to make this change, but it will not be easy.  Not because of outside pressure, but from internal forces.  I have to repel compulsions, impulses, and basic want.

I want to drink, but I want more to not drink.  This is a simple statement, but it is anything but simple in practice.

Vigilance has a price, precisely because I have to give up what I am, to become what I will be.

i won't call it a comeback, but...

because of work - two-thirty am wake ups and lifting things for hours - i have not maintained any sort of running program, well, since my last big race.  that was cactus rose in october of 2012.  time has truly flown by.

what i realized this last week, as i resume my running life, is that i desperately missed everything about running.  that moment when my breathing settling into a comfortable exchange after the initial ragged minutes.  the deep muscle ache after running, what at the time seems like a long distance.  the rush of blowing past another person on the trail or sidewalk, even if they are simply out for a walk.

i am considering a turkey trot when the season rolls around.  something small like a 5k seems appropriate given my schedule and tenuous grasp on any disposable energy.

something else i realized, with the early mornings and early evenings and forty hour work weeks and non-consecutive off-days, is that i am fortunate to have run the races i did.  traveling to three ultras was a luxury, something i cannot even dream of affording now with rent and utilities and, yes, private schooling.

twenty to thirty fast miles each week is doable. what's more, it sounds like fun once again.

i reckon the book was right, when it said Once a runner... 

-L

Checking Myself

Overnight I received a note from a follower via another social media site i inhabit.  The note was written in response to a post I made regarding emotional triggers and physical responses.  If you live your life free of "triggers", consider yourself fortunate.  If you are triggered, there may be a way to minimalize the impact these triggers have over your life.

"When I first started zen meditation I told my teacher that when I kept losing concentration, I would get very very frustrated. So she told me in the middle of that situation on the cushion to ask myself 'who is frustrated.' Or if there was another emotion to ask 'who is (feeling that emotion)'. So I did. And what I found happening is that I would have an emotional reaction, there would be a corresponding change in the body, and then my mind would try to connect it to some memory in my past. So if I felt frustrated, my brain would scan back to a time when I was the most frustrated I have ever been. And I’d replay that memory so quickly that it was almost imperceptible. But then, in response to that memory, my body would have a physical reaction to that memory and I’d have new emotional response based on that physical reaction. All happening so quickly as to be almost unnoticeable. So in essence, if I had a reaction in my body that was similar to a reaction I had in the ultimate frustration, or ultimate disappointment moments of my life, my brain would relive those moments in like a tenth of a second. And so I’d be reacting not to whatever situation was actually happening, but to a memory of a time that was awful. But all subconsciously. So over time, I have almost unknowingly adopted a viewpoint which has me asking 'is this what’s happening? Or is this just what I think is happening?' And that stance born of repeated meditation prevents me from sticking too hard to my thoughts and opinions. Makes the world a little more mysterious. Allows for more possibilities."

Triggers take all forms.  A trigger could be a almost anything, from a word or phrase, to a place.  I even know a person triggered emotionally by thunderstorms.  Sometimes I am triggered by a name.   A simple name, with complicated emotional baggage.

What I realized last night, and confirmed by the above note, is that while never easy, sometimes you have to let go of what triggers you.

through the valley

my, it has been a while.  i have not even looked at my reading list in months.  as i do it strikes me how the topics that used to consume me hold little interest for me today.  it is not so much that i have changed, but moved on.  i may not have changed, but my life certainly has.

i am down to weeks, if not days, left in my real estate career.  without shame i can say that i failed.  no worries though, it was never for me.  that admission took six years and a moment of desperation to finally rise to the surface.

i have a new career.  each day brings a new host of challenges and worries, but today i saw some growth.  sure, it was not perfect but i am okay with how the day went.  perfection is an illusion anyway.  there is always someone waiting to tell me how i fucked up.  the difference in me is that i prepare myself to take the hit, and welcome the hit, rather than try to dodge it.  some hits simply cannot be avoided.

out of desperation andria and i each have new careers.  hers due to writing on the wall.  her old job is destined to be phased out.  she had to make a move, but the move she made necessitated that i step up and finally make a meaningful contribution to our life together.  i no longer could afford the luxury of someday.  hence my move to retail and a time clock.  if you told me one year ago i would be in the position i am now, there is no way i would have believed you.  no chance in hell.

however, because of that desperation and willingness to leap without a net, and net wove itself beneath us.  my career is progressing at breakneck speed.  andria just received her employment contract for next year.  and we are finally, after nearly seven long years, moving out of her parents' home.  we are finally resuming our lives as adults.

occasionally i consider the old me.  i wonder if i am still a runner.  due to the pace of my life at present, and the commitments i maintain, i have not managed any sort of consistent training regimen.  then i run a 5k at a seemingly unreasonable pace and think perhaps i am a runner.  then i sneak myself into a ten miler when i have not run that distance in months and push a pace i have no business holding, and i think perhaps i am a runner still.

i do not think i shall ever return to my previous life as a runner.  2:45 am wake-up calls and eight o'clock bedtimes will ruin a runner, especially as summer approaches here in south carolina.  but this much i know:  i would not trade those four years for anything in the world.  i saw things and accomplished things i never even dreamed about.  i engaged people and considered ideas in ways that never occurred to me previously.

now, at the mid-point of my life, i finally know the kind of person i am.  i may not like everything i am, but i understand how it all came together and how it all works, and how i can make it all work for me.

lastly, i know what makes me happy.  she has been with me all along.

i saw a quote today, which i will attribute to a native tennessean now living in los angeles, nobody you would know.  he said that while it is nice to acknowledge those folks that happen into your life and shine a light to chase away the darkness, it is far better to embrace those individuals that chose to walk through the darkness with you, hoping to find your light together.

so i guess that is it.  until some other time perhaps.

the meaning of life is perspective

i am no longer running from something, but rather am running to something.  some very big somethings.  perspective has everything to do with how that run feels.

life is, according to marc maron, a series of beatings.  some are light and mildly bruising.  others are brutal and bloody.  the purpose of life is to survive those beatings and come out stronger.

people certainly live without having the literal or figurative shit beaten out of them, but those people don't know how strong they can be when true strength is needed.

i've taken a fairly sound beating recently.  of course most of the blows were self-inflicted.  but i survived and am charging forward.

which way the wind blows

quite often in my life i have felt rudderless, with slack sails.  my charts are scattered.  both day and night the skies are clouded over.  i know not where i am, just that i am not where i want to be.  well, not entirely...

  

for years my life seemed lacking.  something was missing.  there was no purpose.

if i know anything about myself it is that if there is something i do not want to do, i will not do it.  no amount of threats or cajoling or promised rewards will propel me down that path.  whatever it may be, i have to truly want it in order that i have any desire to actually pursue it.

hence private counseling.  and group therapy.  and more honest communication with my wife.  and the new job, which brings me to the point of this post.

that new job...  when that all began last summer, Andria was concerned that part time work would not provide enough of what we needed.  and surely the schedule would make for difficult times.  my therapist, dr. simons, balked at the idea even more forcefully.  what you need is money.  part time will not provide you with the means to change you situation.  

i took in what each of them had to say, and set out anyway.  i did not know what the future would hold, but i finally saw promise in that future.

a new wind was blowing.  not harsh or bitter.  not fraught with unhealthy urges or codependent attachments. so i raised my sails and let the wind carry me wherever it would.

six months later that part time job has become full time.  rather than a member of the team, i have been granted supervisory status.  i am one of the leaders.  my superiors and coworkers recognize that i have drive and determination and the will to succeed in that environment.  i may not have the support of everyone in the building, but i have the support of the right people in the building.

i have the support of the right people in life.

as for the money - the part time hours and the part time dollars - that will change to.  suddenly i am propelled from earning a quarter dollar above the entry level to the top hourly wage in the building plus one dollar, per company policy.  with the increase in wage and hours, my annual pay will triple.

fucking triple...

if you have any knowledge of my personal circumstances the last seven years, you know that Andria and i are on the cusp of something huge.

and all i have to do is to continue working the sails, keeping them trim and full.

signposts and road maps

*recall the days before gps enabled phones and in-dash navigation

if you have ever traveled by car, you may have had an opportunity to utilize the occasional signpost or road map to find your way.  if you do not know the way, reaching your destination could prove quite difficult without some assistance.

people are like these items, signposts and road maps.

the road maps, you keep with you.  maybe within reach, or tucked away and brought out when necessary.  after a quick consultation you are on your way again.  so long as you don’t misplace it, the road map is always with you.

signposts, on the other hand, remain fixed.  the signpost points the way, but you cannot reach your destination until you take leave of the signpost.  though helpful to your journey, the signpost is no longer necessary in your travels.

my point?  road map people are with you the entire way.  they witness your progress from departure to destination.  they see the steps taken and turns made and know what you have become along the way.  

whereas, signpost people only know what you were at that moment in time, when paths crossed.  once you leave them behind, signpost people have no clue what has become of you.  in reality, the ultimate destination may not be of concern for signpost people.  their task is simply to point you in the right direction.

we all know people that fit these descriptions.  i am willing to bet that most of us owe debts of gratitude to people that have pointed the way, either by simply giving a heads up or showing the entire path.

if you know either of these type of people, and are in a position to do so, thank them.  let them know that you are heading in the right direction because of them.

it is possible they have no clue of the service they provided.

The Four Agreements

The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz

Agreement 1:
Be impeccable with your word - Speak with integrity.  Say only what you mean.  Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others.  Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

• If people cannot trust your word, they have no reason to trust you.  Ever.  And nothing you say will dissuade them from what they believe about you from that point onward.

Agreement 2:
Don't tackle anything personally - Nothing others do is because of you.  What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream.  When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

• You are not a martyr.  You are not a victim.  Let me rephrase that... You are not a victim of anyone other than your own delusions.  See Agreement 3.

Agreement 3:
Don't make assumptions - Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want.  Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama.  With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

• If you want to know, ask.  If you don't want to know, don't give the matter another thought.  Assuming you know anything, without widening your knowledge base, is the surest sign that you know nothing.

Agreement 4:
Always do your best - Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick.  Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

• Always...

Under a Blood Red Sunrise

I am awake.  I don’t know how, but I am…

One hour into the final loop, nearly out and dead to the world, here I am striding as fast as I can, across the top of this damn rock.  No running.  Not yet, not for another few miles.  Not for any measurable distance for several more hours…

The weekend started out great and without the slightest sense of apprehension.  Friday morning greeted us with rain and chilly temperatures.  A cold front was rolling through and promised cloudy and moderate temperatures on Saturday.  As the Cactus Rose course is very exposed, cloud cover would be welcome.  And if the clouds remained overnight, the lows would be fairly mild as well.

At the starting line I did not recognize anyone, other than a few faces I remembered from last year.  Andria and I did meet up with Melissa and we went over last minute thoughts.  With a few minutes till the start I moved to the rear of the assembled masses and took a deep breath.

In the dark the first mile or so was basically a walk.  It would be several miles before the trail opened up and allowed for running without crawling up someone’s ass.

The first loop (twenty-five miles) plus ten miles went as expected.  I ran when the course was run-able.  I walked when it was not.  The only surprise of the first loop was that I completely missed the descent from Ice Cream Hill.  It is long and steep and requires careful footing.  The limestone is flakey and any lapse in attention would easily result in landing on one’s ass – hard.

Andria was waiting for me at Equestrian on both passes and at The Lodge. 

Loop One:  5:33

Elapsed Time:  5:33

When I returned to Equestrian at mile 35 I made the bold request for Andria and Melissa to calculate the necessary splits to break twenty-four hours.

That proved to be wasted breath.  I was still feeling good physically and mentally.  However, the twenty miles through the meat grinder of Equestrian-to-Boyles-to-Lodge (miles 15 through 35 and miles 65 through 85) and back again was about to a catch up with me as I headed for Nachos and mile 40.

My quads began to bark and running turned to walking.  When I arrived back at The Lodge to complete the second loop both thighs were cramping deeply.  Andria and Melissa were slow coming driving up from Equestrian (I wanted to curse then and did till they arrived, and eventually I let it pass and turned my head back to the now.) so I laid on the cold ground and waited.  A few people asked if I was okay.  I may have lied but I don’t remember.

A few minutes later the girls showed up and Andria tried to roll out the cramps with a Stick.  Oops.  The Stick on my right quad ignited a violent spasm up the right side of my spine through my shoulder blade and into my deltoid.  Next she rolled an inflamed hip flexor, which caused my right groin to flare up.

I may have screamed at some point.  I don’t remember.

I may have asked out of the event at that point.  No was the long answer.

Loop Two:  8:37

Elapsed Time:  14:10

The next loop was a slow long slog.  No running.  Night was settling over Hill Country and I resigned myself to accept the original goal I brought to Cactus Rose – just finish.  There was no joy in that acceptance.

Allow me a moment to reflect on the past year…  I am codependent.  Codependency is marked by particular patterns of behavior that lead to soul crushing negative self-talk.  Most people struggle with the Big Picture of completing an ultra, but my codependency makes the struggle even deeper.  So my mission was to pull back and focus on each five mile segment.  Each turn on the trail.  Each solitary step.  Just for today is a common refrain of the Codependent.  I had to repeat that refrain and reflect on the Serenity Prayer to just get through the loop.

While at mile 65 I thought back to last year when I wanted out.  I was way behind that pace but was still going.

I need to point that that other than muscle fatigue I felt pretty well physically.  No joint pain.  My ankles and knees felt great.  I was popping ibuprofen and my team asked questions to monitor my urine rate, flow, and color to avoid any bit of nastiness from over-medicating.

After mile 65 I dove back into the meat grinder and shit was about to get real deep, real fast.  Coming through the final segment from Boyles back to The Lodge I felt as though I would fall asleep on my feet.  The fear began to rise that I would succumb and fall, probably bashing my skull on a rock.  I was in the grip of Fear and Doubt and all the voices that tell me to get the fuck off this course and off my feet.

As I stumbled toward the timing mat to close out 75 miles I considered handing Joe, the race director, my timing chip and walking away.  If I would quit I did not want to give Andria or Melissa a chance to talk me out of it.

Fortunately for them I forgot to hand in my chip.

Loop Three:  10:58

Elapsed Time:  25:08

I made my way to the heated tent step up by the race organizers and slumped into a camp chair.  To say I was dead would not begin to capture just how exhausted I was that morning.  It was five o’clock on Sunday morning and the only thing I wanted was to sleep.  My crew shoved food into my mouth.  I rolled my head from side to side to get away for anything they wanted me to eat. 

Barely under my breath, I begged to quit.  I wanted out desperately. 

I did eat a bit.  No clue what, other than some Ramen.  Maybe some Pringles and banana chips.

Andria did tell me later than I slept for about thirty minutes.  I did stir to see her putting on additional clothes.  My immediate response was “What the fuck are you doing?”  She said she was getting ready to go out with me.  She and Melissa were going to get me up and out and she was going with me.  “No the fuck you aren’t!”  I told her that I could barely care for myself out there on the trail and with the worst ten miles ahead I did not think she would be able.   I don’t for a minute doubt Andria’s heart – she was willing – but I knew she was not ready physically for what lay ahead.  “If you get hurt I can’t carry both of us out.”

So up I stood, turned on my iPod to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast with Bryan Cranston (conversations with Henry Rollins and Steven Wright would follow), and back into the dark I stumble.  It was shortly after six o’clock.

I knew that if I made it through the next ten miles I would finish the race, barring injury.  The climbs, even at a slow walking pace, were lung searing.  As I crossed from Cairn’s Climb to Boyles Bump I looked over my left shoulder to see a blood red sunrise sandwiched in the break between the horizon and low clouds.  Then I realized how determined my walking pace was.  I felt how awake I was.  I was at a polar opposite from how I was at The Lodge.

Coming down the final approach to Boyles aid station I tried to run it in.  Andria was waiting and filled my handhelds to help me get out as soon as possible.  I sprinted (it felt like sprinting) out and down the trail till I hit the first climb toward Sky Island. 

Sky Island is the highest point on the course.  The ascent and descent, whether going clockwise or counterclockwise, is ball busting brutality at its worst.  Not to mention the crawl over Three Sisters and all the damn stool palms that continued slicing my quads and shins.

My arrival at Equestrian allowed me to shed clothing, my head lamp, and shovel more food down my throat.  The #DoEpicShit tee finally came out.

From here I would loop ten miles through Nachos before coming back to Equestrian, then the final five miles to the finish.

I could smell the finish.

The trail to Nachos is fairly flat in comparison to the stretch from The Lodge-to-Boyles-to-Equestrian, with one exception – Ice Cream Hill.  I clocked the climb at three and a half minutes to cover one tenth of a mile.  I’ve run a half mile on a high school track faster than that.  The Ice Cream Hill ascent is no high school track.

On this segment I caught of with a few runners also struggling to find some reserve strength.  As I pulled away from Nachos a runner and his pacer caught and passed me.  The pacer urged me to join them.  I did my best but continued to walk when I needed to, though I ran more as the quads allowed.  During a gentle rise along a power line I really began to hike a hard pace to keep my head in the game.  I did manage to jog most the final mile into Equestrian.

Once out of Equestrian I had 4.5 miles to go.  I wanted to run as much as possible, but the climb over Lucky Peak within the final 1.5 miles was looming.  I had to save something in the quads.  With two miles remaining I could hear the crowd at The Lodge through the trees.  On I pressed, still walking hard.

I saw the top of Lucky Peak in the distance.  Once over it and another shorter down-and- up it was be flat all the way back.  The climb up Lucky was clocked on my Garmin at under 400 feet.  That steady climb took almost three minutes.  You have to earn this finish, and you know it’s coming all weekend.

Once on the jeep trail I tried to open my stride and push the pace.  I wanted this over as quickly as possible.

There is one final straight away, where you can spy a few of the buildings at The Lodge, before turning back in to the trees for a few hundred yards.  At the top of my lungs I shouted “Honey, I’m almost home!!!” and really hammered the pace.  Glancing at my Garmin I may have seen 7:30/mi.

Down and through the little gully and twenty yards in.  I passed Andria to my right. 

As I crossed the timing mat I came to a stop and meet Joe to collect my buckle.

I was done.

Fourth Loop:  8:14

Race Total:  33:24 (Writer's note - I did not account for seconds in my splits, so if you add up the individual loop times you will note that they come up two minutes short.  Bite me.)

Andria was there to hug me – the one time she has not refused a nasty post-run hug.  Then I collapsed under a shade tree for a Guinness and a rest.

There were a few tears.  There were a few sighs of relief.  But more so there was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction at completing this goal.  In spite of all the walking I finished only one hour behind last year’s time.

Fuck yeah.

Post script #1 – There are far too many details to recall, most of which are lost to me already, to provide a thorough and accurate accounting of my most recent encounter with the Cactus Rose.  And quite frankly, I cannot expect anyone to read through the reams of prose I could spit out regarding the physical, mental, and emotional toll of the event.  Most of it is gone, faded into the dark corners of my mind and body.  Surely some has settled into my bones.  Should you have any specific questions, feel free to ask at your leisure.

Post script #2 - I gave the buckle to Andria.  We will probably get it boxed as a display, but it is hers. I may have covered the course alone, but she was with me at all the aid stations and each step of the way in spirit.  Having her support made this weekend possible and without her, I may not have gotten out of that chair to start the final lap.  I may have said "thank you" to her at least five times a day since I finished.  There are not enough thank yous, really.

Post script #3 - While on the trail and as we drove out of the park, I figured I was leaving Bandera for the last time.  There was a real sense that never again would I run Cactus Rose or any stretch of the Hill Country trail network.  I even assumed that I would never attempt another 100 miler.  There is a real physical and mental toll to pay.  Then a funny thing happened over the next twenty hours.  Though I had a lot of pain in my legs, and my stomach was ripped after too much post-race food and Gatorade, I realized I was not hurt as badly as after last year’s race.  Then in a text exchange with another Cactus Rose veteran I suddenly realized I was planning how to train smarter for next year.  Andria also revealed that to pass the time between aid stations she began making a list of gear she needs for The Next Race.  So I guess there will be a Next Race.

I resume training shortly.

In three short weeks I'll be in the middle of my second 100 miler.

Actually it will be my third.  I say second because I expect to finish this one, as I did last October.

Honestly thought, my training has sucked.  Plus I'm working a new job with crazy hours.

But I have course familiarity, I have been through the fire before and know what to expect, and I've spent the last forty-nine weeks training from the next up.  It has been a wild ride to say the least.

A few months back I considered refunding the air fare and not going back to Texas.  Andria said No.  She urged me to go, as a way to honor the journey I have made since my last trip out West.

I have to say... I like how that woman thinks.

Come Hell or no water, I'll be back to let you know how the weekend goes.

- L

Hello, again.

It has been a long while since I was last here, telling you of my thoughts and actions.  Since our last visit I've been doing other things, revealing myself in other places, in other ways.  I have also learned much about myself in the intervening months.  Since I last posted I've:

• deactivated my social media accounts on Facebook, Twitter, and Daily Mile.  I no longer gained from these sites what once made them so attractive.
• spent time in private therapy and continue to participate in a support group for codependency.
• actively minimized my work load in the field of real estate.
• been employed for almost one month with a global wholesale/retailer.  This means I am punching a time clock and getting paid on a regular basis.  What is not to love?
• not run nearly enough.  In the spring I paid for entry and airfare in a bid to rerun Cactus Rose.  As of today that race is ten weeks away.  As of last night I have a raging calf strain and cannot walk comfortably.  I need a flashlight and a few extra hands.  I feel I will be pulling another buckle out of my ass somehow.
• I've said goodbye, albeit reluctantly, to a few close friends.  The sort of friends that alter one's perspective and are catalysts for remarkable changes in life.  The kind of friends that support you through thick and thin.  The kind of friends that would stick with you forever, but know when to leave you alone.  Unfortunately, this is a forever kind of alone.

Am I happier since I last posted to this blog?  I guess.  But it is relative.  

Am I more content?  Again, it is relative.

What I know is that in spite of whatever ups and downs I am rolling through, I am responsible for my reactions and responses.  I am the one capable of overcoming, of pressing forward, of pushing ahead.  Others may try to hold me back.  Others may try to propel me forward.  But I alone am responsible for the change I seek.

Hi. My name is Logan and I am co-dependent.

I have worried about a lot of bullshit in my life.  I have made many self-destructive decisions in my life.  What I can say with the utmost certainty is that I am a victim of my own inability to control my urges and impulses.

Codependency has been will me all my life.  I suspect - rather, I believe - codependency will be will me for the remainder of my life.  Only now I have a label and I have an understanding and I have tools to respond to the behavioral patterns that previously guided me.

I may or may not use this space to write about my struggles with coming to terms with codependency.  Like other forms of addiction, you never beat it.  You can only deal with it.  You can only keep it a bay.

Should have any questions, ask.  If you come with hate or bullshit, I will cut you.  Deep.

Toeing the Line

Something is coming.

Those who care may understand.

Those who don't, or doubt any aspect of my being, can...

Go to Hell