"You got to keep going; you made it to this point, and all you need to do is toughen up. The bad times will pass and you will finish." Those were the words of my friend, Janet, as I stopped after three 15.4 mile laps in the Javalina Jundred 100 mile race, which was being held outside Fountain Valley, Arizona. I had three and a half more laps to go to finish the race, but I was defeated. I was OK physically; it was my mind that had already made the decision to stop, and there was no turning back.
When I'd started the race earlier in the morning, everything was going well. I was hydrating correctly, and I'd kept my pace conservative. The Javalina 100 is famous for defeating people who allow themselves to be fooled by the "benign topography", push it a bit more than usual early on, only to end up paying for it later. I was taking it easy, doing well, and I was happy.
The initial miles went by pretty fast. In just under three hours, I emerged at the end of the first lap, got some food, water, salt pills, and started out on the second lap. Unbeknownst to me, the temperature of the desert was already climbing pretty high by that time, and as I kept my pace, I started to sweat profusely. I kept drinking water and taking salt pills to replace lost electrolytes. I got to an aid station and decided to sit for a little while and check my left foot for blisters, as I was feeling a small sting on the bottom of my foot. I finished taking care of my feet and stoop up. That's when I realized that I was seeing everything in double. I rubbed my eyes—perhaps it was the sweat, I thought—but nothing made it better. I had double vision, and I was thinking, "OK...just push it; it will go away." So I managed to leave the aid station and find the trail. But as I kept pushing and stumbling, I realized that my double vision wasn't going to improve. I knew that it wasn't happening because of the sweat in my eyes, or because I'd sat for a while; this was a condition that was here to stay. I was frustrated, and I wanted to yell out loud, "What the hell, eyes? Don't do this to me now; not here, not today!"
I emerged on the other side of the third lap and let Janet (my crew) know what was going on. Being the great friend that she is, she told me, "Things will get better. Get some food, some Gu, and wait a bit. Things will get better". She was right; things did get better. After a few minutes, the double vision disappeared, and I decided that I was able to continue. I started to run again and met some awesome people along the trail. But after a short time, just as I became comfortable in my pace, the double vision returned. Sometimes it was light, but at other times, it was so severe that everything I looked at seemed superimposed. I felt like I couldn't navigate the trail safely. I slowed my pace down to a walk during the worst spells, but I still kept moving. When I got to the other side, it was around 6:30 pm, and beginning to get dark. The double vision simply was not going away, and I realized that I would not be able to continue. I knew that if I was having a hard time during the day, it would be even worse once it got dark; so I decided to stop.
It is always hard to say, "I am done," especially for ultra runners—people who are used to plowing through all kinds of pain and discomfort—but this was different. This wasn't just a blister or cramping; this was a situation that I had never encountered before in nearly ten years of running. Plus, I had made a promise to my wife before leaving for the race. I promised her if at any point I felt I was in danger, I would stop; so I stopped. I was well rested, since I'd been forced to walk most of the race; but my eyes and brain weren't collaborating this time around, so I decided to throw in the towel and call it a day.
After I made the decision to stop, I thought about what I had learned through this experience. Ultra runners, in particular, are a breed of people that is used to running through pain, discomfort, and hard times to get to the finish line. I have seen runners almost crawling to the finish line; yet still, when they cross the finish line, a big smile is usually on their faces. That feeling of elation at finishing the race will override every single discomfort they felt during the race, and every moment of pain they will feel after the race is over. I give kudos to those people; I've been one of them many times, and I know what it feels like. This time, however, I knew it was different. I didn't know what was causing my double vision, but I knew it was serious enough to stop running.
For those of you familiar with Scott Jurek, one of the most elite ultra marathon runners in the world, and for those of you who have read his book, Eat & Run, you will have read about his four-step system for dealing with the sort of anxiety and impairment I was facing at the Javalina 100: Step One: allow yourself to worry; Step Two: take stock of the situation; Step Three: ask yourself what you can do to remedy the situation; Step Four: separate your negative feelings from the issue at hand. Running down the list of steps, I knew that I was making the right decision. I recognized that the double vision had me worried and I was concerned about what was causing it. The situation was severe enough to prevent me from completing the race safely and there was no indication that it would improve any time soon. When I asked myself what I could do to remedy the situation, I knew the best answer was to quit running. Finally, I was able to separate my negative feelings of anxiety and frustration from the experience I was having. I knew that this experience offered me an opportunity to learn more about where my limits lie, and a chance to improve my performance next time.
At the end of the day, I knew what my limitations were, and that knowledge was empowering. Sometimes we think we can do anything we want, which is a good thing because it's good to test our limits; but sometimes the reality may be that we are faced with a host of situations that we don't have control over. It would have been reckless to try to keep going when everything around me was telling me to stop.
As I approached the aid station after that third lap, my mind was already made up; but I knew that my friends would try to convince me to keep on going. I knew I would need to be strong and stick to my guns. Two thoughts kept running through my mind:
- I knew that getting better is always the focus of my learning experience. I would come back wiser and better prepared to tackle this race once again.
- HOPE is the motivation for learning. I hoped I would come back in a better position to tackle this course.
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These two thoughts were my motivation to stop, and most importantly, they gave me strength to fight against the peer pressure I knew I was about to face.
When I arrived at the aid station, I told my friends that I'd decided to quit. As I had expected, they protested and tried to encourage me to continue. They urged me not to worry and told me that the double vision would go away as long as I kept moving. They reminded me that I was running an ultra; that I would feel amazing once I finished. Their words were inspirational, and it was a tough sell, but I stood my ground. Finally, once they realized I was serious about being finished, they backed me up and helped me quit the race. I realized then that good friends will encourage you to keep going against all odds, but real friends will respect your decision to stop once they know that you are serious. I love my ultra running friends. I know that they will help me, no matter what, and I hope that I can be as good a friend to them as they have been to me.
What I learned in this race:
- You are stronger than you think you are; but sometimes, finishing the race might be detrimental to your goal, or even your health. Sometimes, you are strong enough to finish. And sometimes, you are strong enough to quit.
- Quitting is not just for wimps; sometimes quitting is the best decision you can make.
- Friends will help you, and push you beyond your limits, but it is up to you to decide when you've had enough.
So far, the score is Desert—2, Luis—0, but this isn't the end. I plan to return to the desert next year and do it again; this time, I'll be better prepared.
Great story Luis! No decision is a bad one as long as you learn from it.
Sean, thank you my friend… I regret not being able to finish, but I stand by my decision to quit when I did it.. I’ll be back for sure!!!
Luis, I ran a few ultra distances in the early 80’s after completing the Oct 1982 Hawaii Ironman. I always remember an article in Runners World from about 1980 titled ‘Anyone who can run a Marathon, can run 50 Miles’. I photo copied it and it became my bible. I have it to this day. It talked about the difference mentally between a marathoner and an ultra-marathoner. I will try and post it or I can email it to you, if you contact me privately.
Regards.