Relief and Forlornness

Reflections on 2005 and the MMTR

Written Monday 10/17/05 by Annette Bednosky

I sit in my dining room 2 days after the Masochist and my last “race” of the year. I left work this morning feeling sick and came home to eat and sleep. I don’t think I am sick at all, but dealing with a new transition-coming to an end of an intense 2005 racing season…  This year has been intense too, with my Dad’s cancer quickly spreading in midwinter and finally taking his life at the end of July. I thought of him and my mom during much of my training and racing this year, and gained courage and tenacity from their difficult journey together.

Back to April 2005….It was 5 miles from the end of Bull Run 50 when I was going through a difficult spell that images of my Dad appeared. It really hit me about how painful, frustrating, and scary it must be to be my Dad-loosing his strength, body and some independence. I knew without his usually strong body he was still Wes Bednosky-but the reliable tough vehicle of his body he’d inhabited for so many years was breaking down. I knew then that the discomfort I was feeling would soon end and I would recover. I knew I could choose the level of discomfort and with more practice, continue to push through discomfort and would heighten my threshold for what I was willing to deal with during training and racing.  My choices as a runner were clear, my Dad’s choices seemed far less so. I celebrated having choices and being strong and healthy and I phoned my Dad immediately after finishing the Race and told him about my thoughts and thanked him for the learnings.

He continued to be a huge source of inspiration for me throughout the rest of the spring and summer. When I called Mom and Dad at 3am Pacific Time the last Sunday of June from the infield of Auburn High School to tell them about my win at Western States, they already knew! Unknown to me, Mom was up most of the night checking the internet and kept up with the race. They were both very happy and proud. I dedicated my run to Dad. He told lots of his friends. When I visited them on Long Island, the week after WS, he even agreed to let me tell the local paper about his cancer and me dedicating the run to him. Before that, he kept his illness a secret for over 7 years, not wanting people to feel sorry for him or treat him like a sick person. But During the 4^th of July week this past summer it was clear to all who knew and saw Wes Bednosky that he was dying. I was glad that my WS success helped open the door for some friends and coworkers to inquire about and visit Dad during his last weeks. I know it made things easier for my Mom too being able to more openly discuss and share her experiences with more people who cared.

I spent most of the rest of July in NY with my family and was with Dad when he died. Running helped give me “time out” from the intense emotions of dying and loss. Training and running also helped me refocus after George and I returned to North Carolina. I missed Dad and was grateful to be able to be with him during his last days, but wasn’t quite sure, even at age 38, how to live without one of my parents. So training was a focus and racing a distraction from my mass of emotions.

Back to now…

…Arriving home yesterday morning I unpacked the car, threw some laundry in the wash and fed Duncan the cat, and quickly left the house out for a prearranged afternoon foray of “running” with a local freelance photographer who plans to submit some of his stuff to southeastern travel publications and catalogs. When I returned from my afternoon romp, that’s when the feeling of being lost began.

Long before this past weekend, I’d decided that October 16^th would mark the beginning of 2 months off from structured training. My body will be grateful for the rest, yet my brain and emotions I think are more in need of a break. On Saturday at the Masochist finish line, someone asked me how many ultras I’d done this year. Let’s see…Frosty Fifty, Carrboro 50k, Uwharrie 40M, Holiday Lake 50k, Mt Mitchell Challenge 40M, Catawba Run Around 35M, Bull Run 50M, BelMonte 50k, Promise Land 50k, Are We Having Fun Yet 50k, Ice Age 50k, Western States 100, Laurel Valley 35ishM, Great Eastern 100k, and finally Masochist. A few of these events were low-key gatherings and approached as training runs- yet I would say that I “raced” 10 of the 15.

This year I have learned about positive self talk, imaging, goal setting, running in the heat and training not just with “time on feet”, but trying to prepare for specific course conditions (the roller coaster and rooty Uwharrie, down hill and heat of WS, roads and rocks of GEER, endless fire roads and jeep tracks of Masochist). Technical trail running is my favorite and my forte’ but this year practicing uphills and speed definitely helped a bunch.   For the next 2 months gone would be the 25-35 mile Saturday and/or Sunday trail runs and the week day scheduled track work outs and tempo runs or getting up at 4:15am to get my first of two 1.5 hour runs in that day… For the next couple months, instead of scheduling my life around running, I would run some, cycle, walk and pay more attention to other parts of life-like George and family, work, friends, Duncan, house, etc. The next two months I figured would be a great break and a huge relief.

But now I sit home and feel sort of empty and try to figure out how to make this transition…and it is with both relief and a bit of forlornness that I think about Mountain Masochist 2005, and hope with writing and reflection the shift will be more graceful.

I was very wound up since Wednesday before the Mountain Masochist. Hyper was too mild of a word. I was distracted at work, drank a little more wine than usual at home and anticipated the start of the race. I was incredibly excited to see on the entry list some East and West Coast running friends and acquaintances, especially those from NC and VA that have become a regular part of my life for these last 2.5+ years. And I felt strong and excited and thought that Anne Lundblat, Cat Phillips, Bev Abbs and I would surely push one another…I knew too, there were other strong woman that would pop up and give race too. I also knew if I ran well, I had a chance to place 1^st place in this year’s Montrail Ultra Cup-and that in itself would be exciting, not to mention how the $3,000 prize would help reimburse some of this years expenses and could be put in a kitty for next years travels…but thinking about that I got stressed and did my best to focus on being ready for 6:30am Saturday.

Since I am no good at concentrating on “beating” others-I must strive to define my race by different lines. David Horton had told me two weeks before during a training run that if I wanted to do well, I would have to run in under 8 hours and even then a win might not be possible. He suggested I cross Hwy 60 between 3:50 and 4 hours. Before that I hadn’t really given a serious thought as to time frame, but couldn’t imagine taking more than 40 minutes off my 8:35:58 time from last year.

With some consideration and after seeing “Make the impossible, possible” on a church billboard the following week, I decided to go for it.  I looked back at race history and used Mike Zealand’s 8:04:53 splits from 2000 to create a guideline. I studied the map and arrived early Friday afternoon and pre-drove and hiked parts of the course. George was driving to a cyclocross race in PA on Saturday and agreed to stop on route and crew after the halfway point.

I was proud to be wearing my Montrail Ultrarunning Team jersey and to have “101” pinned to my shorts as 6:30 Saturday am approached. As race start drew nearer, my nerves traded places with excitement and the anticipated feeling of freedom that has accompanied me during each ultra I’ve ever been a part of. I love being out there and trading in all my life responsibilities for several hours for a chance to run hard and sometimes “frolic” along the trail.

The first 20 or so miles passed very quickly and I chatted with Tom Possert for many miles. Cat Phillips joined us around mile 22ish and we three ran together until just before aid station 10. I felt good, was enjoying myself, but mildly concerned  I hadn’t mixed the gel with enough water and couldn’t squeeze it out of the bottle easily, so I ate less than half of what I’d planned. Coming to AS 10, I was excited to see George and cross Highway 60 at the target time.

I swapped my fanny pack out for a hand-held bottle, grabbed some single serve gel packs, swallowed  Succeed Caps and started up Buck Mountain. I passed horses during the 1^st minute or so and fell into a slow rhythmic jog, lumbering up the mountain. After about a mile I see a graceful woman in red skip on by. Anne Riddle Lundblad and I have known each other for years and I knew it was only a matter of time before she passed on the uphill. She is graceful and floats up hills. I called to her as she passed-“Anne, if I don’t see you later-GO FOR IT-I think a brunette should break the course record!” She looked over her shoulder and responded, ”We should both go for it!” I watched her dance up and up as I continued.

Distantly, I saw Anne a few times before AS 13. Arriving at The Loop, Horton called out that Anne was 2 minutes ahead and I was 7 minutes ahead of Nikki’s time from last year. As I made my way into the loop I started to feel yucky. Not nauseous or even overheated-it didn’t take long to figure that I needed more food. My blood sugar was in my socks. I hadn’t kept my reserves up enough during the 1^st half and now I was paying for it. The loop took a torturous 50 minutes (approx). I ran and slogged and hiked alone, and had a hard time keeping focus on the rocky downhill that I usually love so much. The “evil voices” began to try and tell me that I screwed up and was going to crash and that I wouldn’t be able to go hard anymore and that I was silly for going for 8hours…who was I kidding…etc  etc… finally I banished “the voices” and could concentrate on what I was doing and move.

Exiting the loop, I grabbed more gel packets and almost swallowed a peanut butter Clif Bar whole. Though I hadn’t wanted to eat much solid food for fear of having to stop and poop, I knew bar would help my blood sugar and risked the consequences. The calories soon kicked in and the low point lifted. I continued on alone ate some brownie at the next aid station. I was told that Anne was 6 minutes ahead and I looked at my watch. I thought if I could just keep working I still had a shot at sub 8 hours…I didn’t really think about racing other people at this point, just about doing my best.

The 10 miles of solitude ended somewhere on the other side of Elk Pond Mountain. Billy Barnett caught me said that Cat and Scott Jamie were about a minute and a half behind. I started to run harder. I followed Billy through the Parsons Ridge aid station where after we said going for sub 8 hours. He ran determined. Keeping him in my sight, I did too.

With about a mile and a half to go, just before the steep white gravel section, I saw George riding up on his cyclocross bike. Yipppeee, I was glad to see him! He cheered me on, and as he nodded towards Billy said, “you can both break 8 hours!” I told him I intended to, and also did not want to get passed by anyone at this point. He knew I was working too hard to talk and he cheered me on and took off to the finish.

I thought I would cry as I hit the pavement. My season was almost done. The joy, the stress, the time. So close. Still far. Must run hard. Don’t give up now. I don’t want to look at my watch as it will break my stride. Finish area in sight now. Run-watch Billy finish…oh my God I am almost there…trip up a bit around the orange cones, run between them and whew-Done! Hug David, hug George-hug and laugh and smile with anyone who was willing to do so with me!

I was thrilled with a sub 8 hour finish and eagerly looked for Anne to congratulate her. She had helped me achieve my goal and I felt proud to have finished within around 6 minutes of her. I congratulated her on her win and told her I was thrilled a brunette had beaten the old course record…what I wouldn’t know until later is that 2 brunettes did so that day-Anne by 6+ minutes and me by 5 seconds!

My Masochist experience was a sweet ending to a long and intense season. I was reminded about the importance of calories, planning and setting high goals with a plan for how to reach them. I was cheered on by so many friends and people that I didn’t know. People encouraged me and believed in me. My husband gave the gift of support and I talked with my Mom in NY before and after- and I talked to my Dad while out on the trail.

While at the finish line in Montebello I remember the constant words of the announcers at the Western States 100. The WS announcer continued to repeat hundreds of times as runners rounded the track that “no one completes the Western States alone”. I knew that was true while out there. It has been true for me at all other races this season and highlighted at Masochist this year. I didn’t finish the Mountain Masochist alone. Without the support of George and people I know and don’t know, I received encouragement, advice, kicks in the butt by other runners and an honest challenge by the race director. Montrail’s Krissy Sybrowsky and the other sponsors of the Montrail National Ultrarunning Team have been generous and encouraging.

As I wrap up writing this lengthy reflection, I feel a little less disoriented and a little less lost. I look forward to my upcoming “2 months off from serious training”, and hope I can be successful with my plan to give my body and mind a break so I will be ready to get back into training again in mid December. Thank you for listening!