Pain.

 Pain. 

I've had pain for a long time. 

Physical pain I've had for about 15 years. It's from back injuries. L5/S1 disc ruptures. Narrowing of the nerve tubes, i forget the technical term now, neuropathy, degenerative disc disease, pain and numbness down my right side sciatic nerve and the bottom of my right foot. Makes it challenging to walk, run, jump etc.

15 years. 

Every day. It's always there. Always. it never goes away. It drives you nuts some days and others you hardly notice it. 

I spent a lot of time running away from that pain. Trying to cover it up and avoid it.

The last several years I've spent confronting that pain. Finding ways to deal with it. Finding ways to strengthen weak areas. It helps. It's hard though. It requires something everyday. Some amount of effort has to go into it everyday. Otherwise it's too much. 

I never thought that the course of treating that pain would lead to treating other pain. I didn't really think I had other pain. I thought that I was as well as I could be. 

I was wrong. 

The past 6 months have been a rollercoaster of me confronting that other pain. That emotional pain. The root pain. 

I didn't realize that's what i was doing at first. I didn't realize that I had chosen to take up that fight. I was just going along and suddenly I was over my head in a fight for my life. 

I had made a decision to confront. To confront how I felt about someone else and that triggered a confrontation with myself. Myself that I didn't like. Myself that I didn't love. 

It was excruciating.

It hurt far more than the physical pain ever did. 

It made me want to die.

That's how much it hurt. 

The physical pain had never done that to me.

So I had to fight it. Fight it or die. 

I got help. I just barely got help in time. I really don't know how I hung on long enough waiting for that help. 

This confrontation was with trauma. Childhood and adolescent. 

Apparently it's traumatic for a parent to tell a child that their feelings are not ok. Apparently it's traumatic to punish a child for expressing their feelings. I didn't know that. 

I knew I hurt inside. I knew I felt disgusting and gross and unattractive and unlovable, ashamed, no confidence, etc.

I didn't know why. 

I know why now. 

It's because I was never taught to love myself. 

I was never taught that how I feel is ok. 

I was taught that feelings are something to be hidden away. Don't show that to other people! 

Which is of course ridiculous. 

And so those emotions would build and build and build inside until they would eventually explode outward. In displays of anger, in destructive behavior, in pushing myself physically, in pronouncements of love. 

It took a long time and help to heal from that pain. To heal that damage. 

I am supposed to express feelings. It's normal. I should feel love for myself. I should appreciate who I am. How unique I am. And I am unique. 

I'm not completely healed. I don't know if anyone ever is. A bunch of blockage, wreckage and scars got lifted from my path. I can see my path again. I can see that I belong on it. I can see that I'm supposed to be walking it. It's like I knew i was on the path before but I couldn't see it or feel it. 

It feels good.

It's not easy. Loving who you are is not easy in this world. Everything around you is trying to steal that from you. To steal it away so the other can feel better about themselves for a moment. Or so they can bring you down to their level. To how much pain they're in. Don't let us. Starve them out. Don't let us/them steal that love from you. Fight for it! Don't allow someone to make you feel ashamed of who you are, of the things you say or do. Don't let them. Their morals are not yours. Their path is not yours. You are only responsible to yourself. You don't need them. 

You don't need someone like me, like I was. 

2019 Tuscobia 160 Bike

"This was supposed to be a no rough stuff type deal!"

Race report?

Sure, maybe.

I'm going to try and write a bit about how this race went for me, what it meant and the fallout from it.
So, where to begin. I suppose we should start at the beginning.

Saturday morning 3am. I get up and begin my race day prep, eating, drinking, going to the bathroom, freaking out about my choices both on the bike and what I'd put in my drop bag. Thankfully the drop bag is out of my control by this point so I don't freak out about it too much.

Around 5am I'm in the car and head over to the KC hall to check in.

I get checked in and then head out on the bike for a small warm up ride, just back down the trail towards the Kwik Trip, just enough to get the legs moving and shift through the gears and grab the brakes a few times, make sure my blinky lights are on and working.
6am. We all line up and head out en mass.

Goal time: 20 hours total time.

The trail is riding great, firm and fast on the edges and the edges are wide. Awesome!
I'm pushing hard for about 10 minutes or so until I realize how much work I'm doing and decide to dial it back. I know I can't keep pushing that hard and expect to make it through the whole race. After pushing too hard at the DAMN this summer that lesson was still fresh in my mind.
All the 45 or so miles to the first checkpoint at Ojibwa I'm cruising along ahead of my goal pace, still a bit too fast but not unmanageable.

I get into Ojibwa and out in about 30 minutes or so, maybe it was 45, I don't remember. I did all my necessary refuels and bathroom and then headed out again.

Coming out of Ojibwa the trail started to soften up. The firm edges of the trail are still in place but they're getting softer all the time. Difficult to hold the line and not wipe out. It's like trying to ride a singletrack trail in the winter that has a big rut down the middle. That's about the width of firm snow you have to deal with. If you can't hold that line you're going to lose. And I do. Many times. Eventually I finally get the idea that this isn't going to get any better.
Then it started to rain. Or sleet. Or whatever.
It was around 25 miles of rainy stuff into Park Falls.
By the time I get there I'm soaked. I'm not cold. Just soaked.
Even though the going got slower from Ojibwa to Park Falls I still managed to roll in at about my goal time of 10hrs.

Park Falls.
Its raining. Hard? Hard enough.
I set the bike down and grab the couple things I need off the bike and head inside.
A sanctuary awaits.
Warm happy people inside.
Hot soup. Hot sandwiches. So good!
I eat as much as I can. Get refilled on water and head to my drop bag. I'm a little out of sorts at this point and so my conversation with people isn't great.
I take my time and change out of everything. I had a spare set of clothes in my drop bag that I knew would work well for the rain that was foretasted. I was hoping the rain would hold off until I had gotten to Park Falls but I wasn't quite that lucky. Fortunately the stuff I had on kept me plenty warm.
So I change into my rain gear which I knew I'd need moving forward. Which is to say I put on a rain jacket. I also put on dry thermal bib tights and socks. They stayed dry for a little bit.

In Park Falls and leaving there I was lucky enough to ride with Joe Clark. We had ridden a bit together earlier in the day and then lost each other. Now we were setting out together again and my spirits were high. Joe's a great guy to ride with. Very experienced and knows the how and the right amount to talk while riding.

Between Park Falls and Ojibwa on the way back.
It's raining. It doesn't stop raining. The trail gets softer and softer. The temperature had risen and on top of that rain makes snow soft, and slushy.
We ride. We fall. We ride. We fall. We finally give in and drop some tire pressure.
We ride. We fall. We ride. We fall. We finally give in and drop some tire pressure.
I think we ended up stopping or taking a pause at every road intersection on the way back. We're getting tired. We're getting water logged. The bikes are getting heavier from the rain. Its hard work. But we keep at it. One section at a time.
My goal time goes out the window. Secondary goal of finishing in 24 hours comes into play. Is it possible? Maybe. We'll see.

Ojibwa.
Rest. Warmth. Food and water.
Get a chance to talk with Jamison for a bit. I'm bummed to find out that he's dropping. Sucks.
Head back out there with Joe.

I can't keep my pace up. Joe pulls out ahead of me. Or I crashed and couldn't catch back up? Or I stopped to check something and he pulled away? I don't remember. Doesn't matter. I'm riding alone now.

I keep trudging along. It doesn't get easier. It gets harder.
24hr goal seems unmanageable. New goal. Finish. Whatever it takes.

Things get a bit hazy in this section.
I'm alone. It's dark. My arms are tired and it's hard to control the bike in the tiny width of firm snow at the edge of the trail. My brain starts to get worn out from the thinking, the thinky work.
My legs are fine. Tired but they don't feel like cramping. That's a good thing.

The climb up from Lemington. Or the Railroad Crossing. Whichever you prefer.
Long story short. I walk a lot. This whole section from Lemington to Birchwood my thoughts are constantly cycling back around to pulling the plug and finding a place to bivy up. I take it one crossing at a time thinking that if I make it to a crossing it'll be a better spot to bivy if someone needs to come find me.
I stop here and there to wring my socks out. My feet aren't cold, thank god. Just wet and its annoying.

This whole adventure could be summed up like that. Annoying. Nothing dangerous. Just incredibly annoying.

I keep moving forward.

I keep running through my mental checklist: Take a drink, have a bite, are you alive? Yes? Then keep moving forward.

I make it to Birchwood eventually. At the outskirts of Birchwood I feel like I've made it.
The next mile or so takes close to an hour.
From just after Ed's pit stop until Featherstone RV park or so, its just a slop slog.
There's a bunch of little hills in this section, in and out of gullies really, and it's slush all the way up and down. Not much riding happens here.
I keep an eye out for a store that might be open or the group that had the tent set up last year or the turn off to the Birchwood Trail peoples clubhouse but I can't find it. It's just before 5am so the odds that something'd be open is small.
I stop and snack and drink.

The next 15 or 16 miles take 3ish hours. My stomachs a mess. I force food and water in. I don't want to stop.
There's a hill. I walk up and down it.
My gps is getting low. Will it be enough to make it? Yes. Ok. Keep moving.
I keep thinking back to last year. This was the section Doom lapped me in. It was so much bumpier last year. My hands and arms and back got so beat up in this section last year.
This year it's all slop. The firm edges are gone. It's better to ride down the middle now and deal with the slush.

"Don't miss the turn!"
I missed the turn during my pre-ride the day before. Or was it 2 days before by now? Friday night, whenever that was.
I make the turn.
Headwind. Fuck. Whatever. Fuel up and keep punching it.

1 or 2 miles from the finish. I'm going to make it. Oh no, fuck I'm not going to make it. I get off and walk, why? I don't know.
Joe comes up from behind me!
Joe? What? I thought you'd have finished at least an hour ago?? "Oh I stopped at the clubhouse in Birchwood and got rested up for a bit."
Damn!
I get choked up I'm so happy to see someone I know again.
We're almost done. "You got some gas to bring it on home?" "No Joe. I'm good. I'll make it but I'm spent."
We finish.
I finish.
We get our pictures taken.
I get my picture taken.
Its around 8am Sunday. 26 hours later.

I get my finisher hat. It's mine. My precious!

I'm numb. I don't feel happy or sad. I'm just numb. I'm glad its over.

What did it all mean? Why'd I do it? Why'd I make it?
Tuscobia started out for me in my mind as a means to an end. It's a way to qualify for Arrowhead. Do the 80 mile. Do the 160. Get into Arrowhead. Because that's the goal. Finish Arrowhead by the time I'm 40. My "Mid Life Winter Ultra Crisis."
I never thought Tuscobia would get this hard. Could be this rough. "How could it be that hard?? It's flat!!" I know right? What the hell.
It's the distance. It's the conditions.
Now Tuscobia's it's own thing. I'll be back. I want to see if I can do better.

Why'd I make it? I chose wisely. I think clothing had a big role to play. I think acceptance of the conditions is another big part of it. You just need to accept that you'll be wet. It's annoying but it won't kill ya. I decided to accept that my goals wouldn't happen. I needed to change that goal multiple times throughout the day. I had to accept nothing less than finishing.
I also firmly believe that I finished because I didn't stop to put my earbuds back in after Ojibwa on the way back. For some reason that became a mental line in the sand. "If I stop to turn the music back on...I'm sunk."
I've always thought that I had it in me to find a way to finish. Now I know for sure. This goal is too important to me to give up on. Not unless I'm broken. And even then I'd try to find a way.

What does it all mean? Who fucking cares! I love it!
It means I'm in this community. This Winter Ultra community. It's a big deal. It might be small, but it's a big deal.

The fallout.
I can't write about this right now. I'll postpone it to it's own thing. I just want to get this finished and posted up. It's taken me over a week to write this up. Jeesh.