A common thread that seems to tie together many of my races over the past year and a half is a tendency toward "bonking" - that dreaded sensation when blood sugar gets low and previously high spirits evaporate like dew in the morning sun. It's notoriously referred to in marathon circles as the "wall" and usually hits runners between 20-22 miles. In my case it is usually accompanied by doubt and discouragement, and while it has only caused me to actually DNF (did not finish) on one occasion, it has certainly hampered my performance on others. I do not hear that term used in the ultra community often because by definition ultras exceed (and in some cases exceed by a wide margin) the time and mileage demands of the marathon - not to mention the fact that ultrarunners are generally averse to being compared to or adopting any of the jargon of their road running brethren. But that doesn't mean it's not there. In both marathons and ultras, it is incumbent upon the runner to learn their own limitations and train and prepare themselves to overcome them.
In my journey on the roads and now the trails I am learning that hitting the wall is not simply brought about by one variable acting in isolation. It is actually a combination of factors that seem to work in tandem with each other. Negative thoughts can certainly have an adverse affect on performance by themselves, and when coupled with poor nutritional choices on race day (and throw in a pinch of dehydration for good measure), the resulting cocktail can quickly bring a promising day to an abrupt end. Environmental conditions can also play a factor - for example, warm days with a hot sun overhead force the body into shutdown mode more quickly than a cool, overcast day (obviously). Yet in many of my training runs in the middle of the summer, I seem to have have little difficulty in dealing with the heat. So what is the difference on race day?
Getting back to negative thoughts, I believe the mental aspect plays a much larger role in scaling the wall than I would have acknowledged in the past. Most studies cite blood oxygenation and muscle glycogen capacities; for my part I have observed that there really isn't anything magical about 20 miles. Prior to training for and running ultras, I feared the 20 mile marker with the same sense of dread that many would reserve for spiders or public speaking. It seemed to be a scientific standard, much like absolute zero or the speed of light. Yet I have learned that through my own training and preparation, not to mention careful study of the many, many runners out on the trails who are more accomplished than I could ever hope to be, the walls that I fear are so often seemingly self-created. 20 miles is not a problem for me now and, in some training cycles, represents a mid-week training run.
Like every other competitor that pins on a bib and toes the line, I expect to perform well. I am diligent in my training and, when the stars have aligned, have tasted success in a race or two. Perhaps the added pressure of performing well adds to the level of fatigue that eventually wears on me and manifests itself in a kind of physical lethargy. On the other hand, perhaps while I have been assiduous in my physical preparation, I have neglected the mental side of succeeding at longer distances. Perhaps this is the next wall I need to learn to ascend.
That is not to say that I don't think that there are some true physical limitations that come into play. But as I prepare to turn the pages of the calendar and look forward to 2015, my focus will be on the mental aspect of scaling the wall. I still have much to learn and I am still hoping for that next magical race when everything comes together. Until then I will continue to stumble along, putting one foot in front of the other.
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