Climbing the Mountain

Digging deep. (www.mattmahoney.net)

A while back I offered a few thoughts on motivation - specifically, what is it that drives me and other like-minded idiots who seem to enjoy spending their free time running for hours and days upon end over mountains and through seemingly endless woods? Are we driven by recognition from others for our efforts? The thrill of it all? The swag? Or simply the personal satisfaction of pushing our own boundaries and accomplishing things that we once thought to be impossible?

I feel that most of my motivation is still extrinsic. As much as I hate to admit it, I am definitely an ego-driven individual. I consider internalizing my motivations to be an important step in my desire to let go of my own ego but it is certainly a journey that I am still on and seemingly far from completing. I recently came across a passage in the book "Zen and the Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert Pirsig that struck me in which the narrator describes an experience involving a pilgrimage to a holy mountain in India. The subject of the story was in the company of devout pilgrims who were there to climb this mountain out of religious devotion, which he contrasted with his subject's own egocentric motivations:

"He never reached the mountain. After the third day he gave up, exhausted, and the pilgrimage went on without him. He said he had the physical strength but that physical strength wasn't enough. He had the intellectual motivation but that wasn't enough either. He didn't think he had been arrogant but thought that he was undertaking the pilgrimage to broaden his experience, to gain understanding for himself. He was trying to use the mountain for his own purposes and the pilgrimage too. He regarded himself as the fixed entity, not the pilgrimage or the mountain, and thus wasn't ready for it. He speculated that the other pilgrims, the ones who reached the mountain, probably sensed the holiness of the mountain so intensely that each footstep was an act of devotion,an act of submission to this holiness. The holiness of the mountain infused into their own spirits enabled them to endure far more than anything he, with his greater physical strength, could take.

To the untrained eye, ego-climbing and selfless climbing may appear identical. Both kinds of climbers place one foot in front of the other. Both breathe in and out at the same rate. Both stop when tired. Both go forward when rested. But what a difference! The ego-climber is like an instrument that is out of adjustment. He puts his foot down an instant too soon or too late. He's likely to miss a beautiful passage of sunlight through the trees. He goes on when the sloppiness of his step shows he is tired. He rests at odd times. He looks up the trail to see what's ahead even though he knows what's ahead because he just looked a second before. He goes too fast or too slow for the conditions and when he talks his talk is forever about somewhere else, something else. He's here but he's not here. He rejects the here, is unhappy with it, wants to be further up the trail but when he gets there he will be just as unhappy because then it will be 'here'. What he's looking for, what he wants, is all around him, but he doesn't want that because it is all around him. Every step is an effort, both physically and spiritually, because he imagines his goal to be external and distant."

There is so much in this passage that I can identify with, both on the trail and, in a larger sense, my daily life. I have a feeling I am going to spend a good bit of time trying to unpack this passage for myself. I can appreciate its reinforcement of the idea of truly being "in the moment." As it relates specifically to my running experiences, I have noticed a marked difference between the days when I am running for glory and gusto versus the days when I am content to embrace the experience itself without expectation, accepting whatever lessons the day might bring. The former tends to be both physically and mentally exhausting, while the latter is actually invigorating and can even be restorative. 

Like I said, I could go on about the implications for this reflection in my "day-to-day" but I think I'll leave that for another post. I have trail races over the next 2 weekends that I am using as training runs for October's main event. Perhaps I can use these runs as preparation for the mind as well as for the body - as opportunities to work on releasing my ego, becoming more like those selfless climbers described above. 

I think I'll close with a thought from Thich Nhat Hanh, one of my favorite writers whom I have referenced many times before in my blog:

Cheers, and happy trails!

Playing in the Wasatch Range

Lovely stock photo...(Source)

I had the supremely good fortune to spend a few days last week with a good friend on the Wasatch Front Trail near Salt Lake City, Utah. Running and hiking the trails in the high country is good for my soul, even though I struggled a bit with the steep climbs and high altitude. Salt Lake City is quite a beautiful city tucked into the foothills of the Wasatch mountain range and appears to have a very active outdoorsy-type of population (at least from what I was able to see). It seems like a pleasant enough place to live, especially for the outdoor enthusiast. 

The week provided me with some decent training time of my own as I enter the final few weeks before Grindstone. I must say that while my training has been spot-on, my confidence is pretty shoddy right now. Getting up many of the climbs proved much more difficult than I would have hoped; however I was able to get over a couple climbs in excess of 1000'/mile and collected over 12,000' of climbing for the week. Not too bad. But humbling nonetheless. It appears that flatlanders like me are generally not predisposed to handling the rugged features and relentless climbing found on mountain ranges!! It is what it is though - onward and upward.

Another blogger posted a race plan for this weekend's Leadville 100 that was brilliant in it's simplicity. I believe I will adopt the same for my race in October.

1. When I can, I will run.

2. When I can't run, I will walk.

3. I will eat as much as my glass stomach will allow me to.

4. I will hit Winfield [Reddish Knob Turn Around] around the time I get there.

5. My goal finish time is whenever I cross the finish line.

(Source Here)

Here are some trail pics from a beautiful part of the world:

  

8 Weeks to Grindstone

Tonight I clicked over to my training schedule for the week and my attention was immediately drawn to the header: "8 weeks to Grindstone."

To quote from the event's website: "Grit, endurance, temporary loss of sanity. You might need all of these if you want to attempt Grindstone. If you want to finish, well, just keep in mind this is, without a doubt, the hardest 100 miler east of the 100th meridian. Now that you’re hooked, Grindstone is going to be an incredible adventure for each and every entrant. From the beautiful start/finish location at Camp Shenandoah to the monster climbs and the solitude of single track ridge running, you just can’t beat Grindstone… but you can try!"

Gulp. I am happy to say that my training has been progressing quite well - I feel good, my weekly mileage has gradually increased over the past couple months from 40, to 50, 60, and now 70 mpw. I'll step it back this week to rest, then push on toward 80 and maybe even get to 90 before the tapering starts. And yet the voice in the back of my head is asking, "Is it enough?"

The challenge in preparing for this race is that, well, there really is no way for me to adequately prepare for this race. I can work on long slow climbs using a treadmill, but that won't simulate the extreme technicality of the course. I can get on some local fire roads that are steep and rocky, but they are very short and don't offer sustained climbs that will remotely resemble what I'll face on race day. 

All I can do in this case is prepare in the best way that I am able and bring whatever game I have to the race. It'll be an exercise in grit and determination, with a pinch or 2 of positive thinking thrown in for good measure. I'll have to remember the mantras: "Trust your training." "Have a plan and work your plan." "One step at a time." "Run your own race." 

They say the race itself is simply the end of a very long road that began with the start of this training cycle a few months ago. All the miles on the roads and trails, all the hours in the weight room, they all will bring me to that final 100 miles. It's just up to me to finish it. Would that I have the strength and perseverance to do so.