Orcas 100 and the rest.
Orcas was more of a mental necessity than a race or event. My spirit was yearning for a finish line, some small moment to peek out of the liminal space I had found myself running from a less than fulfilling 2015.
The reality of crossing over into that refreshed mindset came tumbling down as 10 days prior to toeing the start line, I ravaged my right ankle. I recognized the problematic potential of attempting the stout Orcas 100 profile. Even if I could somehow manage to move on the bulb, my left ankle is still prone to giving out after HURT in 2015. Through the support of close friends and respected physiotherapists, I made the hard choice to attempt the, for me, impossible: complete a 100 miler on a freshly sprained ankle. I had told myself that if there was legitimate pain, I would stop.
Orcas 100 came and went. Another 100 miles ticked by with the typical but awe-inspring Pacific Northwest beauty. I thoroughly enjoyed Rainshadow’s foray into the 100 mile distance. They managed a seemingly flawless first 100 with an incredible host of volunteers.
Having collected my mental fortitude and confidence again, the path ahead was my toughest challenge to date. Rest. Healing. Recovery. My body needed it. I was going full on for quite some time. I sunk myself into preparing for a mid-summer 2015 race which was cancelled, leading me to attempt Fat Dog again with a lackluster spirit. Don’t attempt something that requires all of you when you are not willing to be all in.
Work hard and the rest will sort you out. With patience and failed attempts, I have finally been able to return to my love of running.
Keep moving, except when you shouldn’t.