I’m one of those weird runners that prefers running downhill before I run up. I think I’ve always liked saving the hardest part for last. Maybe I like the pressure, or maybe it’s just my nature as a procrastinator. So it’s possible I was made for the Black Canyon 50k course where the first 20 miles are all downhill.
I ran this race for the first time this year. It was my third 50k and my fastest ever with a time of 4:36:57 and 46th place overall. It was a magical day that I’ll never forget, but I know I’m capable of more.
The second half of this year has been a struggle. In June, a stubborn toe injury finally forced me to take a break from running. Then some personal demons crept into my life. I took up gravel biking and made the most of a rough summer with my first gravel race – the Crippler in Canyon City, CO.
Then fall came and I began to heal. My demons and I found some acceptable accord and I slowly reintroduced myself to running. All was looking up until it wasn’t. I was out on a training ride when my wheels slid out on an icy bridge. I crashed, cracking my helmet and road rashing up my shin, hip, and forearm.
I felt beaten up, inside and out. It was starting to feel like the universe was telling me to stop, like I had chosen the wrong life from a library of lives.
I was lost and yet there I was, continuing to ride and run again. I told myself I just needed to make it to another start line. So, I jumped into the Louisville Half-Marathon, finishing in 6th place and completing my farthest run since June.
Now that I’ve crossed that finish line, I feel that spark again. That desire to explore both new places and new limits.
I haven’t always been a shooter. I grew up in the background helping others take their shots. But it’s time to take my shot again.