It was February of last year and the snow was slowly beginning to melt. I was trading more time in the mountains for time on the trails as I laced up in preparation for the annual Smith Rock Ascent Trail Race. I had never run a trail race before, let alone done any type of running. Being a bit late to the game, I signed up in February and had only a few weeks to condition myself for the 15 miles and 2-3,000 ft of elevation on rugged high desert trails.
The night before the race, I treated myself to an ungodly amount of carbs from the Bend classic Thai restaurant, Toomies. It couldn’t have been an hour later before I was standing at the microwave in my hotel room—the last thing I wanted to do was eat, but eating was exactly what I did. Along with my microwavable gourmet pesto pasta, I drank two Nalgenes of water. Hydration and carbs. My morning consisted of three more Nalgenes of water with a potato hash and I was out the door.
I found a parking spot and boarded the shuttle bus that took us to the main starting area where we were fitted with our racing bibs. I nervously looked around at groups of friends who had trained together and were joking about what a fun race this was. Obviously, they had done it before and they knew what they were up against. I, on the other hand, had never even pinned a bib to my shirt. I scarfed down one last banana and the bells rang. I gave my mom a wink and was down the trail. I just kept telling myself “you’re doing it,” trying not to lose all my energy at the beginning of the race. Soon the downhill became flat ground for a while, and then the fun really began. If you’ve been to Smith Rock, you’ve seen this trail. It’s the long, lonely, steep road that slashes into the massive hillside, usually illuminated by a hazy golden color from the setting sun, but today it was soaked in rain. With so much time ahead of me on that trail, I started to notice what my mind was saying. My thoughts became louder than my heartbeat “it’s hot, it’s so steep, it hurts, you’re so slow…” Eventually I stopped, catching a breath at the top of Burma Road. With my hands on my head I looked out at the expanse of Central Oregon in front of me. A view like that simply cannot coexist with such negative thoughts. Sure, it was hot, it was steep, it did hurt, and yes, I was one of the slowest, but I was still doing it. That is all that mattered to me in that moment and for the rest of the race I repeated those three words “you’re doing it.” Those three words got me to the aid station and up to Grey Butte and back down to the finish line in the pouring rain. I made a wonderful friend, a 66-year-old woman named Wiskie who was running this race to train for a marathon in a few weeks! She was “doing it” too! You see, I learned something that day that I will carry for a long time, if not forever. It’s not about doing what everyone else is doing, it’s not about following someone else’s schedule, or being perfect even in your own eyes. It’s simply about taking action and “doing it,” whatever “it” is. Putting one step in front of the other with a calm mind will get you places you could never have imagined. I ran the Smith Rock Ascent and came in smokin’ hot in the very last place possible with my gal Wiskie and we had an absolute blast. We did it.
(This is Wiskie, my running buddy)
- by Blair Roessel