Space, grace, and 100 miles

Javelina Jundred is a 100-mile foot race in Phoenix, Arizona. The start date is in late October, and temperatures can reach 80-95+ degrees F. There is minimal shade and coverage. It’s a “Jalloween Party” in the desert.

There are a ton of awesome reports and videos that nail the total Javelina Experience. I’ll spare you the details. The neat part of this race and what drew me to register is that it’s a looped course. There are five loops of roughly 20 miles, with the first being the longest with an added section.

I’ve lived in Phoenix for about 8 years. In one of my first summers, I trained for St. George 26.2, a marathon in October. After crossing that finish line, I swore off training for a marathon during a Phoenix summer. There were countless runs where I had to bail out due to overheating. It is an absolute struggle with the early wake-ups and temperatures hitting 90 plus before 7 a.m.

Two summers later, I ran the JFK 50-miler, a November race, for which I had trained through another summer. It was a much better experience, but I am sticking to my words: I have not and will not train through the summer for another marathon, just a couple of ultra marathons.

With a decent amount of summer training experience, I moved through this 100-mile training cycle efficiently. There were runs over 5 hours where I was fighting the oppressive sun, but I kept up well with hydration and fueling. There were days when I easily sweated out 4 lbs. Training was tough, but it being my first 100-mile training cycle, it was “easier” than I had thought.

Looped courses are an interesting challenge. With five loops of the course, I’ve heard several Javelina 100 vets say they refuse to step foot in the park where the race is staged. They hit a point during the race and started hurling expletives at some innocent cactus. Swearing off the race and all it encompasses. It’s a different type of mental challenge; in preparation, many of my runs were run in loops… I went with and without music; for the race, I didn’t break out my headphones until mile 80. 

I’ve easily been able to occupy my mind. As a kid, whenever I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the wood paneling in my bedroom, creating shapes and characters amongst the wooden groves on the wall. I’d give the shapes stories, and they would interact with each other. There was a cyborg-looking character and an Abe Lincoln character, and he had a droopy nose. You could have told me to watch the paint dry, and I would happily obliged.

Boredom was not and has not been an issue.

I think I hit my darkest spot at mile 75, loop 4. I was 5 miles out from my final crew point. It was cold and dark, and it was just past 2:00 a.m. I hit mile 80, and my crew point was mentally done. I wanted to be warm and sleep.

I had decided before the race that if I needed a nap, I would take a 5-10-minute nap. I dosed off in my chair for a solid 5 minutes, where 3 minutes were deep. I woke up a little fresher; it was enough to get me started on my fifth and final lap and to kickstart my brain.

We’re too quick to grow up and forget the power of a time out and naptime. By giving my brain a quick 5-minute break, my mindset changed from “Why am I so tired? Why do my legs and feet hurt,” to “This is the situation I’m in… Things suck, but I just crushed 80 miles… another 20 miles is just a *walk in the park.” *Death crawl in the desert.

That last loop was the hardest. There were three points where I thought about crashing on the side of the trail and letting the course sweep or coyotes take me away. I kept moving forward without any expectations, taking whatever my body would give. At mile 87, the sun began to rise. That was a huge mental boost. After a night of fluctuating between cold and even colder, the sun’s warmth felt energizing.

There was a point within the last few miles where I was physically, mentally, and emotionally DONE running. A loss of all energy and motivation instantly greeted any built momentum. It was a slow trot into the finish area where my crew awaited. When I first saw my crew awaiting the final section, I commented that my slow trot was my max speed, but as soon as I saw the finish flag, a wave of energy came over me, and that slow trot started to drop below 8:00min/mi for the last quarter of a mile. That was my last energy burst for the following few weeks…

I’ve been slow in writing a race recap and creating this blog. There are so many details and directions where I could take this post and blog. I wanted to get it right and hit every detail, but quickly realized it would take the form of something longer that I have no interest in. I then ran into the stress of covering the most important aspects… Important to me? To You?

This blog is my space… Like running, I hope that through writing, I will create a process for discovery—a space to explore myself, ideas, culture, and running. There will be structure, but like a Dalí piece, I want to explore the unconscious and the juxtapositions I face as a runner, a black male, a desert dweller… I want to challenge conditioned thought. I’m not going to get this right, but like in my 100 miler and life, I’ve learned that there’s no fun and little learning in doing things right.

I approached Javelina 100 training and race day with several goals, none of which were associated with time. My goals surrounded self-exploration, health, and mental/physical strength. I’m naturally hard on myself and am terrified of failure, neither of which are conducive to running your first 100-miler.

“Control the controllable; let the rest fall into place. Be patient and allow yourself to F*ck up.” 

On the pre-race call with my coach, he asked me to break the race into sections and create a mantra. A mantra that will get me through hard times without beating myself up. I’m already at war with the sun, dry desert terrain, the heat, and keeping hydrated. There was no point in adding another battle during that race. Only through keeping things simple, moving forward with minimal expectations, and allowing myself space to f*ck up and I was able to run 100 miles.