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When good results disappoint

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"If you don't find something you can fix, I will be greatly disappointed," I stated matter-of-factly to my cardiologist. And I was serious. Dead serious. I was laying in my hospital bed waiting to be wheeled into the cath lab to get a clear picture of what was happening--or not happening--inside those skinny little coronary arteries. If he did not find something to stent, like he did five years ago, my symptoms would have no chance of being validated. I will spare you all the details, but my running has really taken a dive over the last few months. The group of women I run with can be chatting it up having a great time, only to unintentionally pull away and leave me eating their dust. I try to keep up but it's like my engine is throttled back by a governor, heart rate zooming upwards to no avail. I simply can't go. I feel my chest tighten and throat close. I have to walk. I hate being the anchor. Lately, I make excuses to why I can not join them on those long Satu...
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"Last verse, same as the first." In same ways, yes. My last race was the same as my first: I started. I finished. But in many ways, there's no comparison. It took ten finishes and 666 miles  of the devilish Hellgate 100K race to figure it out. The brainchild of Dr. David Horton, the Hellgate 100k+ (actually 66.6 miles) always begins at one minute after midnight on the second Saturday of December. The race has garnered a near cult-following, many hopeful entrants turned away. Those rewarded a cherished spot must earn Horton's approval as a worthy candidate. It is he who judges an applicant's toughness and ability to cover the rocky, mountainous real estate between the start and finish lines. But even so, the chosen few are never guaranteed a finish. What they are promised is a night and a day of unpredictable weather, trail conditions, and a barrage of self-doubt somewhere along the forest path. I was forty-five when I sold my soul to the trail devils. N...
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Win a free scarf!

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