Am I crazy?

-
Am I crazy? Don't answer that. I might not like the answer.

What makes me think that I can run/hike/trek/waddle/or crawl 560 miles in 14 days, with a warmup of 8 miles the day before the real adventure begins? But actually, the new data says the mileage is really 597. That's not the kind of news flash I was looking for. I just had a friend ask, "Do you think you'll have to walk at all?" Seriously? Can you tell they aren't a trail runner? No matter the style or speed of pedestrianizing, that's a long, long way in a relatively short period of time.

There are five of us, one other girl and three guys, who are planning on traversing all the miles of the Appalachian Trail that reside within Virginia's borders. If you aren't familiar with the area, that means mountains, a lot of big, tough mountains. The Trail has a habit of going up and down, up and down, over and over again. Sure, there are great views along the way, but each one has to be earned by innumerable foot plants.

Why? Why not choose to flit away the summer in the refreshing waters of my backyard pool? To be honest, I'm not sure. I love doing that! But each of us probably has a different answer. For me, my longest adventures have been about 300 trail miles in a week. When this opportunity came up, I jumped at the chance to push the boundaries of what is possible for me. But now that it is two days and counting, the reality of what I signed up for is hitting me like a brick dropped from the Empire State building.

I've probably trained more consistently for this adventure than any other. Still, I'm not a poster-child for the high-mileage club--and never will be. I'm a 55-year old woman, not that I want to use age or gender as an excuse. It always seems like I have an ache or pain of some sort. The temperatures are supposed to be hovering around the 100 degree mark with high humidity to boot. Heat eats me alive. Water sources may be slim, making the task of being self-sufficient over 32 - 46 miles challenging, to say the least. From experience, I expect tendons to get crunchy and feet to swell after a few days. My eyes will droop more than normal from lack of sleep and good old-fashioned fatigue. But. . .

There's always a but. My "but" is simply that I thrive on learning lessons about pain and perseverance, joy in the midst of suffering, and tackling what most think is impossible. Is failure possible? Sure. A rattlesnake could strike, a bone could break, or the body could refuse to participate any longer. Still, I can't explain the quiet confidence I have in covering the distance. It doesn't make sense but I believe it to be true.

After Friday, June 29, I will take a sabbatical from blogging until I return home in mid-July. I don't dare take on any more pressure to find the means to do so after a long, hard day. I will need every ounce of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual strength to make it through. I will try to post on Facebook from my phone as coverage (and batteries) allow. My husband, Gary, will also post updates after speaking with me on what we hope to be daily check-ins.

If you care to see where we will be, check out our itinerary. If we are passing through your area, feel free to come join us for a spell. And it almost goes without saying that an ice-cold soda or raspberry tea would be a fabulous treat!










Comments

Casseday said…
Good luck and enjoy the journey!
June 27, 2012 at 9:38 PM
Rebekah Trittipoe said…
Thanks, Adam. I will try to remember to be like the bear who went over the mountain to see what he could see.
June 28, 2012 at 7:59 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

100 miles and a buckle

-
Image
True confessions. The last 100-miler I successfully completed was in 2008 at the inaugural Grindstone, a rugged mountain race with a ton of climb and descent. Then and for the most part, I stopped trying. Running the long stuff was getting harder with each passing year. It was in 2021 that my Forest Gump moment of "I'm tired. I think I'll go home" caused me to pull out of Yeti 100 at mile 64. What a wuss. Near the end of December 2022, I decided to give a 100 another go. My training partner and I picked a race that seemed like a good fit with a generous time limit. Last month I stopped 14 miles short of 100 miles at the rain and rock-ridden Greenbriar 100 , a race erroneously touted as non-technical.  Within a day of waddling through my front door after the race, I signed up for the C&O Canal 100 as my redemption, slated to be held a slim month after the Greenbriar event. I was sick and tired of failing to achieve a 100-mile completion and the acquisition of a big
Read more

A view from the front (seat)

-
Image
It was in November 2021 that Rachel Tillas took her first steps into the world of ultrarunning by competing in the MMTR 50. But it started in July of 2021 when Belinda, Rachel's mom, messaged to tell me Rachel had converted from the 400m distance run so quickly in high school to a marathon. But more importantly, as one of Rachel's high school coaches, Belinda thought I should know that Rachel had mentioned trying Hellgate one day. My response? "Alrighty then. She needs to start going with me to the mountains. This makes me happy." And to the mountains we went. I was the tour guide and Rachel my companion. She was bright and mature, contributing to great conversations despite the almost 40 year age difference. But soon enough, I did her no favors by asking her to join me on no more than a handful of other runs. I consistently held her young, spry self back. I was too slow to be any good to her. With colleagues at the hospital who ran fast, strong and long, I found mys
Read more

Still learning lessons after all those miles

-
Image
 In the aftermath of my third 24-hour race, I am recoiling a bit. The phrase, "There is dignity in completion," written by ultrarunning great and philosopher, Sabrina Little , is running a circuitous route through my gray matter. I am bothered by it--and somewhat embarrassed--that I stopped approximately two hours and five minutes short of the 24-hour mark. Why? Why did I decide to bag the effort with time remaining on the clock? It's complicated but at the same time quite simple. Sabrina also put digital pen to paper to say  "Patience is the virtue of remaining in difficulty."  If I understand that concept correctly, there is an embedded implication that not choosing to remain in the difficulty is a sign of impatience, a not-so-virtuous marker of sub-optimal character. So yikes. It's a little disconcerting to contemplate the extent of my failing. Here's the backstory. With no pressure-producing cut-off designations, the timed races (eg. 24 hrs) hold a
Read more