For as long as I can remember, I've always had trouble expressing negative emotions. Given the environment I grew up in, the people who surrounded me, and the situations that I witnessed as a teenager and an impressionable child, I became pretty skilled at sweeping my emotions under the rug. Don't get me wrong, I had a great upbringing with a loving family, but the message that I was taught, whether it was intended to be this way or not, was if you had a problem, crying or complaining would not be tolerated. Don't cry about it, just take action and solve it. In my eyes, letting my guard down and showing vulnerability was a sign of weakness. As an angst driven teenager, whenever I felt sadness, hurt, or insecurity, I tried to cover it up with a rebellious attitude. I was never a bad kid, but I was always a bit of a rebel. It's not that I didn't take my problems seriously, I just wanted people to think otherwise. I wanted to be the happy guy who didn't have a care in the world. Oh, you have problems? Who cares! Be happy. When good things happened I celebrated and showed immense excitement. But if something bad happened? Eh, oh well. It's all good. During the months that followed my mother's death in 2005, my family and friends were extremely concerned about me. Everyone else in my family was grieving over our loss, but I barely shed a tear in the presence of others, even during the funeral. I cried alone but there was no way I could cry in front of others. It wasn't the way I was brought up. I had to hold it together and be the tough guy. Over the past year, especially the last six months, I've been slowly learning how much I didn't know back then. My personal life has been in a tailspin for the last six months, and thanks to some devastating events that have occurred and the help of my therapist, it has been becoming increasingly apparent that this is no way to live. Being happy all the time, minimizing problems, and not showing negative emotion is by no means normal or healthy. I've always wanted to be the eternal optimist, but letting others around me know when I'm upset or angry if I'm feeling that way doesn't make me a pessimist. It makes me a normal human being with real feelings. Being positive and solutions oriented is a great personality trait, but still, I need to allow myself to feel pain when life brings bad news. If a situation is bad, I can't act like everything is fine. It's not good for me nor is it good for others around me. Over the last several months I've practiced expressing negative emotions and opening up to my friends and family about my mother's death and the pain I've been feeling lately because of the state of my personal life. I couldn't believe some of the things I was telling people. A year ago I would have never shared such feelings and thoughts with anyone. But now I was, and the support I've received has been overwhelming. It's helped me get through hard times, brought me closer to my friends and family, and although it's taken a long time (thirty-two years for god's sake), it's made me a better person. I'm beginning to see that it's okay to show anger or sadness when I'm in a bad situation, but still remain calm and be a problem solver.
The situation I was in was definitely a bad one. The slices of watermelon and pickles that I wolfed down at the Rucky Chucky aid station at mile fifteen had helped a little, but even with the help of a little food, my energy levels were still low. The trail continued to roll along the American River and eventually let me to a beautiful, grassy meadow. By that point, I was convinced that the only way I was going to finish this race, if I could finish, was by moving at a snail's pace. This meant walking a good portion of the rest of the race and running only when capable. It wasn't ideal, but it was the only way. As I shuffled by a hiker who was out for a mid-morning stroll, I said hello. "Nice work. How're ya feeling?" he asked. I didn't feel good at all. "Great! I feel awesome!". That's what I would have said a year ago if I were in this same situation. But that's not who I wanted to be anymore. It's hard for me to accept defeat, but I had to say how I really felt. I had to be honest. "I'm struggling. I just have no energy. I'm having an off day". It wasn't easy to say that out loud to someone else. The trail was the absolute last place I wanted to show vulnerability. But I have to admit, it felt good to be honest. "Well, you look great. Keep it up!" I thanked him and pressed on. Things were dismal at the moment, but being honest about how I felt to a total stranger made me feel more at ease. I felt like my state of mind was better that it would have been if I had said that everything was just fine and dandy and I was about to throw it into overdrive and drop all these pansies in front of me. I expressed my honest feelings again when a runner passed by me a mile later. "I'm having a hard time too man, it's a tough race. But keep going you got this!" he answered. Just like that, things were starting to pick up again. I felt like I was coming back. Perhaps by showing honest emotions and vulnerability, I was purging my mind of the negative energy that was slowing me down. Maybe I was doing something right here.
Eventually the aid station at the river crossing emerged through the brush. After I crossed the river I would have another twelve miles to cover which sounded unsettling, but I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I grabbed some salt tablets, wolfed down some peanuts, and grabbed onto the rope that stretched across the river as I stepped in. The frigid water came up to my stomach and I kept a tight grip on the rope as I made my way, step by awkward step, to the other side of the river. After climbing out of the water, I expressed my feelings of concern to some volunteers and their words of encouragement were a powerful tonic. Not only could I feel the negative energy escaping from my mind, but the river crossing had cooled me off and put some life back into me and I was getting a second wind. I began running once again along the rolling trail. I still felt exhausted, but the second wind that I caught was carrying me along. There were only one hundred and ten runners doing the 50K so I ran mostly on my own, but when I caught up with some other guys, we exchanged pleasantries, told stories, and encouraged each other. When I eventually rolled into the Quarry Road aid station, I had some more food and noticed a bowl of energy gel packs on the camping table. I despise energy gels, but I needed to get my energy levels up so I forced myself to stomach a couple of packs of the disgusting berry flavored sludge. The final check point at No Hands Bridge was just over four miles away. From there, it was just four and a half miles to the finish line at Overlook Park in Auburn. "You can finish this" I said to myself. "Just four miles, then you can refuel again at No Hands Bridge, then it's just four and a half more miles until you're done". After refueling a final time with watermelon, chips, and pickles, I crossed No Hands Bridge and began chasing the finish line. Despite gobbling down salt tablets, drinking plenty of fluids, and eating high energy foods, I was still exhausted and now my legs were beginning to cramp on the downhills. When I hit the twenty-nine mile mark, I couldn't run at all anymore. If I worked up the energy to try, my legs would immediately cramp. My mind wanted to run but my body said "No friggin' way". So I let my body have it's way and I walked. I walked until I heard footsteps approaching behind me. I turned to see a blonde woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties slowly closing in on me. "Hey, nice job" I called out as she approached. I thought she was going to blow right by me just like several other people had, but instead she slowed and walked with me. She had been suffering all day from IT band issues and was having a tough go at the race, but she was determined to finish. I told her about how hard of a day I was having as well and we traded words of encouragement as we walked along. She introduced herself as Beth, and she was a local who ran on these trials somewhat regularly. I didn't want to run for fear of cramping but, with a mile left to go, we started to pick up the pace. What I did resembled more of a duck waddle than running, but at least I wasn't walking. And if I were walking, at least I was moving forward. Mind over body every time. The final stretch was a savage uphill to Overlook Park, but we powered through, and soon enough, we could hear the music and announcements over the PA at the finish line party at the top of the hill. People cheered me on, and the finish line came into view as I ran along one final bend in the trail. Running through the finish line, I hooted and hollered as I threw my arms in the air. I had finished in just over seven hours, right in the middle of the pack. Beth crossed the finish line about thirty seconds later. Just as she did, she began crying tears of joy and her friends rushed over to her for a group hug. I walked over and gave her a high five and we thanked each other for keeping each other company during the last couple miles of the race.
The course was beautiful and the fall colors made the scenery all the more vibrant, but it was one of the most grueling finishes I had ever experienced. Sure, my time was decent, but for some reason, I just could not get my energy levels up that day. But, as is the case of anyone who pursues their passion, runners sometimes have off days. I was happy that I finished, but I was more proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone and opening up to total strangers about my feelings of hopelessness and despair during the race. Some people are very good at it, but complaining doesn't come easy to me. I hate being a complainer, but sometimes it's necessary and it sure as hell is better than being dishonest with myself and others around me when I'm not feeling good. If I had swept everything under the rug and just told people I felt amazing, things would have gone from bad to worse. Releasing the negative energy from my mind through expressing true feelings is what got me through this race. Of course, I'd rather give off positive energy during in running events and I fully intend to keep doing so in the future, but I will also have no fear of letting out negative energy if I'm having a hard day. I never thought I'd say this, and it pains me even to type it because I hate it, but hooray for complaining!
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