Ain't no Mountain High Enough (?)
BIG BEAR RECAP
Again, procrastinating at work and wondering how long I can go on in this corporate slog without losing my mind. The windows of the blinds eerily look like bars… sometimes birds fly high up the building I’m in and I wonder what adventures they have in store fpr tpdau.
Lately, I can’t shake this gnawing feeling of change. I desire change! I desire slowness, which seems so antithetical to racing, when it’s about going as fast as I can to enter a flow state of no thoughts. I read Wintering last year, and it fundamentally changed my perspective on seasonality. I’m not talking about being conscientious of the fruits that are in season (apples, pears, and hopefully persimmons soon lol). I’m talking about how we, as humans, should also mimic our day-to-day rhythms to the natural world—to lean into the fall and winter seasons as a way to rest, reflect and “bulk up,” figuratively (or maybe literally?) for the winter.
I want to think and relish in the slow hum of fall and winter.
A couple of weeks ago, I raced Kodiak 100K, and unfortunately, I DNF’d, which in racing terms means “Did Not Finish.” I was telling Jemma about this acronym, and she instantly knew what it was because of her familiarity with F1 racing. “Rosa, you don’t need to explain the acronym! I know what it means.”
I’m not sure how familiar y’all are with this project, but Hannah Wholenberg, the manager of the Renegade Store in LA (and just the most delightful and passionate visionary human), spearheaded the Renegade Women Trail Racing program in coordination with Corinne Malcolm, a HOKA consultant and huge advocate for women’s representation on trails. She also has a podcast called Trail Society.
This project essentially sponsored 31 women from both Oakland and Los Angeles to race through the mountains of Big Bear. The support was beyond our wildest dreams. Each location had two coaches and two community managers, and we got a training plan, gear, nutrition and strength training support, and opportunities for community runs and retreats. Bibs were paid for, lodging was paid for, all we had to do was show up. For so many of the women venturing into this world of trail running, it was a profound way to get their foot in the door.
Brands, capitalism, you know, the usual musings, etc., etc.—but y’all… the spirit of the race was deeply rooted in community and the curiosity of what it means to do our best without destroying ourselves. As road racing or run clubs often emphasize, there’s this ethos of “PR or ER” or “Pain is temporary but glory is forever.” Having a group of women who actively reimagined a different type of racing strategy was refreshing, despite my own personal result in this race.
I’m not one to mince words, but this race was possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The long and short of it: I stopped taking fuel at mile 30. I was running with Ariana, and we were locked in step. Like clockwork, I opened my gel, and as soon as the sugary goo hit my teeth, I felt a shock of piercing pain. I spat it out immediately and knew something was seriously wrong. I tried a couple more times, but the pain was unbearable. I brushed it off and decided to see how far my body could go.
At mile 33, I told Ariana, “I’m starting to bonk, please go without me.”
She replied, “No, Rosa, we’re going to finish this race together.”
Sadly, I couldn’t digest any more fuel, and it was a fight for the next mile. The number of times I stopped to cry and take a deep breath, the number of times I fought exhaustion and the desire to pass out, I just had to make it to the next aid station. Many phone calls, pep talks, and spiritual rock bottoms later, I got to mile 47, had a clarifying talk with the medic, and called it. Not only that, but my warm clothes, headlamp, my cold & night gear was another 8 miles away, and the moon was already up at this point.
The decision was actually… easy. My body had nothing left, and I wasn’t interested in continuing to run on empty for the satisfaction of a finishing result. The older I get, the less interested I am in cannibalizing my body. Y’all, I ran 17 more miles with nothing but vegetable broth and some Skratch chew gels I sadly deep-throated to power through (unsuccessfully, to say the least).
I had gotten my teeth cleaned the week before, and apparently pounding your mouth with sugary things continuously after a cleaning will absolutely wreck your teeth. The medic told me this is common and that we should not get a cleaning right before an ultramarathon.
Steve Magness wrote about the differences between tolerating pain, suffering, and performing, and it deeply resonated with me as I reflected on the toughest part of the race:
“It’s important to develop a wide range of tools to help us work through any number of challenging situations we might face as athletes or in other areas of life where we’re trying to perform at a high level. Sometimes you’ve got to push through, other times you need to let go, or on occasion you might need to pivot and go in an entirely different direction. Toughness is about trying to create space so you can take the right action. It’s a decision-making process. Tolerance or thinking that toughness is solely about suffering can move us away from making the right decision.”
Rosa Petty Corner:
The maddening thing about the 100K course is that three-quarters of the vertical gain and the most technical aspects are in the first half. Once you cross the halfway mark, it’s a joyride to the finish. That was the slightly annoying part, like if only I had the energy to finish! But I’m at peace with it. Kinda. 👺
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I’m so happy to say that because of my decision, I have no lingering injuries, pains, or even little aches!
My intention from here on out is to really re-evaluate how I want to show up in this sport. How can I channel my evolving curiosity and relationship with it, not through the demanding asks of a training cycle, but through other ways. The programming aspect of Kodiak felt electric and empowering. Working with other incredibly passionate and capable women was like a fantasy that comes up too often in my day job lol. These past five months reignited the rusty gears of my college event-planning days. Maybe I can find a career that combines these sparks and elements.
Highlights that I will forever carry in my heart:
Tia, sitting with me in silence and using her energy to bring me cups of broth on top of Ski Summit. She believed in me even when I wanted to DNF. She somehow helped me navigate the hurt for 10 more miles, and I will never forget her selflessness and heart.
Emily, seeing her and Anthony at Sugarloaf was an injection of joy and adrenaline! It always makes me laugh whenever we see our friends on an ultra course—like, “Hey guys! What’s up!” But seeing Emily felt like a blanket of comfort and warmth, especially after the gnarliest climb of the course. Thank you to Emily and Anthony for being the first people I saw after I got out of the DNF truck. Thank you, Em, for coming all the way out to Big Bear and driving back to LA the same day. The way you show up for the people you love is something I learn from every day.
Thank you, Anthony, for capturing the hard moments, the beautiful moments, and the moments where no words were even needed. For folding Haven’s clothes and making sure she had everything she needed to feel comforted when she woke up (here’s this beautiful video he made of the weekend)
Chicago friends—Yuri, Duy, Carol, Sabrina, Oscar, Ryan, Kevin, and the list goes on. You guys were supposed to be asleep, but somehow you told me I could do it.
Horacio, for staying on the call with me and showering me with love as I ugly sobbed on the phone. For making sure I was okay after I DNF’d.
Sofia, Cindy, Hannah, and Dani (who was running her own damn race!) for telling me via Satellite message that they were proud of me and that they’d support whatever decision was right for me.
And to all the friends who checked in with me afterward to make sure I was doing okay, thank you!
This community is filled with so much love, and it’s not lost on me how precious that is. I leave this experience feeling even more inspired and reinvigorated to approach the next challenge with the same level of grace and clarity that Kodiak allowed me to experience. I’m so proud of all my friends, I learn from your own changing relationships with this sport always!
Running-schedule-wise… I transferred my CIM bib, and instead, I’m running a cute little half in San Diego (and seeing Charisse next month!). Boston is my next big race, my first Boston, and I hope I can PR. I want to break 2:50 one day! Maybe I’ll do another silly little relay in March as I figure out what that looks like. Haven and I roomed together, and though we both weren’t able to finish, we’ll be back (2027), once we recover (mind and body, lol).
But now it’s time for a little rest. I’m going to cook myself something yummy tonight, go to Universal Studios next month, hang out with my niece on Halloween, and maybe paint some more.
Now a trip down memory lane!
~ it’s about the journey not the destination ✨
Your life is exquisite 🙂↕️