New Chapters
Welcome back, and welcome new subscribers. A week from now, on March 29, I’m going to skip writing the regular free Wednesday post. It will be the first Wednesday break since I launched this Substack in fall of 2021. I’m taking a family trip and trying to enjoy a true vacation with my kids free from work and deadlines. I will, however, produce a bonus post sometime that weekend for paid subscribers. I’ll be back to a regular schedule in April. Thanks for your support!
On aging and being our own worst enemy
Everything went right with last Saturday’s run, until I got home.
I drove to Ridgway, 45 minutes away, and connected with my friend Christina who’s coming back from injury and just starting to run again. She shared the first two easy, flat miles with me, and our conversation flowed like the Uncompahgre River by our sides. Back at our cars, I shed a layer, then headed out for more miles solo on a favorite backroad, the snow-covered mountains framing Ouray to the south.
I ran smoothly, my upper right hamstring “behaving,” not protesting with tightness. Even my bad left knee with worn-away cartilage felt nimble. I transitioned from the undulating dirt road next to ranch land and picked up the paved bike path along the highway, grateful for an ice- and snow-free surface for a change.
It had been one week since I ran the Antelope Canyon 50. I deliberately gave myself a restful week with dog walks, one steep hike, and a ski day in lieu of much running. I promised myself I’d take a few weeks easy post-Antelope Canyon ultra for recovery and travel, because my legs and mind need a break from structured training and long runs. Then I’ll get back to higher-volume training after our trip.
Therefore, I felt fine about stopping when I hit 10 miles. Ten fairly slow miles, which took about an hour and 45 minutes, were plenty. I felt great, and I could have gone longer. But I was sticking to my “less is more” recovery plan. The problem came later at home when I logged onto Strava to upload my run and to see friends’ runs on the activity dashboard.
As those of you who’ve followed me since new year’s know, I got on Strava on January 1 after resisting it for more than a decade. I always kept my training log private and didn’t want to waste time on yet another social media platform or get caught in the comparison trap by viewing others on Strava.
Until that day, it worked. I enjoy scrolling Strava to see what friends are doing and to interact with them. Suddenly, however, I felt shitty and inadequate about the morning run that had felt so good and right. I saw that several young local runners have been crushing ultras with hardly any recovery between them, like racing Black Canyon followed by Way Too Cool, with speed sessions in between. I saw that my California running friends had logged long runs in the 20+ mile range. Even the woman I buddied up with at Antelope Canyon (as described in last week’s post) had logged a bunch of miles in the past week.
I know objectively this comparison is ridiculous, but it got to me nonetheless. I had to put on my wise coaching hat and give myself a talking to, telling myself not to give two fucks let alone a single f about what others do and how they train.
“Recovery is part of training” is a coaching principle I’ve long preached. I know that my older body needs more recovery following depleting long runs and ultras, and I run better after taking an easy week. So why the comparison?
Last Saturday, I was dwelling on aging more than usual, which likely fed into my insecurities. My daughter celebrated her 25th birthday. I went down memory lane remembering 20 years ago, when she was 5 and my son Kyle turned 2, as seen in this Instagram post (if you click through to see the photos, the second one is probably my favorite, capturing the joy of a family night out and the hilarity of my toddler son).
I did not reveal in that post that the mental time-travel to 2003 also made me consider my running that year. 2003, when I turned 34, marks the year I became significantly more competitive and serious with running and began to dabble in trail racing. I got my 5Ks under 20 minutes and ran and won my first trail race, a tough and technical half marathon that had a steep climb halfway up Mount Diablo. The following spring, I got my 10K under :40 and half marathon under 1:30. I ran like I was possessed. I can’t fathom running those times now.
I dug out my old handwritten log (the kind Runner’s World used to print and sell) from that year and flipped to the page where I recorded races.
Those years of parenting my preschool-aged kids and becoming a serious runner involved a lot of joy and accomplishment. But, 2003 also marks a year of self-destruction. I started drinking too much and not eating enough (that running log notes a lot of “detox hangover runs”). I became illicitly involved with a male runner in our running group and nearly destroyed my marriage. I’m sure a lot of my behavior had to do with the struggles many young mothers feel after they shelve or shrink their career aspirations for the sake of parenting, and their ego craves validation and attention in other ways.
The following year, I had to change everything to heal my marriage and myself. I found an editing job with a book publisher and went back to work full time (until the stress of commuting and being so nanny-dependent prompted me to return to part-time freelancing two years later). I made a clean break from the manipulative person who charmed my pants off, and in the process broke up with my whole running group. My husband and I embarked on intense couples therapy for several years that changed us both for the better.
And in a move that would shape me more than I realized at the time, I started running trails much more than roads, in search of a different running scene. That’s really how, when, and why I became a devoted trail runner—the trails were more forgiving than the roads, because the challenging, variable terrain in nature forced me to run slower and care less about pace. They gave me a place to cry and daydream. They presented new opportunities and routes, and running them, I matured into a better version of myself.
All of that went through my head last Saturday as I pondered the 20-year time frame and aging. It helped me gain perspective on my 10-mile slower Saturday run and to let go of the knee-jerk negative feelings I experienced when scrolling Strava.
Here I am 20 years later, in my 50s, and I’m still running. I’m healthy and strong. My marriage and family are even stronger. I like this version of myself a lot more than the 2003 woman who won races.
But oh, how I do miss some aspects of those times with my adorable little kids, when I could lift each in my strong arms, carry them on my hips, and smoosh them into my embrace. Yet I know their adult versions are even more fun, and I feel so fortunate to spend this coming weekend with them.
This new chapter
As you age and hit midlife, you realize that life has many chapters, and you find yourself doing things that the younger version of yourself never could have predicted. My grandfather is a perfect example. He held so many jobs—from miner, cowboy, stockyard worker, ranch manager, and ad salesman in the Depression, to teacher, renowned author, and track and field coach. His first two wives died from illness, and at age 80 he married the third love of his life who gave him 13 happy, satisfying years together before he died peacefully of old age.
I bring this up because a year ago, I started something I never expected or planned to do. I ended my coaching business after nearly nine years and began working part time as a substitute teacher in our local school district, as described in this post where I compare/contrast teaching to ultrarunning.
I made the change because I felt burned out with the coaching work and isolated while working independently. As an empty-nester, I missed interacting with kids and teens. Our public school district has a chronic, dire need for subs, due to the job’s low pay and the regional housing shortage. I have housing and am less reliant on the income, so I thought, why not me? I was nervous, but I gave it a try.
Last Monday, as I worked in the high school, I thought about what a satisfying and interesting job it has been this past year, and how my confidence has grown. I love the challenge and variety. I teach all levels, K - 12, depending on the jobs available during the week. I gravitate toward teaching Spanish in the middle and high school, and the “dual-immersion” (bilingual) classes in the elementary and intermediate schools, because I enjoy using and improving my Spanish.
In a typical week, for example, I might lead a class of 16 second-graders, roughly half of whom are English language-learners, handling all their lessons and doing playground duty with barely any break in the day. Or I might have an easier assignment such as filling in for the K - 3 music teacher, which might involve playing music videos and teaching them how to sing songs such as Jimmy Cliff’s “I Can See Clearly Now.” (With only the children watching and mimicking me, I cut loose singing and dancing in the front of the classroom as a YouTube video displayed the lyrics and played the music.)
At the middle and high school, I might sub for the social studies or English teachers as well as the Spanish teacher (I avoid math and science subbing, since I feel less confident with those subjects). It feels immensely satisfying to stand in front of 20 sophomores, for example, who are assigned to read Jeanette Walls’ The Glass Castle, which I loved, and to realize I can truly help them with the assignment, which involved writing a letter to the protagonist’s father in the protagonist’s voice. I do the assignment alongside them and share my example to encourage them to share theirs. For the most part, the students give me their attention and respect. I think it’s because they sense that I want to be there and that I care.
Some of the traits I’ve cultivated through ultrarunning—including adaptability, flexibility, and being fully present in the mile I’m in—fortify me as a teacher. I don’t know what to expect when I walk into the school at 7:50 a.m. But I can meet the challenge and, most of the time, have fun in the process.
Last Monday, I subbed as a paraprofessional, which involves working one on one with special-needs students who are mainstreamed into regular classes. I found myself with a junior who’s on the autism spectrum and highly sensitive, but generally sweet and good natured. We were in his digital music class, and he wanted to edit a piece he’s composing on his laptop. But a glitch in the software torpedoed his project. He was on the verge of freaking out with frustration, and the overworked music teacher couldn’t take time to fix it because he was simultaneously teaching a guitar class.
I had to think and act fast. The student had told me with endearing candor when we first said hello that he wore his hoodie because he wants to dress like and be a rapper. So I said, “Let’s rap instead.”
He looked at me skeptically. I explained that I have this favorite song that helps me get through ultramarathons. (He didn’t know what an ultramarathon is, so I explained.) I called up a YouTube video of Enimen’s “Lose Yourself” and told him to watch it with me, which he did, entranced. Then we found the lyrics, and I asked him to read them aloud, which he did, uninhibited by his speech impediment. He became increasingly animated, saying, “I’m gonna use that, but change it like this,” and his fingers started pounding out lines on his keyboard—occasionally taking a break to tap a rhythm on his thigh—followed by more typing. As I watched him utterly absorbed in this project, ignoring the bell indicating that the class was over, I had the feeling of a win.
I shared all that to encourage you to open yourself to new possibilities and opportunities you might not have considered. It’s also a reminder to develop interests outside of running, to be more than just a runner.
Some updates and recommendations
I’ll end by noting a few things I’m working on and recommend.
Nutrition: I had a consultation with Meredith Terranova, a sports nutritionist and endurance athlete I worked with back in 2016. She’s helping me troubleshoot my nausea in extra-long ultras and the high inflammation and stiffness I experience on any long run (which I suspect is related to or aggravated by menopause). I’ll be working to reduce simple sugars and carbs (but not complex, nutrient-rich carbs) in everyday eating, and working on mid-ultra fueling options, using sugar more strategically in between real food. I’ll have more to write about this later. I’d like to know in the comments below if you’ve had success with an anti-inflammatory diet and if so, how.
Sleep: After listening to a radio show with this sleep expert, I’m more committed than ever to practice good bedtime rituals to help me sleep through the night (insomnia also is related to and aggravated by menopause). In particular, I’m trying to eat a slightly lighter dinner (with a heartier lunch), so I have less to digest at bedtime, and wind down earlier in the night with yoga and reading. I am still waking during the night, but if I can’t get back to sleep, I am disciplined about not reaching for my phone; instead, I get out of bed and read a book in the living room (so I don’t lie in bed stressed out about not sleeping), then return to bed when I’m sleepy again. It’s helping!
I was interviewed for a parenting-advice article on the Freetrail platform, called “Ultra(mom)running.” It’s full of good parenting advice from several moms. The article shows one of my happiest photos, of my daughter Colly and son Kyle finishing the High Lonesome 100 with me. Parents of young kids, you can look forward to your kids being old enough to pace/crew you!
I was very moved by this piece on UltraSignup’s newsletter about a highly accomplished ultrarunner I’ve known through social media for many years and have crossed paths with at ultras, Jess Mullen. Jess opens up about past addiction and her current challenge of osteoporosis. It’s a powerful reminder that (a) you never know what someone might be going through, and (b) take care of your health—women, especially, your bones—now. Female bodies need enough calories and stored fat to menstruate regularly. If you lose your period for months or years, you likely are compromising your bone health. Learn about RED-S syndrome and how to prevent it. You also need strength training and calcium to preserve bone health. An octogenarian woman I’m close to and admire is now wheelchair-bound due to brittle bones and multiple fractures, which makes me resolved to preserve good mobility as long as I can.
My latest column for UltraRunning is on DIY coaching. Coincidentally, after hiring a coach for three months, I changed my mind and decided to return to self-coaching. She’s a very good coach, but didn’t feel I had a great deal to learn or benefit from her coaching, and I missed the intellectual challenge and autonomy of coaching myself. Now I’m back to designing my weekly and long-range training plans and saving the money.
Thanks for reading, and happy spring! A full-on blizzard is gusting outside my window. I am eager for green grass and more sunshine.
Wow Sarah, your honesty and vulnerability are so refreshing. I can relate to so much about what you write and really appreciate your blogs. And I have a love/hate relationship with Strava too but my run group uses it to organize runs.
Love all that you wrote here. A certain comparison anxiety and then, you turned around and found something so much more valuable to care about. The other disappears.