Have you ever heard an idea that sounded so preposterous that you dismissed it outright?

But then it gnawed at you.

And little by little it went from being the most ridiculous thing you’d ever considered to something that a tiny voice inside you whispered, “Actually, I think that’s kind of amazing!”

That’s what I’m talking about: conquering the scariest goal you can think of!

The Scariest Goal

When my dad first told me about the Comrades Marathon in South Africa, I was less than ten years old.  A former winner of the world’s oldest and largest ultramarathon was in town for a race, and my dad invited him to our home to talk running.

Fast forward more than thirty years.

My dad called me and announced he had decided to run Comrades.  I wasn’t surprised—my dad has always been in love with running ultramarathons. The reality, however, was that he was nearing 70 years old. A 55+ mile road race over ridiculously hilly terrain is a remarkable challenge regardless of age.

I told him I was excited for him to chase his dream, and I hung up.

Contemplation

The conversation and my dad’s enthusiasm never left my head.  For a few days, I thought of all the ways I could tell him that I thought this undertaking was not a good choice.  He had a bad hip. His running mileage was pretty low. He hadn’t run more than a half-marathon in several years. The travel alone to South Africa from his home in Texas would take a toll on his body.

But then I remembered that I will never ever change my dad’s mind.

So I said nothing.

And then I remembered what a great experience it was to run the Boston Marathon with my dad in 1999.  Running has always been our common language. It is our shared passion, like a lifelong mutual friend we trust. I am grateful to him for passing on his love for the sport.

About ten days after our initial phone call, I sent my dad an email that said, “If you’re in, I’m in.”  I took a deep breath and pressed send.

Commitment

I knew that if I was going to run Comrades, I had to be committed to the goal.  The idea of running nearly twice as far as I’d ever run before scared me.  And then I saw the course profile—there is not a single flat section in the entire route.

What had I gotten myself into?

The mental commitment needed to be 100%.  Barring significant injury, I would dedicate myself to eleven months of high-level training.  Quitting was not an option.

More importantly, I needed my husband on board.  Achieving my goal required blocking chunks of time out of my life to do the training which would put more of the logistics for wrangling our three kids on my husband’s plate.

It is also a significant financial undertaking to fly halfway around the world to run a race.  Fortunately, my husband knows my resolve and supports my crazy dreams.

Plan

Although I had experience running marathons (and even two 50KM ultramarathons), stepping up to 90KM required a new type of planning.  I got cozy with my calendar, blocking out training time.  I divided the year leading up to the race into two parts, the first so I could focus on a qualifying marathon and the second on a ramp up for Comrades.

Thankfully I have a group of friends with ultrarunning experience to help me plan my training calendar.  I joined Facebook groups, read blogs, and reached out to those who had run Comrades before.  Hearing their stories and evaluating their training protocols helped me choose an initial training strategy.

I picked several marathons and 50Ks to run as supported training runs.  I plugged those into my calendar and started filling in the necessary workouts that would build my endurance.

Support

My husband remained a silent but sure supporter.  He never grumbled about my needing to shift family schedules around or the hangriness I’d exhibit after long runs.  That said, he had no interest in hearing all that much about each and every run.

My dad and I trained together as much as we could despite living 200 miles apart.  We had near daily phone calls to rehash our runs and to set our strategy for an upcoming race or phase of training.

My friends were curious, but it was clear they thought I was crazy.

Do The Work

When the goal is to run more than 55 miles, there are no shortcuts.  Day after day, week after week, month after month, training for Comrades generated a tremendous amount of cumulative fatigue.

But to show up at the start line healthy and ready to run required putting in the time and logging the miles.

I planned to run just four days per week, but each day was an effort of at least two hours.  It was like doing four half-marathons (or longer!) every week for five months.

One step at a time. That was, quite literally, the only way to achieve this goal.

Adapt

Nothing ever goes perfectly to plan.  Some weeks were like calendar Jenga, moving blocks of time around to make everything fit.  I still had clients to coach, kids to love and feed and drive, and a husband and friends who still enjoyed my company. On a regular basis, my carefully planned life would fall apart, and I’d begin the rearranging process again.

And if for some reason a run got completely cancelled, I needed to forgive myself, pull back and look at the big picture, and move on.

There were two different days my dad and I had to scrap our plans for hilly 15 milers due to thunderstorms. We ran instead on an indoor track that is 13 laps to the mile. (I’ll do the math for you—that was 195 laps to complete each run).

In the middle of my final long run—a planned 40 miler—I tripped and fell hard onto the road.  And then a thunderstorm rolled in, causing me to cut my run short at 32 miles.  There wasn’t anything I could do but accept it and trust that those missing eight miles weren’t essential.

The lesson? Flexibility breeds mental fortitude.

Seek Help

I made friends with my foam roller, epsom salt baths, and ice pack. There was also a significant uptick in how much body lube I needed to get through my runs unchafed. But I needed more help to keep myself in good working order.

Putting my body through the stress of training for Comrades required professional support.  I received massage every other week.  Appointments with a sports chiropractor happened every three months.  I needed my body to be strong and resilient.

Times when I needed moral support were few and far between, but when I was down I was way, way down.  I needed to be reminded of my WHY.  Friends were quick to tell me how impressed they were with my perseverance.  Their support buoyed me.

Friends were also pressed into regular action as logistical support specialists.  As someone who is not good at asking for help, I was humbled by the offers of carpools and playdates as a way to support my goal.

Knowing that I had a team of people who felt invested in my success was a powerful motivator.

Trust the Training

When race day arrived and I was swimming in a sea of anxiety, I repeated the mantra trust the training.  I knew I had done the work.  I knew how much everyone had sacrificed to give me the opportunity to attempt this crazy goal.  The faces of my family and friends filled my mind and gave me strength.

As the peaks and valleys of the race unfolded and I doubted myself, I went back to the mantra: trust the training.

At that point, there was no other option.

Enjoy the Journey

The unofficial slogan of Comrades was repeated to me by hundreds of runners all day long: Enjoy the journey!

Because all of my fellow runners had undergone the same grueling training as I did, they knew how much was at stake.  But never did that bubble up as a source of pressure.  Instead, they chose to focus on the positive and enjoy the journey as our 20,000 person-strong mass of humanity ran with towards our common goal.

The race itself reflected the months of work that got me to the starting line: with relentless forward motion, putting one foot in front of the other repeatedly, and knowing that quitting was not an option, I crossed the finish line and achieved the scariest goal I’ve ever set.