I ran some ultra-marathons, and it was the best self care I could imagine
In 2015, I was way out of my league, job wise. I’d been super fortunate to join a Boston-based startup, Talla, as the third hire, and I was drinking from the fire hose. We were still figuring out the product at that point, but it was a software company using artificial intelligence to help employees with a pieces of their jobs. Now, I knew nothing about artificial intelligence, how software companies functioned, or what going to market with something new was, exactly. I was pretty green, but I really wanted to learn and excel, and I loved the growth and resulting increased impact I was able to have.
I also signed up for my first marathon. If I wanted to keep leveling up in my life, feeling like I’d been a late bloomer in middle and high school, I had to push it elsewhere too. I was energized by seeing more upside in my professional and personal life than I would have categorized possible in myself while growing up: I hadn’t been a star student, or a cool kid, or a super talented athlete. In other words, I didn’t think I’d do cool shit, or be a very cool as a person, but maaaaybe I’d been wrong because I was starting to be more legit at work and in life. (Side note 1: Not that I was some big baller, but … And side note 2: I actually think being uncool makes you more introspective growing up, and am huge on being uncool.)
Going into this first marathon, I’d talked to lots of people who’d run one (or many) and it was incredibly daunting. I’d been injured, only really been doing my long runs the last few key weeks, and was unsure I could actually do it. I expected to suffer a lot, maybe not even finish. I listened to the people who told me running a marathon was terrible, and they thought they’d die, especially the last 6 miles. So, with that in mind, every mile from the starting line on that I wasn’t suffering, I was pleasantly surprised. Eventually, I finished the race and could not believe that I, Brooke Torres, a reformed baby and late bloomer, had run a marathon.
Later, I read the book How Bad to You Want It (Matt Fitzgerald) which talks about the psychology of performance and nicely summarizes that expecting to suffer is actually a very effective way of preparing for something hard. People who go into a race (or life event for that matter) expecting it to be easy are quickly disappointed by hurdles they encounter.
After my first road marathon, I wanted to know what more I could do, so I signed up for a 6-hour trail ultra-marathon, and then a month after that, one of the toughest trail marathons in the country. Generally, I believe exposing yourself to other people’s stories and ways of thinking is a solid way to expand your worldview, and I’d been curiously reading about people who ran ultras for a bit. (By the way, ultras = technically anything after marathon distance, but typically “entry level” is 50k or 31 miles. The real difference though is that they are more often trail races, with elevation change, technical trails, can have water crossings, etc).
So, I ran those races, and more, and I’m not exaggerating when I say those experiences have changed every day of my life since.
The thing is, we are all going to suffer at various points. Sometimes, it’s going to be out of our control. Someone we love is going to be hurt. We lose people. We have health scares, and pain and uncertainty. Someone might break your heart. You might have financial issues. Your foundation can be shaken in any number of ways.
For me, ultras and trail running gave me the mental toolkit to make it through hard times. To know that there would be light at the end of the tunnel. And actually physically raised my bar for what pain is, to the point where I’m unbothered by plenty of things that would have otherwise irritated me all day. Plus, when you’re busy, and you need to perform (at work, or in a race, or showing up for a friend) even thinking about how you are suffering is a distraction. So it’d freed me mentally to focus on more of what’s critical, and triage and ignore things that are secondary or beyond.
There’s a lot of media focus right now on self care as taking time to relax with face masks and bubble baths. And you get it! You do those things! But, I believe the biggest acts of self care are figuring out where to push yourself to grow, or to open up new opportunities. Sometimes, pushing yourself to grow is painful. You suffer. You’re uncomfortable or you feel stupid. You don’t enjoy it. But on the other side, you’ve learned something, you’re better, smarter, have a new way of thinking about things.
I am not a fast runner. I’m a mid-pack runner at road races, and often back of the pack in trail racing longer distances. The first trail marathon I ran, I finished almost dead last in 11 hours (and one minute). The race had 9000 feet of elevation gain, including hand over foot climbing. I fully submerged my feet and shoes in mud. I got lost, forgot to eat and drink (you eat food in longer races) and because I was so distraught and mentally foggy, I ran ~3 extra mountainous miles by accident. When I showed up to that race, I was honestly very embarrassed because I was looking around at everyone else’s gear and knew I was in a different category. I knew I didn’t belong and wondered how I had the audacity to be there.
But winning is relative. I was bumping up against the clock of not officially finishing (even though I’d have to finish anyway, because there was no way to be pulled out of the race logistically), lost in the woods, physically beat up and not having a very good time. I called my parents somewhere around mile 25 sobbing and told them I wouldn’t finish because I was too close to the cutoff, and I’d been lost for a long time. I’d come that far (about 10 hours into racing). No one at that race would call me a winner (even though, ultrarunning as a sport is very repectful to back of the pack runners, and I find, full of awesome people). But for me, that day was a win for the rest of my life.
Now, to step back, people run much harder races than that. This isn’t the Badwater 135 in Death Valley, or the Barkley Marathons. Tougher days can be had. You can be injured or hospitalized or pulled from a race or worse.
The idea is the same though: doing something hard, something you didn’t know if you could do, pushing through the pain can be one of the most empowering things you can do. I really believe that.
For me, ultras have raised my bar for what hard work is, yet lowered the mental and physical fatigue that comes with hard work. They’ve made me less afraid, more resilient, more mature. It’s improved how I approach hard situations in life and in work, decreased my stress levels because things seem like less of a big deal. I have better relationships.
About a year after my first ultra, I hit a tough personal time. My mom (who is really my best friend, who I call too many times a day—apologies but I can’t stop) had an unexpected heart attack, needed quadruple bypass, and then was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was so afraid I’d lose her, and everything felt out of control. At the exact same time, I ended a 7+ year live-in realtionship. A work project I’d pulled many all-nighters on, poured a lot of company money into and traveled from Moscow to Dubai to San Fransico promoting it came to a different end than we expected. And newly single, back in the dating world for the first time, I was assaulted and felt pretty ashamed about it.
My friends and family were amazingly supportive during this time. And having pushed through hard races, hard training days, the uncertainty of a dark day in the woods, gave me a lot of strength. It also gave me perspective to be grateful for little, good things that happen. To think about how things could be worse. And, so importantly, to show up for people who needed me when I was tired and beat down too.
The day I ended my long term relationship, I got immediately in my car and drove to the woods to run. And like in a stupid movie, it poured rain while I ran. A former version of myself didn’t know how I could make it through splitting with the person I’d spent my entire adult life with, even with knowing it was the right path forward. But this post-ultra version of myself was more resilient than ever before. It was dark, but I knew I’d get through.
I don’t advocate that everyone should run ultramarathons. If that’s not your thing, don’t do it! Even though I will say, many people can IF they so choose (its not just for elite atheltes or tall people, etc). But I do think everyone should find something hard, whether its a ceramics class, or a triathlon, something that pushes them, maybe even when they want to relax. When something unexpected in your life happens, you don’t always have the luxury to chill. You have to get up, and help your partner who is sick, or make a long drive, or be at the hospital late, and then early again. You have to work late, then give a big presentation. And you want to bring your best self possible to those days.
My next “ultra” is actually starting a running company in the footwear space (and in racing, I also plan to run my first 50 miler in a few months). And I expect all this shit to be hard! I expect to suffer, and know that I won’t make all the right decisions, and have to deal with the consequences. I’ll deal with business problems and with people problems that are sad for them, and sad for me to see too. I also expect to build something that’s a value-add, that helps people find and accomplish something hard on their own, and hopefully, that changes the way people buy and think about running shoes. But I’ll share more updates about that soon. If at a high level this sounds like a mission you’d be into joining too, I’d love to chat.
