This past weekend was a two-faced monster I had to confront once again. Trying to compete at a high level in the sport of ultra running can be so confusing. I’ve been on what seems like the top of the world for brief moments, and I’ve been in the deepest darkest hole of self-doubt and frustration. It seems ridiculous that sport can cause such emotion and identity. I’m still collecting my thoughts and feelings from Javelina, where in one day, I went through basically everything I have felt throughout my running career.

Javelina Jundred. Golden Ticket race. I went into this race with some sort of confidence I haven’t experienced since the days of running track and eyeing the sub 4 min mile. My Fitness was incredible. I was healthy, happy, and most of all, hungry to find a spot back in the Western States 100. I started the race off incredibly comfortable, hanging out in the pack and seeing how things unfold for the first 20 miles. I came out of the aid station after the first loop in second place. Spend a good 8 miles running and chatting with Jacob Puzey. During that 8 miles, I noticed some serious pain coming from my achilles and heel. I thought maybe this was just some weird thing that would pass, but with each and every step, the pain worsened. I became so annoyed and let my emotions take over. I ran the last 8 miles of the second loop in a furry and pissed off, clicking off 6-6:30 miles telling myself just get to the aid station where my crew was and we can figure this out. Once I arrived, I sat down, and it sunk in how bad it was actually feeling. Knowing these things happen in races, I did my best to just take a minute, collect my thoughts, and try to come up with a solution. After sitting down for about 5 min, I got up and carried on. I got about 1/2 mile out of the aid station and turned back. I figured I would change my shoes and see if that made a difference. Changed shoes, and off I went again. The pain was worse. About 1/2 mile out of the aid station, I decided to stop and walk back to my crew tent and call it a day. On my walk back with my head down, I realized something that I think I’ve always known, but it really hit home more than ever…..

The trail community is the fucking best. While walking back to my crew tent, Dakota Jones, who was leading the men’s race, stopped and literally walked with me for a minute to make sure everything was ok. In what other sport does the eventual winner stop what he is doing and take time out of his cour record run to make sure I was ok?!? That half-mile walk back was incredible, not only Dakota but probably a dozen or so other runners and fans made sure to take the time to stop and check on me. I don’t know where I’m going with this other than the fact that it ignited something in me. I went from being pretty down and out and questioning everything I was doing to realizing that I could never compete again and I would still find a way to be involved in this incredible sport and around these amazing people.

There is a silver lining in most things. I’m looking at what most people would think of this being a “disaster of a day” to actually it is a moment of reflection. The pressure I’ve put on myself to run a certain way and win certain races at the end of the day doesn’t matter. It’s this community and all the love and support in it that makes all of this so special. So with that, I will continue on with my dream, knowing that whatever outcomes may be, there is greater meaning to it than earning a gadamn ticket painted in Gold.