This past weekend, The Skid Row Running Club held their annual Los Angeles River Ultra Run. This 52 (!) mile run goes through the entirety of the Los Angeles River, from Canoga Park all the way to Long Beach Harbor. Traversing, rather sludging, through the water in some spots is necessary to get to the next point and you’re basically running in places most others don’t, or perhaps can’t. It’s a daunting, but beautiful run that gives you access to Los Angeles from a whole new perspective. This is one of those events that when you tell someone you're doing it their eyes bug out of their head and they ask if you are OK because it seems like an impossible task, especially for non runners.
I did it 3 years ago and it was one of those life events that no matter what, I’ll never forget. Being on your feet for more than 12 hours isn’t easy, but it forces you to be present. Nowadays, our attention is held hostage by our phones, so to be in a situation for that long in which you don’t have the need to scroll or check alerts is a godsend. It really allows one to feel their feet, to smell the (kinda nasty) air or to just float with thoughts that, again, force you to be in the moment. Each moment of that run has a memory for me because of the lack of distractions. It was just me with the other runners traversing the entirety of the city I love.
What’s interesting is that these memories are with me daily and in fact, as I am dictating this into my phone while driving on the 710 freeway toward Long Beach for a gig, I am IMMEDIATELY pulled into the moments from this ultra. Every time I am on the 710 freeway (from the 105 freeway to the harbor) I recall, as I was in tremendous pain and exhaustion, how I would use the freeways as signposts for how much longer I had to go. For example, I know once we pass the 105 that the 91 and the 405 are next and once I get to the 405, it’s smooth sailing… I know… This is like a Californians sketch, but I digress…. And no, we were not on the freeway, but the bike path, which runs parallel.
These vivid memories hold space in my brain for a few reasons, I think. Aside from lack of distractions and living in the moment, this was my first ultra, so the excitement and fear of doing something new and hard is something that can stick with you. It was a first time event for me and most first time events (kiss, gig, sex, etc) are usually unforgettable.
The third thing that stuck with me was how much support and love was given to the runners. A handful of volunteers spent their ENTIRE day pulling up at rest stops to feed us, give us vaseline, water and moral support. The aid stations, all DIY mind you, were as sufficient as anything you’d see at a for profit race. Without that support, most runners, perhaps even myself, would have given up. Once you're in a situation where you are supported by lovely people running alongside others who are suffering with you it feels less like suffering and just more like a profound way to push yourself out of your shell and do something that you wouldn't otherwise have done without that support and love. This past weekend, the runners hit temperatures of over 100 degrees in the uncovered concrete bike paths, and the aid stations were on full alert with ice buckets and enough love to get the runners through the tortuous weather. I was worried and checked the group WhatsApp occasionally, as I was unable to be there. It was hard for me 3 years ago, but I’m sure pales in comparison to the situation this year, so I am so happy and proud of them.
That feeling of succumbing to something new can be unpleasant, but if you’re living entirely in the moment and letting your body work its hardest, you start to understand why Ultra Runners, or other extreme types of hobbyists, want to continue to chase that high. When I did it, I felt rejuvenated. I was tired and sore, sure, but it was a good tired, like I accomplished something and wasn’t passive about it. I worked really hard and it felt great. It makes sense why my mind goes to that place when I see or am reminded of it, because it was special. Will I do it again? I would love, to but I can get in my head and worry about the heat and other variables including the fact that I have been injured and haven't been able to run much in the last month. But these are just excuses. I saw people in their 50s and 60s, or people who don't really run very often, pull this off with a smile on their face and no need to brag or boast. They just did it. If that's not inspiring I don't know what is.
I guess I am trying to impart the idea of trying the hard stuff and to think outside the box and push yourself beyond your boundaries because you never know what you might find within yourself. If nothing else, you'll at least get a nice warm feeling in your stomach when you drive on the 710 freeway like I do.
To quote one of the participants, sometimes you just have to “...do the HARD stuff.”
That's all for this week. It's been busy here, but I hope everyone's happy, healthy and safe. Till next time…
SHOWS:
I’m playing with Roman’s Weirdos on Sunday September 15 at Lodge Room in Highland Park with The Zeros ‘77. If you’re a 70’s punk head, come out!
Very inspiring!