Well it means you made some level of commitment, right? You just didn’t randomly go to the park and someone handed you this piece of paper with a number on it. You paid your race entry fee with your hard earned money, possibly bought a new piece of attire or gear for the race, and in most cases, put in some level of training so you finish without looking like a train wreck. It also means regardless of where you finish in the event you will for sure finish ahead of all of those who did not have the courage to sign up. It means I’m going to give this my best shot!
To the race organizers and volunteers, it is a way of identify you, either by way of a chip attached to the bib which is becoming more common or the old fashioned way of just visually reading your bib number. It’s a way to show support for those we don’t know—“looking good on those hills Number 89!” Surely all of us have heard something to that effect from a race supporter or volunteer at some point.
But there’s something else about the bib that has become more and more evident to me in the past year or two, and it’s what this post is the subject of. I’m borrowing the term “magic”, and I suppose I could have chosen some other more appropriate word, but magic is just what came to me and I am sticking with it because I truly feel that is what it can bring.
What I’m finding from this magic of the bib is the ability to perform beyond what I thought was possible. Right now I am focusing my running on the ultramarathon distance. Since hearing years ago of these races traveling long distances, I became intrigued by them and thought it would be so cool to say I completed one—to someday sit back and reflect on it when I’m much older and wonder how I ever did such a thing. I also liked the fact that many ultramarathons are run out on trails in the woods, which really appeals to my love of nature and the outdoors. I knew it would take quite awhile to get to the point of running beyond a marathon but that it would be worth it. Yes, it did take years to (safely) get my mileage built up and enter one of these events but I did it. It was mostly due to scheduling, but my first ultra that I entered was a 12 hour race—something I wouldn’t necessarily recommend but I felt it was just what would work for me. It was upon reflecting back on this event that I first felt this magic.
In that first ultra, my main goal was just to get in the 31 miles it would take to finally call myself an ultramarathoner. Since I had roughly covered that distance in my training and did it in less than 12 hours, I figured that 40 miles was likely possible since I know I can always do better in a race than on my own in training. It is that point though that is basically what this whole post is about—how you can do more in a race than in training, especially if your training is solo like most of mine is.
So I guess knowing that in races I tend to do better than training, the magic was already there but I just never gave it a lot of thought or paid much attention to it. But with the ultra, it started to become evident. My wild goal for that race, if everything went just right—my physical training, my stress level, the weather, my hydration, nutrition, was 50 miles. I felt that every single thing would have to be dialed in just perfect for me to achieve this and I’d probably finish it just under the 12 hour cutoff too.
It was an ambitious goal because my prior longest distance race was a marathon, so going nearly twice that distance, on trails nonetheless, would be no easy task.
The race went well. I actually had to tell myself to slow down early as I was completing loops of the course in times I didn’t feel like I should have been able to. But 31 miles came up on me somewhat quick and I remember thinking how at the end of my 7th five-mile loop, I finally get to say I did an ultra. But I kept going and I completed my next goal of 40 miles. What was intriguing though was the fact there was still plenty of hours left in the race. I kept going. Another lap and I was at 45 miles. When I completed that lap I told the race official I was heading back out again. I was tired and the sun was getting lower in the sky but I here I was with a chance to finish my ultimate goal of 50 miles—and perhaps even exceed it! Well I completed that 10th lap and when I crossed the start/finish line the lady asked me if I was going back out again. I had wrestled with this thought while completing my 10th lap what I would do should I make it back in time to head out again. I told her no, I was done. The clock read just a hair under 10 hours 45 minutes. I couldn’t believe it! Here I was at my very first ultra and I completed my ultimate goal with over an hour to spare.
That’s what I mean about the magic of the bib. I know there’s no way I could have ever done that on my own in some training run. I was sure everything had to just perfect for me to pull off 50 miles. For the most part a lot of things did go my way, the weather was nice, I felt stress free somehow, I felt I did as much as I could from a training perspective without overtraining. But I had some bumps in the road too. I went out a little to fast and my quads were hurt already about mile 20. Having a talk with myself and adjusting my running strategy helped to alleviate that issue. I also had my (older) Garmin GPS watch decide it didn’t want to turn on that day too—so I couldn’t monitor my pacing as closely as I like or monitor my heart rate either. I’m not used to that and was a quick adjustment I had to make.
But somehow I believe the magic started that day. When I got done with the race and it started to sink in that I just did 50 miles—I had the urge to cry. I didn’t understand how I met this goal relatively easily where I thought it would take perfection—and do it with time to spare! Part of me regretted not going for another lap, but in the moment I was content with having achieved my ultimate 50 mile goal when I told the lady I’m done. I felt like I was on top of the world.
I guess in variable degrees, it is part determination, accountability, the result of training, camaraderie, and the power in numbers—along with various other things that combine to form this magic. And never are there equal parts of these items, or the same balance from event to event. But what I have found is that they are there, in some form or another at most every event I do.
While I really can’t explain it, more and more I feel the magic is influenced by the aforementioned camaraderie and power in numbers. It just seems like being around like-minded people and all fighting individual battles to achieve the same goal propels you to something you would not have done on your own.
During this year, my second year of ultrarunning, I felt the magic again. I felt a stronger sense of it as well. I did my first official 50K race. About two months later I did my second 50K race and even though the course was probably just as hard or even harder, coupled with a hotter and more humid day, I knocked 22 minutes off my finishing time. The magic of the bib?
I did that same 12 hour ultra again this year too. My main goal was to equal the 50 miles I did last year (hopefully faster) with my ultimate goal being either 60 or 62 miles (100K).
This year having trouble with my truck on the way to the race forced me to actually park and run 1.5 miles to the race. I was debating if I should even run it but since I was so close to it and upon calling a good friend and having rough plans on how to get back home and deal with my truck, I decided to give it a shot.
I was very stressed at the start, having run to the race and only getting there 10 minutes before the start. I had a broken-down truck and was unsure what to do about it or how to get it back home. The weather was so-so at best. The course was going to be sloppy from rain the day prior. I didn’t feel like much was going to happen in this race. I wasn’t even sure how long to run, or again if I should even be running and instead tending to the truck. I started the race figuring I could drop out at any time. I had some low points early and as I settled in, my plan on what to do with the truck and how to get both me and it back home, I started feeling like actually turning this day and this event into a race again. My friend would not be coming for awhile so I figured I’d get in at least 20 miles. Well each of those laps were fast again. From mile 20, I felt like why not get in at least 31 to call it a true ultra? Again the laps were really consistent regarding pace. From 31 it became 40. My laps were still consistent. I was doing each lap right under an hour. So at that lap time I would be on pace to hit my 60 mile ultimate goal. My main thought was “how the hell was this possible?” Here I was in general terms in the middle of bad day running a great race. I decided to go for the 50 mile distance to at least equal what I did last year. I succeeded. I got in the 50 miles—a full 55 minutes faster than last year!
But had to call it quits. My friend was already at the race and I wanted some daylight hours for him and I to see if I could get my truck running again. Ultimately with a lot of work we did just that so that I could drive it home.
I’m almost surely convinced there was some magic in my race bib that day. I honestly have no idea how being as stressed as I was that day, I managed to get in 50 miles and set a PR by almost an hour. What makes me mad is the fact that without having to deal with my truck I was on pace to again get in my ultimate goal! I was running sub one hour laps and had two hours and 15 minutes left to finish two more loops to get to 60 miles. While those 2 laps would have been hard to mentally and physically push through, I know in my head and I know in my heart I would have been able to complete them with the time that was left on the clock.
There felt like some kind of magic at work that day.
In my fourth and final ultra this year I once again felt like I couldn’t explain how well I did. My official 50K PR is 6:07. This fourth ultra was a 40 mile race consisting of five 8 mile loops. So at the end of one’s fourth loop you are ever so slightly past that 50K distance. Upon getting done with the race (all 40 miles), I was talking to both the race director (RD) and the woman doing the timing. I saw they had the splits written down but could only remember one or two of them as I left the park. So I emailed the RD and asked for my splits. It turns out that my 32 mile split was 5:33. So while even though elevation change was not as much, I ran 32 miles a full half an hour faster than what I ever ran 31 miles—all while having the 100% full intention to go another 8 miles. I did really well in this event having finished 3rd overall and was the 2nd male finisher. I knew I was up front of most runners in this small race but by no means did I think I was that far ahead of others. Once again it felt like there was some kind of magic that occurred that day from pinning on that race bib.
Now to be clear on this topic, as I somewhat eluded to before, you should know that by magic I don’t mean in the literal sense like the dictionary would define it. But at the same time, part of what I have accomplished, from 5K to 10K to half-marathon to ultra, I can’t fully explain how I do so well sometimes. I know deep down that the aforementioned training and determination and preparedness are the real reason why I can accomplish these events, but it is the exceeding expectations aspect that I cannot explain and what I’ll stick with calling magic. I know that without the training I did for these events that I would not have come close to completing them in the times I did. It is my determination to finish what I started that helps me along when low points come along. I also feel the camaraderie aspect of running, especially ultra distance events, is a component to this type of success. When you combine all of these factors in a race you are bound to do better than in your training, whether on your own or in a group. I feel like the sum of the parts is greater than the whole essentially.
But kinda like the runner’s high, something most of runners experience at some point but struggle to explain, the magic of race bib brings us to another level of what we think of as possible. Perhaps the magic is a derivative of the runner’s high—I don’t know. All I can tell you is I believe in it.
In part, the purpose of writing on the topic of this post is to encourage you to get out there and not just sign up for a race, but to maybe sign up for something that is beyond what you think is capable or something that is out of your comfort zone. I don’t know if you will see or feel the same thing I do. And admittedly it might take awhile, even a long while before you see or feel what I have learned about the magic of the race bib. But I hope that in time you experience what I do, for I cannot explain how I completed some of what I have. While I don’t blow away the competition, I have accomplished more than what I ever thought possible of myself.
Don’t be surprised, if you haven’t already, that some day you finish a race and you do better than what you ever thought possible. You can call it something other than magic if you want, just know it exists.
