Illustration of a sweat-stained running cap on a folding table at a countryside race checkpoint with paper cups of water, orange slices and bananas, a chalky trail winding over green hills

What a baseball cap taught me on my first ultra

Jun 24, 2017 | Life

On my first ultra, over 100 miles across four days, my best friend turned out to be a baseball cap. Here's why, and what aid stations taught me.

I'm somewhere in the middle of my first ultra, over 100 miles across four days. It's August 2014, and right now the trail in front of me looks like it goes on forever.

So I pull the peak of my baseball cap down. Not to keep the sun off this time, though it's done that all morning. It kept the rain off yesterday as well. I'm pulling it down so I can't see the horizon.

All I can see is the bit of track in front of my feet. And that I can manage.

Too far to look at

There are points in a race like that when the distance is the only thing you can see. The finish is so far away it doesn't feel real, and every time you look up it seems to have moved further off.

So I stop looking up. I take a step. Then another one. Then another. And a funny thing happens. The more steps you take, the closer the thing that felt impossible starts to feel.

That cap became my best friend for four days.

Just get to the next aid station

On long races there are aid stations every few miles. You don't have to think about the finish. You just have to get to the next one.

At a lot of those stops there's a medic who checks you over. They're not there to cheer you on. They're there to tell you the truth about whether you're fit to carry on. Sometimes that's the most useful thing anyone can give you.

And the race asks you to stay flexible. You get to a hill and think there's no way you're running up it. Fine. Walk to the top and run again from there. You reach a stop and realise you need ten minutes sat down and some proper food inside you. Fine. Take it. Being stubborn about the plan is a good way to not finish.

The one I think about most

I've done a lot of running since, including 100 kilometres in a single day the following summer. That first ultra is still the one I think about most when something big feels out of reach.

Distance running is the best picture I know for most of life. It isn't a sprint. It's going the distance, being honest about where you are, being willing to change how you get there, and taking the next step anyway. I wrote about where it all started in What marathon training taught me about big goals.

If something you're working on feels too big to look at, stop looking at the finish for a bit. Work out where your next aid station is, the next small milestone, and just get yourself there.

First published June 2017.

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