In the week leading up to the race I did a “mini-cleanse”, eliminating alcohol, coffee, wheat, and dairy. I knew it would not be easy considering I had dinner events both Friday and Saturday before the race, but when was anything worth doing ever easy? I brought a giant veggie salad to Friday’s event and a quinoa salad for Saturday evening. Sunday morning I awoke before sunrise, geared up, enjoyed some warm oats along with my first cup of coffee in eight days, and buzzed over to the race.

At the starting area of the race, Erin and I mingled with other racers and quickly learned that the event organizers had not yet arrived. Over 100 people in various running getups mulled about the start area, all missing one critical component- their race bib. Nobody had a clue as to the mystery of the absent organizers. At 8:30am a group of determined runners gathered at the “start-line” and charged out onto the course. They had come to run and that’s what they intended to do.

At 8:40 Erin and I toed the start line. Both of us had come with personal goals, so we decided to stick to the original plan and run the course as a race. We started our watches and headed up the first hill. Thankfully we knew every trail and turn, because it turned out there were no ribbons marking the course. Though many of my fellow runners had resolved to treat it as a fun run, I kept my game face on. I didn’t train, sacrifice, and endure a week of food cravings for nothing! Not to mention, I had told all my friends, clients, and family about the race and I wanted to have a good story to share with them.

Upon reaching the turnaround, I realized that it was within reach to finish under two hours, a goal I had secretly set for myself (but not stated aloud, worried that with 2,175 feet of elevation gain, it might be too aggressive). I maintained my pace and pushed on.

At the second river crossing, another runner asked me, “Why are you running so hard? What’s the point?” I answered, “Because I want to see what I can do.” Why else does one race? It’s not for the prize money; there is none- not in trail racing anyway. It’s not for the cheesy ribbons that bear a striking resemblance to the ones my kids get at swimming lessons. We race to test ourselves, to see what we are capable of.

Charging ahead, I kept my eye on the time and dug in. Pushing all the way to the “finish-line” I came in at 1:58, achieving my goal of beating two hours and finishing only 1 minute, 40 seconds behind the course record. There were no awards, no official results, and no post-race refreshments. I stuck around a while, cheering in other finishers and chatting with fellow runners. One couple had driven all the way from Fresno to run the 29K. They got completely lost and ended up running about half that distance, but like me they were glowing with the joy of running such beautiful trails. An 11year-old boy, running with his dad, finished strong completing his first 10K (they missed the turn-around and actually ran about 12K).

We ran the race that wasn’t that day. There was no race clock, no course markings, and no aid stations. Many went off course, some running fewer and others running more miles than they had planned, but everyone who I saw cross the “finish-line” had a smile on their face. Just like me.

Two days later the organizers posted on their website that the race had been cancelled due to health trouble. They apologized and promised to refund all race entries. I still don’t understand why it took them so long to follow up, especially considering they must have known the day before, as nobody had marked the course. Furthermore, putting on this type of event is not exactly a one-person operation.

It would be easy to be angry, but I choose to be thankful: that I have my health and could be there to run that day.

The morning of the race, I lay in bed listening to the rain pound my roof and waiting for my alarm to go off. As I brewed a hot cup of coffee, my husband asked me if I thought they might cancel the race due to extreme weather conditions. With a knowing smile, I answered, “No way. Trail runners thrive on this stuff. The tougher, the better.”

I could see he accepted the information but didn’t fully understand it.

On the way to the race, my friend and fellow racer, Erin, told me about a recent study, which proved that runners perceive “hitting the wall” long before they actually show any physical signs of fatigue. It never ceases to amaze me how a little snippet of information like this always seems to find me right before I race.

With numbers affixed and fingers poised to our stopwatches, we stood out in the downpour, impatiently listening to final pre-race announcements. A man with a scratchy megaphone reminded runners which color ribbons to follow depending on the distance they’d signed up for (10k, 17k, 35k or 50k), then counted down from 10 to “Go!” and the race began.

After a quick single-track descent, we started the relentless 5-mile climb to Skyline Boulevard. The next 10 miles of the race were out-and-back with rolling hills. About half a mile from the turnaround, I crossed paths with the woman who was leading the race and realized that I was holding second place. With 10 miles to go, no real threats behind me and my legs feeling strong, anything was possible.

The next 5 miles were the toughest part of the race, as we retraced our footsteps up and over the rollers, completing the 3,000 total feet of elevation gain. Every time I felt myself lose speed on an uphill, I reminded myself that fatigue hits your brain before your body. Each time my brain said, “You’re tired, slow down,” I simply said, “You’re wrong,” and to my surprise, my body effortlessly accelerated up the hill.

The final 5 miles were all downhill. With abundant energy, smooth form, quick feet and confidence, I flew down the mountain. Midway down, I came to an intersection where I had to decide whether to continue on the single track or turn left onto a fire road. Ribbons went in both directions, but I couldn’t remember which color I was supposed to follow. I made a quick decision and stayed on the single track. Though I wasn’t able to catch up to the woman in first, I was still thrilled to cross the finish line in second place.

The bad news came when the race organizers told me I’d arrived first and I realized that the woman I had been chasing was still on the course. In that moment, I knew that I must have followed the wrong color ribbons at the intersection, cutting the course short by about half a mile. I trudged over to the timing tent and awarded myself a rightful, but nevertheless disappointing, DQ. The official first-place finisher came in about 6 minutes later and claimed her medal, while I stood aside, knowing my name wouldn’t even appear in the results.

In chatting with other racers, I learned that I wasn’t the only one who made this mistake, and to my delight, they were laughing about it. The fact was, I had a great race with a finish time that exceeded my expectations — not to mention that my disqualification bumped my friend Erin up to third place. So as far as I’m concerned, the race was a total success, and I learned two valuable lessons: First, study the course map in advance of the race. And second, the results are secondary to the overall experience. I look forward to applying this newly found wisdom to my next race.

So on my next run, I set out to simply enjoy the experience. I found myself soaking up the beautiful scenery, appreciating that my lungs could pump hard to keep up with the demand, loving every moment, and wouldn’t you know, I was flying! I hadn’t run that fast in a very long time and it wasn’t my imagination, my Garmin Forerunner showed the numbers to prove it. When I went out for a swim a couple days later, I applied the same wisdom and low and behold it worked there too. I hit my fastest 100 since becoming pregnant two years ago and proceeded to hold that pace for 7 repeats. The thing is, I wasn’t trying to push as hard as I could or force my body to go faster. I was totally present and in the flow. It’s amazing how a little flip of a mental switch can have such an incredible effect on performance. I was thirsty to soak up whatever else this book had to say.

As I read on, I came to the part about barefoot running and was extremely intrigued by the ample data supporting this mode of training to both prevent injury and run faster. When I was 28, I completed my second 50K and my first marathon. On my 30th birthday I was the 3rd woman finisher at a trail half marathon in the Marin Headlands, but only 2 months later I started experiencing pain in my left heel. The diagnosis was plantar fascitis along with a stress fracture. While the injury did wonders for my swimming, it took me out of running for over 8 months. Even after wearing the boot immobilizer and multiple sessions of physical therapy, my foot was not 100%. I was convinced that my days of distance running were over. However, McDougall, who had a history of chronic running related injuries including plantar fascitis, had somehow found a way to not only avert injury, but train for a 50 mile trail race.

In his research, McDougall found that most of the worlds greatest runners use barefoot running as part of their training. In fact, he brings to light studies which reveal a direct relationship between how much you spend on your running shoes and the likeliness that you’ll experience a running related injury. A study published in the American Journal of Sports Medicine (1989) reported that “Runners in shoes that cost more than $95 were more than twice as likely to to get hurt as runners in shoes that cost less than $40.” This barefoot thing was really making sense to me but running straight out skin to dirt did sound a little painful and dangerous. Just as I began questioning if I’m really tough enough to ditch my sneaks, McDougall totally sold me on the Vibram FiveFinger running shoes. Their complete lack of support and thin rubber sole frees your feet to work the way nature intended, allowing you to reap all the benefits of running barefoot while protecting your skin. I immediately went online and found three stores nearest me who carried them. I had it all planned out to buy a pair the very next day.

Well, it’s a good thing I called ahead because as it turns out, tens of thousands of others had come to the same conclusion: I MUST have these hideous looking freaky toe shoes. Vibram apparently didn’t anticipate the impact that this book would have on their business because according to a rep from one running store, the company “has a 10,000 back-order waiting to be filled” and it would be months until they had my size. What a buzz kill.

Although… as I stared longingly at the $100.00 FiveFinger, it dawned on me that they look an awful lot like my surf booties. Hmmm. Why not give it a try? With way too little research, I headed to the breathtaking trails of Castle Rock State Park with my trail shoes on and my surf booties in hand. My plan was to run mostly in my trail shoes with about 2-3 ten minute intervals in the booties on uphill or flat terrain. I’d read that your first barefoot run will make your calves quite sore, so you should ease into it gradually. About 6 minutes into round two with the booties, the muscles around my ankles started feeling fatigued and I felt a tiny twinge of pain in my heel. Oh no! Was this all a big mistake? What was I thinking going out in my surf booties on rugged trails? I switched back to my trail shoes and focused on maintaining good form with tall posture and a short stride. Thankfully everything felt fine, so I went for round 3 with the booties on the last 10 minutes of the run. Amazing.

As I drove home my feet felt as if they’d been awaken from a long hibernation. They felt alive. I have yet to discover the soreness that will follow, but I’m optimistic about the long term possibilities that suddenly seem to have opened up.  I’ve always loved distance running but considering the foot and knee pain that had plagued me in the past, I was doubtful that I’d ever race another ultra. But now… that little thought I’d had about running a 50 miler is starting to look like it might actually be possible. Perhaps I’m putting too much faith in this barefoot running frenzy. Or maybe this is the beginning of something huge.

Define Your Goal

First, define your goal using the following criteria. Your goal must be specific and measurable. The goal “to lose weight” is too vague. Instead you might aim to “lose 10 pounds in the next 12 weeks”. This is clearly stated and achievable. Your goal must be realistic based on your current level of fitness and time available to train. For dietary goals, be realistic about how many changes you can take on at once. Set a goal that you can accomplish within 3 months. Quarterly goals may support a larger year-end goal. Your goal must be challenging. If it is too easy, you will not be as motivated or excited to work towards it.

Make a Plan

Now that you have defined your goal, you need a plan to get you there. If your goal is fitness related (ex: “Run a 10K”), you should make a weekly training schedule as well as a week by week progression leading up to the event. You should know exactly what you are supposed to be doing each day between now and race day (don’t wing it!).

If you are focusing on nutrition goals, write out a plan that specifies one or two significant but approachable changes per week. Start with your biggest challenges first to get quicker results and reap the motivational benefits that follow.

Keep a Journal

This is how you will hold yourself accountable. In your journal you will track details about your workouts, what you ate, your weight and measurements, unexpected challenges, modifications to your plan, and other personal notes. You will feel a sense of satisfaction when you stick to your plan and write it down as proof that you did it.

Get started today. Define your goal, make a plan, track your progress, and achieve what you set out to do. You will gain a sense of gratification and pride that will motivate you to set a new goal and reach even greater heights.