I’m currently in the middle of running 11 marathons in 11 weeks to support the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  At this point, I’ve completed 8 marathons with 3 more remaining.  Each marathon has been different from the next.  I’ve ran at 31 degrees and 85 degrees.  Some of the races were on city streets, others off the grid on a trail or gravel road.  Most of the races have gone well.  Two of the races have exceeded the traditional 26.2 mile marathon with a 31 mile distance (50k).  After hammering out the first six, my most recent two have been my strongest performances.  I’m not wearing down at this point, I’m getting stronger.

I was very sore after completed the 5^th marathon, followed up by a week of work travel to Vegas.  My hip was sore, yet I didn’t have access to the recovery modalities (cryotherapy, red light bed, infrared saunas, compression therapy, etc) on the road.  My training schedule was thrown off, as was sleep and nutrition.  Marathon #6 in Olathe, KS was a struggle with the slowest time.  This was the motivation I needed for the next two on the same week, Sunday in Oklahoma City and Saturday in Cassoday, KS.  These two races ended up being my two best performances of the 8. 

I felt strong for the entirety of Oklahoma City and nailed my best marathon time since prior to 2018’s car accident.  Anyone who has ran OKC knows about Claassen Street.  There is a brutal, 4 mile stretch starting around mile #20 where you continually run uphill.  It is not a steep incline, but it feels like it never ends.  This spot has been brutal during the two other times I’ve completed OKC.  As I approached this spot, I told myself to dig deep for 4 miles and run hard to the finish.  As the pain and struggle intensified, my mind began having flashbacks.  These flashbacks highlighted all the dark times during my injury recovery.  I saw visions of me sitting in the doctor’s office, visions of rehab and visions of me suffering in pain.  The visions turned to gratitude.  It was May 2019 when I was told I would likely never run a marathon again and to begin adjusting my expectations of physical activity.  Despite spinal stenosis and 6 straight weeks of marathons, I was running hard and felt great.

Next up was the Heartland 50k in Cassoday, KS.  When planning the 11, I’ve believed this would be the most difficult race.  The course is off the grid on gravel roads with 2200 of incline to go with the extra 4.8 miles.  Additionally, after a cool spring, Kansas would have a heat wave on race day that I was not acclimated for.  My preparation was solid, and I was confident when the race began.  Everything went unbelievably smooth, and I was leading the race by mile 12.  I looked over my shoulder as I approached mile #17 and no one was in sight.  I knew winning the race was a possibility, while acknowledging the temperature passing 80 degrees would make the latter portion challenging.  I continued to run hard and maintained a solid pace.  It was a lonely road—I would only see one other runner the rest of the day.

I began thinking about what it would be like to win this thing while reflecting on where I came from.  12 years ago, I was fat and out of shape, yet here I was leading the pack in an ultramarathon.  I prayed with most words expressing gratitude to God for leading me out of the life I once had.  Without Him, I would still be a mess and not out running an ultra.  I continued to run but each mile beyond 23 became more difficult, yet no other runner could be seen.  At this moment, leg cramps settled in.  I stopped on the side of the road for stretching and resumed the run at a slightly slower pace.  The cramps returned within a mile so I stopped to stretch a second time in front of an un-manned aid station.  I sat down for 3 minutes to give the legs a break before continuing.  I made it to mile 27 when the calf cramps came back with a vengeance.  Despite constant hydration and salt consumption, my body hadn’t been pushed in heat since September.  This cramp was the worst I’ve ever had.  My calf muscle was locked up and my toe was pointed like a ballerina.  I couldn’t stand or bare weight on my left leg and went down to the ground.  Quitting was not an option, nor was walking to the finish.  I stretched for several minutes before noticing a runner who was approaching me.  I stood up and resumed running, but Sarah caught up with me.  I explained my situation and she graciously offered to run intervals with me (run 3 minutes, walk 1) over the final 4.  I tried, but I couldn’t keep up with her pace any longer and didn’t want to slow her down.  This is when I said “congratulations, you are going to win this thing.  Go finish this race”.  She hesitated and asked if I was sure.  My response, “go win this thing, I will take 1^st male finisher”.  The final 4 miles were brutal, yet I somehow paced better than I did in marathon #6.  I couldn’t see anyone behind me which I intended to keep that way.  I finally crossed the finish line taking #2 overall and 1^st male finisher.

12 years ago I didn’t know what an ultramarathon was.  12 years ago I couldn’t run to the mailbox.  When I began running, a marathon wasn’t a possibility.  I had hopes of maybe running a half-marathon as a bucket list goal, but it was impossible then.  1^st male finisher in an ultra?  This hasn’t even been a goal of mine because it has always been out of reach.  When it became a possibility, I fought harder.

I thought about folks who are impacted by blood cancers during those tough miles, which is why I was out there to begin with.  I’m running to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  The folks they help fight a much larger challenge than winning a 50k.  It’s a long battle with ups and downs and I wanted to honor them on Saturday. 

Eventually I would finish 5 minutes behind 1^st place but secured 1^st male finisher.  I’m doing this to support LLS, not to win trophies or set PRs.  With that said, I do want to give my best possible performance each time I run for them.  Not only did I do that on Saturday, but I believe this was the best running performance of my life.  It wasn’t the fastest and yes, I did surrender 1^st overall.  I ran hard, gave it my best and fought through adversity to finish strong despite tough conditions.  I’ll never forget this race.

I have 3 marathons left and could use your support.  Please consider a donation to my campaign to support the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  To learn more or support this cause, please visit www.mattrunsforlls.com.  Thanks for your support!

Photos courtesy of Mile 90 Photography….the best in the business!