After 175 miles of consistently running 4.167 mile laps (yards as us backyard folk like to call them) every hour on the hour for 42 hours, I laid down on my back on the hard concrete surface of the multi-use path that is the Capital Backyard Ultra night course and stared at the night sky. I thought about how my race was now over, my decision made to return to the start/finish area after only completing the first of two out and backs required for a full night course yard. I thought about how bad my body hurt, how tired I was, and how I just didn’t seem to be able to find the fight in myself to push on through it as I have at previous backyard races. I felt like a failure. I felt weak, insignificant, and disappointed in myself. I was a quitter. I was very aware at the time that I was experiencing all those feelings as a result of my free will, my choice to end my race when it got hard. I was not happy about it, but I just could not convince myself at the time that I wanted anything that continuing the race would lead to more than just being able to have the race be over.
The race started well enough for me. The first day was smooth and my body felt good. I enjoyed catching up with the runners I already knew and chatting with runners I had just met that day. The weather was a bit warm, but nice; I had no idea how bad my attitude would get as the race progressed. The first night went well with minimal sleepiness. I got some short naps, so I should have been set up well to have a good race.
During some of the later afternoon yards, I got so low and negative that I started thinking about how all my training runs were a waste of time. I look forward to my normal 1-2 hour training runs. They are my time to decompress, sort through my thoughts and emotions, and invigorate me to continue facing daily challenges. Yet here I was viewing them as wasted time. I don't know how many times I have replayed conversations in my head while running and reevaluated things I've said and done, oftentimes attempting to view the situation from someone else's perspective. I've left for runs upset about a recent argument or heated conversation knowing I was right and after a long run analyzing the situation and what was said have returned home knowing that I was in the wrong and owed someone an apology. Any activity that can help you experience empathy and recognize your faults while motivating you to rectify them is by no means a waste of time. But that's what I was telling myself at one point before the sun had even set for the second night of the race.
Things didn’t improve for me when we switched to the paved night course and the second night set in. I tried to grind on and at least just embrace an attitude of apathy as it seemed like the lesser of two evils compared to the negativity I was feeling. It worked for a few hours, but it wasn’t enough. I went to my Hail Mary that has saved me at previous backyards and called my wife. She said the right things, but I didn’t want to hear them. It didn’t reignite my passion or fight, but just hearing her voice and efforts to motivate me were enough to keep me grinding on for a few more hours. Several yards later, after experiencing what seemed like the worst pain at the time and difficulty in getting my legs to move at the start of every yard, I started what would be my final yard attempt. I’d force my legs to start a run as they resisted and complained with every muscle and tendon only to inadvertently revert back to a walk after a few paces. After repeating this process many times for the first half mile or so of the yard, I began to realize my race was done. There was sadness and, I’m ashamed to admit it, but also a sense of relief. A short time later, I was flat on my back staring at the dark sky contemplating it all.
Why? It’s always the “why” everyone talks about in ultrarunning. “You must know your ‘why.’” We hear it and read it all over the place: podcasts, blogs, social media etc. Having had a few months to reflect on my race, I believe my “why”, or lack thereof, is the explanation for me having the performance that I was so disappointed with. A big part of why my race ended as it did, I attribute to motivation. Honestly, my heart just wasn't in this race. I registered for Capital pretty early this year because it was a silver ticket race and because I thought it'd be really cool to be the last one standing at a race of Capital Backyard’s stature for three consecutive years. Why would someone not want that? But it takes more than just wanting that outcome because it sounds impressive to do well in a backyard race. A competitive backyard is almost sure to have low points and the “why” is what provides the motivation to push on through them. For me, as amazing and cool as a threepeat of winning Capital sounded, it wasn’t enough to for me to push myself through that second night.
Comparing my race experiences running Capital Backyard in 2023 and 2024 is almost like a textbook case of intrinsic versus extrinsic motivations. My main motivation in 2023 was to prove to myself that I could still compete at a high level at backyard ultras after my wife and I welcomed our fourth son into our family. Being a bit older as a father this time around, having three older boys to attend to and care for, and having a two-month-old baby at home made me question whether I was going to able to be competitive at backyard ultras anymore. Thankfully, I got the answer I was hoping for and was the last one standing at Capital Backyard in 2023. Contrast that with my completely shallow and extrinsic motivation (it’d be cool to say I won this race three years in a row) for running Capital Backyard Ultra in 2024 and the results are not surprising to me. In fact, the contrasting forms of motivation and results encourage me. In a sense, I believe they provide some evidence that I am running these types of races for the “right” reasons. I’m not just chasing the fame, fortune, and all the other accolades that come with doing well at backyard ultras (yes that was sarcasm there) but am running these races for my personal reasons and motivations.
Scott Snell
5 November 2024