only came outside to watch the nightfall with the rain, I heard it making patterns rhyme...

your life burns faster...

what a long, strange trip it's been...

inhale. exhale. just got 6.9 ounces in the mail.

bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, this is planet earth...

I had a great race at the Zion 100K back in April but when I crossed the line in 2nd not having passed the actual 2nd place runner, I knew a missed turn somewhere in the final miles had cost me an official finish. I didn't really care about that, but I was really bummed that it cost me a States qualifier, and I knew trying to fit another 100K on the calendar would come around to haunt me...and haunt me it did, big time.

If the first half of the year felt like surfing an endlessly perfect wave into turning 50, the first months of actually being 50 - with only a few exceptions - have been like repeatedly going over the falls on shitty shorebreakers that pummel you face first into the sand. For better or worse I've always ridden the highs and lows of life intensely. Lately, it's been one riptide after another.

I've run or hiked on maybe 25% of the days since June 1, with a few lengthy gaps of basically nothing. I signed up for Kodiak in late July with zero excitement, simply knowing it would be my last shot at a qualifier - then proceeded on the same unstructured, highly inconsistent course until September, before cramming for the exam...and poorly. 

Still only running a few days a week, beginning with the 25 mile backyard Sky Marathon on 9/8, I suffered through the 41 mile Mt Hood Timberline Trail, the Mammoth Trail Fest 50K & Wild Wild West 50K in rapid succession.

The last time I was this anxious before a 100K was, well, never. So anxious that I pulled an AJW and drank some beers the evening before while unable to sleep and attempting to drown out the noise of doubt with music.

Intentionally standing in the way back, it took well over a minute to cross the starting line. During the first third I tried to be as mellow as possible - without just walking everything - but could still feel my legs getting achy, and the connective tissue locking up.

The middle third did have me walking just about everything. At one point I think I walked for an hour straight - downhill, flat, buff road or trail...didn't matter. Completely  uninspired, and really desiring to drop, I kept thinking about the qualifier and whether I wanted it bad enough to be out there mostly walking for a sub-18 hour finish. It was hot, the middle part of the course featured primarily wide, sandy, and monotonous dirt roads, and drinking more beer and maybe hanging up the ultrarunning shoes was sounding really appealing.

Then, the magic of the final third happened. The human physiology, and the mind-body connection, is a fascinating mystery. I don't know what shifted at the mile 43 aid station but I caught a flier on the return PCT leg, and it lasted all the way to the finish. After looking for - and always finding - excuses to walk all day long I ran almost every step of the last 20 with pure joy. The ridgetop singletrack leading from the final climb back to the Cougar Crest trail descent to the finish at Big Bear Lake in the alpenglow preceding sunset passed trancelike... the closest I've come to entering the elusive "zone" in quite awhile.

I guess my psyche is getting back in the game. Maybe I won't hang up the shoes just yet...

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Jeff Kozak

The Shit I'll Still Do For A Western States 100 Lottery Qualifier: Kodiak 100K

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only came outside to watch the nightfall with the rain, I heard it making patterns rhyme...

your life burns faster...

what a long, strange trip it's been...

inhale. exhale. just got 6.9 ounces in the mail.

bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, this is planet earth...

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