Only those who risk failing greatly can ever succeed greatly.

--Robert F. Kennedy

The true measure of success is going from failure to failure without a loss of enthusiasm. I’m not sure where I heard that pearl of wisdom, and I cannot claim it as my own; however, I have drawn strength from it in the past few days. Oddly enough, I do not feel a loss of enthusiasm—quite the contrary. If I did not have a prior obligation this weekend, I would probably have tried to run the Iron Horse 100-Miler in Florida. I am that motivated to get back on this particular horse. As I mentioned in my blog on the eve of the race, I was not afraid to fail. I don’t operate that way. And I always know in the back of my head there is that chance when dappling with distances this long and racing as often as I do. Those that boast of never DNFing are tempting the gods with hubris. Yet, I also know that my day will come and all of these experiences will add up to wonderful success in ultra running if I simply pay heed to the lessons learned out there. Therein lies the key: I must shut out the negative demons in my head that are calling me a failure and find the many positives from the day.

Most importantly, I loved every minute of Rouge-Orleans—even the bad ones for it is those that I will re-work and learn from. Cruising through the first 52.4 miles in 8:16 and 75 miles in 14:20 feeling like I was ten feet tall and bulletproof was one of the most exhilarating race experiences that I have had yet. As I would pass my crew, I called out, “I love this sh#t!” And I do. I was singing. I was dancing. I met some incredibly cool people, and got attacked by dogs. I felt like I was on a treadmill and could not believe the dividends my training paid. My plan worked! Unfortunately, nature had a different idea for me (and 57% of the solo field) on this particular day, and the temperature dropped significantly while the wind changed directions. I couldn’t believe it when I got to mile 80 and found out that I was leading the entire race overall male or female by 58 minutes. This gave me the strength I needed to keep moving. Clearly, we were doing something right! All of the other solos in my wave had thrown in the towel at least 40 miles earlier.

The Crew went into overdrive trying to keep me warm and continue giving me nutrition. Justin had been running with me for hours, which in hindsight was probably a mistake because we needed him to be a clear-headed decision-maker later in the race. Having been out there and also subjected to the wind and cold (single digit record temperatures on the levee—lucky us!), he was also a bit a delirious. By mile 90, I had on a fleece, a neoprene jacket, TWO heavy down jackets, two hats, earmuffs, two pairs of gloves, compression socks, fleece tights and a pair of pants over them. This was still not enough clothing for me to produce any heat on my own while running. I was freezing. So, Jeff tied a t-shirt around my face, which had gotten so wind-burned it was peeling and bleeding. To add insult to injury, I have issues breathing out of my nose—I only breathe out of my mouth when I run—so, we had another problem on our hands by covering my mouth. I started to hyperventilate and freak out. Apparently, I was saying all sorts of things that I don’t remember. The long and short of it is that I said I had to get in the car for a minute before I died. This was mile 95 and around 20 hours into the race.

At this point, we should have sprung into action making soup, which had worked earlier, trying more caffeine and strategizing. Instead, it seemed as if we were all paralyzed and hopeless. I had pushed my “perceived limitations” to the maximum 100 percent and accidentally went over—and not just to—the edge. The evening before, I said I wanted to learn something, and that I learn something new each time I push myself further. Unfortunately, this is what I was supposed to learn: How to let go. Here is my growth. Trust me, it is uncomfortable. I’ve been berating myself and everyone involved for the past four days. If you could see bruises from the verbal lashes taking place inside my head, I would be in a psych ward for self-abuse. I do not let myself off easy—quite the contrary. I am harder on myself than anyone else. But there comes a time to cut the crap and learn something new. Change the behavior and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I ran a beautiful race until mile 95. It bodes very well for future long races. The Crew did what they thought was in my best interest and safest. I was incoherent and falling off the trail, and maintain that I have the best crew in the business. What would I do crewing for an athlete like that?

The following quote helped snap me out of my melancholy reverie:

Self-pity is easily the most destructive of the non-pharmaceutical narcotics; it is addictive, gives momentary pleasure and separates the victim from reality. It will parch your attitudes, paralyze your abilities, and put off your achievements. It prohibits excellence and prevents expansion.

--John Gardner

So, okay Meredith. Stop the madness. You don’t have cancer. Life is not going to end because you did not finish this race. I have been paralyzed all week, lost in my pity party. Sure, I had a lot invested because I wanted to do THIS race more than anything on my calendar in 2012. However, that is the beauty of singularity of focus: Shift gears. Find something else to focus on. Return to Rouge-Orleans next year armed with the knowledge gained on the levee this year. For one thing, I shouldn’t start in the last solo wave so that I have more time in case something does go wrong again. The solos that had the most success started earlier. I must admit that it is incredibly cathartic to write about it. I appreciate the out-pouring of support from everyone and the patience of my crew, family and close friends during this past week. I’m ready to shut this thing down and move on to the next one. It was fun. In a sick way.

        A note about nutrition: Amazingly enough, I got to mile 95 that fast solely on Generation UCAN (www.generationucan.com). I use the chocolate and vanilla protein-enriched flavors, and swear by them. The moment I tried to take in anything thing else, i.e. Fig Newtons, pretzels, etc., I vomited. So, we stuck to UCAN and remained successful. Around mile 65, I had some soup to warm me up and kept that down. Every two hours, I was taking Metasalt tablets as well. Thanks to Bob Seebohar of Fuel4Mance (www.fuel4mance.com), I have gotten myself metabolically fit enough to race using only fluids by completely changing my diet. Please see his website to find out how.