Cayuga Lake
date: 10/12/2024
total mileage: 85.9
Stage 11: Complete
This one is going to take a minute to sink in. When deciding on the order in which I was going to run the lakes, I was torn whether saving Cayuga for the finale was the smartest decision. Do I save the hardest for last or conclude this adventure with something a little more tolerable and familiar? After this past Saturday, I would not have had it any other way.
A beautiful thing about the ultra distance is that at several points throughout the run you are reminded of the body’s vulnerability to its physical limitations and the mind’s ability to pivot from those limitations. It’s a continuous cycle that replays over and over again; something you can’t replicate otherwise. They say in a marathon you go to hell and stay there and in an ultra you go to hell, come back, and go to hell again. For the longest time I’ve tried to make sense of this “coming back” phase and what its trying to teach me. I’m convinced it’s a reminder—a reminder that at any given moment, the dancefloor this world has given you could crumble from beneath your feet. If you don’t accept this, or in any way try to fight it and not give back the respect it demands from you, then you’re left to suffer the consequences.
Running for over 20 hours will teach you a lot about yourself. It’ll take you to deepest depths of your being, teetering on the border of what you know and what you wish you didn’t. It’s the hours before the dawn—the darkest of dark, as the swirling fractals of your breath pass through your headlamp, when the only eyes watching are those of a not-so-distant band of coyotes that you realize just how precious and fragile this whole experience is.
On runs like this, you really don’t have a concept of time. Instead, you begin to notice and trust the patterns of life undulating around you: soon the roosters will begin to crow, the paper boy should be driving by any minute now, the sun will be up soon, traffic should be picking up, traffic is settling down, the moon is rising, repeat. There’s humor in this.
I’ve traveled the roads of Cayuga more than any of the other ten lakes. We knew what was there, we knew the landscape—the long stretches of nothingness, the busier portions with no shoulders, the hills coming in and out of Ithaca, the miserable rednecks of King Ferry, the Union Springs casino at midnight, all of it. And it all made beautiful sense.
A feat like this truly takes a village. There is zero chance I make it back to Montezuma without my crew and those who showed up on the course to support me. And to my rock, my fiancée, Alannah who in the early stages of Project 11 had no idea what she was entering in to. Her role as nurse, wardrobe switcher, chief navigator, and master pbj maker was what got me into that dispensary parking lot a little after 1am Sunday morning.
Many have asked what is next, and unfortunately, I don’t have the answer to that. For now my focus will be on active recovery, fall baking, wedding planning, and a mediocre football team. The ultra distances will take a back seat and when the time is right, getting back to running fast again, whether on the trails or roads, will be graciously welcomed.
When I started Project 11 over two years ago, I never imagined it becoming what it has become. I’ll forever be grateful for the outpouring of support from family, friends, the local community, and strangers who have contributed and/or shared their stories to help spread awareness on a subject so important and dear to myself. Until next time, continue to check in on each other and Keep. Moving. Forward.
