Chapters close, years roll, and somehow, I'm still churning miles

I get it, it's been a year and half since my last consistent writing. Who reads a long form anymore? I didn't want to waste energy for nothing. I mean, it's even better when not a single person opens a blog, but when a few that you hope do - just scroll down, that what hurts most. Because there's soul in-between the lines, bleeding in each sentence. I figured, might as well journal more, since, you know, nobody gets to read it by definition, so whatever.

But, here's a pull. I recently had to mourn something that was a part of my life. No, not a real mourning. Just a "thing". But, allow me to backtrack...

After the 2023 year with 2 knee surgeries and a focused recovery, I id come back to my favorite sport. I ran two 50k's at the end of that year, and things went well. With renewed energy and enthusiasm, I trained. I won't go into every little race, and let the results speak for themselves, but the highlight was finishing Sedona 125 mile race as a 3rd female. It went without a hitch, until in the last 25 miles I got a "lean", that crooked body position that prevented me to run. 

After that, of course, I went back to the Colorado Trail unsupported attempt. Holy cow, would I ever give up? It was my 3rd unsupported go from Durango, and while I went the farthest (7 days, 275 miles), from day 1 I developed those deep under-calluses blisters, that with extremely wet conditions also got infected, and spread onto nerve endings, basiclally getting me to unable to walk (although God knows I still did). When the situation got simply dangerous for my future endevours, I made a deicison to bail.

Photos here

It took full 2 months before my feet were back to normal - at first I couldn't even walk to the bathroom. For real. It may not look as horrific, but it felt insane, and I even went to see a doctor, something I don't do often (if at all).

Anyhow, life went on, Larry and I climbed Mt Whitney, and I raced some more, swearing I'll never go back to CT, again.

Cue year 2025. It started amazingly well, being 55 didn't affect my desire to train and race well, and the results showed. Alas, I've included training with my trusted backpack. Oh, boy...

The highlight of the racing season was San Diego 100 mile, my 4th time at this race. They've changed the course as many times as I was there, and this year it was, officially, the "worst, rocky, most difficult". I tried for sub-24, and made it in 26 and change, however, placing 3rd female, yet again. I guess, long distance is still my thing, huh? I got a lean, again (what is up with this thing?), but not as bad as the previous year (must be those extra 25 miles).

And, you know it, 12 days later I was setting my foot (feet?) back on the Colorado Trail. Only this time I decided to go from the Denver end, to be nice to Larry (who's been driving me those attempts), and to be nice to myself (to ease my old body into the terrain). While I taped up my feet like crazy, had a dry start, and generally lighter pack, WTF - I got sick 2 days prior! I don't get sick! Ok, I thought, just a sniffle, it'll sort itself out. I already took vacation time off work, and I can't shift it (thus why my supports could only be done once a year). But, Universe was REALLY showing me who's the boss. The "little sniffle" by the moring of the start turned into cough, fever, and from there, it went downhill. I kept going, not having taken any meds (dumb ass), hoping it'll pass. It didn't. Going over 12,500 pass at the end of day 3, I couldn't inhale, gasping, what sent me into panic attack, what made me comletely unable to breathe. That lasted good 10 minutes. It resolved, but "little sniffle" turned bronchitis was not going anywhere, blowing snots, hacking pieces of lungs, not able to draw air, and not sleeping (duh). In the middle of day 4, having gone 42 miles/day and 150 miles, I called it quits, once again. And I wasn't even THAT upset - I was just sick.

PHOTOS here

It took me another full week to recover - which made the whole illness 2 weeks, and I don't remember last time I was sick for that long and that badly! But, at some point, the running came back, again, and with vengence I was training - setting little PR's in every segment (Incline and Pikes Peak being my biggest marks that got shuttered). Couple more 50k's, and I had to scratch the itch - I found Rainbow trail. I won't bore you with details, read the REPORT HERE for my unsupported FKT.

Now we come to the point of why the hell I began this post at all. I'm not going to write, again, all the turmoilous thoughts and processes I went through, what I do want to share, is my exchange with Allison, and main person behind the FKT website and accepting those records. I'll backtrack with saying, she's been the nices person ever, every time I quit, had words for me, and I believed her. So, I felt compelled to write to her about my decision to move on back to racing, while I still can, away from FKT's, as hard as giving up on CT is for me.

From Olga:

Well, I'm going to have to face the real life and realize someone Up there doesn't want me to do it, and I simply ran out of age. I caught covid on Saturday afternoon, suffered through the next couple of days hopeful it'll be over, and I couldn't move the date because of work situation (I work with people). So, I started. And it all went downhill, cold moving into chest, stuffed everything, no sleep, no ability to move uphill, to eat and drink (which requires one functional breathing opening). I hacked my lung out, and despite all, the bronchitis settled in. Obviously, I am not caring any meds for it. 

I know I've promised before "never again". In 5 years, the original "why" had been lost, evolved, and nearly disappeared. At this point, it was almost like a hang up, something I expect myself to do once the summer rolls around. By now, the reason is definitely not as existing. More like, I had failed in so many aspects in life that are far more important, and I thought doing it would substitute it somehow? Yes, I can't function right now for the goal of unsupported through hike of 500 miles (I'm surprised I hit 40 daily and could have today). The question is, and? I suck it up and prove to myself I can suffer? The name on the website is absolutely neat. But, too, shouldn't be the driving force. I'm too old to truly care about it. I do, and yet it feels wrong. I'm not about to inspire, empower, set an example. There are so many others for that. I do things for absolutely personal thought process. I need to figure out where it takes me, once I get off the rotation.

I'm attaching the video of the misery of the illness, but I'm also so glad that this year it was less planned, less hyped, less shared thing. I've been an introvert my whole life. With aging, it kind of magnified. Epic failures lead to epic depressions. But this, too, shall pass.

With sincere respect 

Olga King 

P.s. there were definitely good moments, and now I truly saw and experienced Colorado trail from each way, multiple times, in various ways.

From Allison:

You know what, whether you got it or not, you still gave it a shot, and that's half the battle.  To be able to do it, give it a go is an achievement in it of itself and be proud of yourself, your resilience :) You are incredible! Trust me I don't send that to everyone :) I just admire your tenacity and passion for the sport!  Can't wait to see what you do next.

From Olga:

First of all, I want to sincerely thank you for your unwavering support, of myself, and likely many many other folks who're trying to chase their dreams. Personally, in a way, I began each year wanting to give you a reason to believe that your words meant a world to me, I wanted to show you you're correct in your assessment.

I came upon Colorado trail FKT by a happen chance. After over a dozen years of racing, I faced, simultaneously, a sudden early menopause, an extreme work overload from 3 jobs I've taken upon, an exposure to year-round training in the heat of Texas, and a personal struggles with both of my kids turning to hard drugs on the streets. The official "Overtraining/overreaching syndrome" has barely been mentioned, Geoff Roes being the first highlighted case, and I followed his path of checking every system in my body, yet not finding anything drastically wrong. However, towards the end of 2013, I couldn't run. Some days were merely ok, some - I wasn't sure I'd be able to come back from around the block. My desire for the outdoors, as well as my only ability to cope with life's challenges, turned to solo backpacking. It seemed that my sweet spot of daily mileage was just north of 30 miles. A year prior our move to CO, I went to through hike the CT. In the same way I had done OR PCT, northern section of CA PCT, TRT...up before dawn, 30 miles, stop in daylight and cook dinner. But, this is when I learned about the FKT existence, and as I finished, i emailed Peter Bakwin asking if I should submit. He said yes. This turning moment was satisfying, as racing has been absent for the past 5 years, and I was lost. 

We moved to CO, the Collegiate loop was my next logical project. I always knew that I could put more daily miles in if I wanted to - it's just my first thru was "for fun" (not to mention my pack no longer was 45 lbs). And the 5-year chase after the unsupported FKT on CT started...

The thing is, at the same time, my running, and subsequent ability to race, miraculously returned. I was torn. I was aging. I faced a year of absolutely dumb knee injury and 2 surgeries. Each attempt at CT was taking my summer vacation time from work, and an insane amount of time to recover, regardless of how far I had gotten. Each year, as strong and physically fit I felt, something completely random would go wrong. Then, it'd be on to the next year...

I spent 4 summers chasing after the CT just because I knew I could do it better than the first time. I kept promising to stop this, and I couldn't. It had a pull. Not to prove it to anybody, or to be first. For my own sanity.

Now, for my own sanity, I needed closure. Otherwise, I was already rolling in my head when to go back... I couldn't let myself get there, again.

I don't know if you heard, with hundreds of amazing folks doing amazing things daily, but I went on a Rainbow trail last week, and got to scratch my itch of the unsupported FKT. I'm still trying to figure out if I'm celebrating, or mourning "goodbye " to the dream I nourished for so many years, literally being able to picture and feel every inch on this trail, from any direction, in any variation. 

I am hanging my backpack in the closet, to be taken out only for pleasure. The chapter of longer versions of multiday FKT is closed with a lid screwed on tight. It is, indeed, very sad to let go of the elusive idea, as logical as this decision is. I guess it's the reality of getting older and being limited, that hits me the hardest. I don't know how many good healthy years of racing I have left, now that I am about to turn 56, and I am scared to lose even one more. 

Why such a long letter, to, technically speaking, a stranger? I don't know, I'm weird like that. I'm drawn to your kindness, you witnessing my attempts, and I feel I need you to know, this decision of stepping away is hard, but needed. And also, that I have no regrets for trying. In no small part thanks to you.

From Allison:

Oh Olga,

I am welling up with tears as I respond as I appreciate your longevity and tenacity in the sport.  Your story is incredible and I am so glad you found FKTs as a way to still enjoy the outdoors and selfishly let me tag along on the adventure.  Even though your journey may be coming to an end, you have paved the way for others to pursue it and continue your legacy (Annie Hughes for example).  Your name will always be on our leaderboards as someone that set a high mark for other strong women to follow suit! Give yourself grace as you should celebrate your achievements and be proud of what you've accomplished in the face of adversity!! Keep in touch :) 

On this note, life is good, I'm processing my mortality, in sport and in life, continue working and helping people heal, inside and out, while healing myself. This sport is weaved with soul, grit, and beautiful people. I love where we live, plan many new adventures to come, and keep my hopes that I'll be doing it for many years - and when I can't, somehow I'll figure out, again, how to fill the void.