“Come what may…I want to run.”
Pre-Dawn
With a starting time of 6am, and a stay in the
Motel 6 about 10 miles from the start, my alarm began to chirp at 4am. I will
say that I have never slept that good before a race…I probably managed about
5-6 hours, which is quite different from the tossing and turning-filled one to
two hours I am accustomed to getting. I hopped out of bed and headed to the
lobby, hoping that the sweet receptionist at the hotel was telling the truth
about coffee being ready by 4. I went double-fisted back to the room and got
dressed for the race: my Rock/Creek-emblazoned Patagonia race jersey, Brooks
Infiniti shorts, Drymax Maximum Protection socks, CEP calf-compression sleeves
and Inov-8 Roclite 295 shoes. I grabbed my Rock/Creek race team bag, which was
to serve as my aid station at the start-finish area and filled with GU, Nuun,
Bodyglide, Duct tape, and other necessities. Out the door by five and at the
race check-in by 5:40. It was time.
Loop One
The course consists of five 20-mile loops on
root covered single- and double-track trail, with very minimal elevation
change. Aid stations were about 3-4 miles apart, with a longer 6-mile gap
between mile 7 and 13. I set out in the dark with a hand-held flashlight to
guide my way until the sun rose. With the record number of entrants, over 300,
I wanted to insure I didn’t get bottled up early, so I took off at what I knew
was a bit faster than I wanted, but with the knowledge that I would settle in
once the sun came up. Good game plan in my head, but once light dawned on us, I
was running comfortably and feeling good, so I just ran. I held steady in the
second group of runners, with the leaders ahead of us, just out of sight.
Looking around, I recognized no faces, so I figured I was in good company…no
heavyweight in this group. We came through the Dam Road aid station at around
mile 13, and I refilled my Ultimate Direction hand-held with water, and dropped
a Nuun tablet in. This was to be my plan for the entire race as far as aid was
concerned: Always have a GU open in my hand, refill my bottle with water and a
Nuun tablet, and supplement with Heed, PBJ, Snickers, and chicken broth. As I
continued to run what I thought was a comfortable pace, I noticed that another
runner had joined our group: two-time defending Badwater 135 champion and the
defending Rocky Raccoon champion Jamie Donaldson. Suddenly realizing that I was
in elite company, I began to be a bit concerned with my pace, but still didn’t
look at my watch…I continued to run comfortably through the first loop,
enjoying the tidbits of knowledge I was gaining from my fellow runners, and
came to the clock in 2:48…uh oh…
Loop Two
I refilled my Spibelt with GU and Nuun, topped
off my water bottle and headed out with a roll of toilet paper for the
inevitable pit stop that was lurking in my bowels. With my goal time for the
first loop being between 3:10 and 3:20, I knew I was out waaaaay too fast. I
dropped off the pace a bit, and ran with Jamie for a few miles, as I could tell
she was also a bit uncomfortable with the initial pace. I figured that if I
could run loop two in 3:20 I might be ok. By mile 23, the bowels rang, and I
took the call. As I started back out, my quads felt unusually tight from the
crouching position, but I paid no mind and pressed on. Around mile 25, Jamie took
a devastating fall, and stayed down. Asking her if she was ok was pointless; it
was obvious she was in pain. I offered my assistance in helping her up, but she
simply encouraged me to press on, so off I went. I cruised fairly comfortably
through the aid stations, and by the time mile 33 came around, was still
feeling fairly confident in my pace. Then BAM! I soccer kicked a root. Now I
didn’t clip it, making me trip and stumble…I freaking kicked the crap out of
it. My big toe on my right foot screamed in agony, and I truly thought it was
broken. “Oh well,” I thought, “lets see if you can run on a broken toe”…So
without a pause I trucked on. As I came down the chute towards the clock, I was
thinking that my first goal was still attainable. I had learned from other
100-milers to make three goals for myself. Goal one was sub-18 hours, goal two
was sub-20, and goal three was to finish. I took a glance at the clock, and it
showed me at 5:50-something…uh oh…
Loop Three
Reality began to set in. My speed was putting me
in the top 5, but out of reality for the next 60 miles. I did the math, and if
I kept this clip, I would finish in around 15 hours. Now that would have been
great, but considering I am not Karl Meltzer, this was not going to happen. I
HAD to slow down, and I had to recover. Though fatigue was not setting in quite
yet, I knew that the inevitability lurked right around on of these trees, and
when it came, I had to be physically ready. I headed out after refilling my
bottle and pack, and created a game plan for the next two loops. I was going to
run the flats and downhills, and anything that even resembled an incline I was
going to power-walk. I began my plan and started to do work. My pace slowed
down, but that was fine…I knew it was necessary. I ate snickers and pbj’s, and
kept downing fluids, ensuring I was doing everything I could to prepare myself
for the inevitable. At some point in this loop, Jamie came and passed me…it was
good to see she was back on track and headed to a strong finish. I came to mile
53 feeling good, and feeling great about my new plan and how it was working. I
rolled comfortably in to the chute and checked the clock. I had slowed
considerably, and had gotten on track for a much more reasonable finish…goal
one was still in reach. However, something strange was beginning to happen…the
flat and fast course of the Rocky Raccoon was suddenly becoming a bit
difficult…the inclines were beginning to resemble hills…was this the inevitable
I had been waiting on? Not yet…
Loop four
I refilled as usual, grabbed my headlamp and a
jacket, hooked up with my pacer, and out we went. It was good to finally be
running with someone again. I told him of my new “plan”, and we began to do
work. I was feeling good, rolling along and BAM! I kicked a root again…with the
same foot…now the toe was numb already, but I really thought I felt the nail
come through the nail bed…too late to do anything about it, so we continued to
press on. Darkness came around mile 70, and with the darkness came cooler
temps, and chicken soup! I took down a cup at mile 73, and we continued to
press on, sticking to the plan. At mile 76(ish) there is an aid stop, the
fourth on the loop. I took down some more soup, headed down the trail, and
found what I had been waiting on for about 25-30 miles now…inevitability jumped
out of a tree and landed on my back…and it was heavy…I pressed on with the plan
and came through the chute at about 14:15…
Loop five
Goal one was out…goal two was still attainable,
but at this point it was not a guarantee. I was tired, both physically and
mentally. The speed of the first two loops was coming back to ruin me. I
refilled all my supplies and headed out, knowing I could be out there for a
while, but also knowing that I was going to finish. A DNF was not an option,
but was not a reality either. I knew that, even if the wheels came off
completely, I would get back to the clock. As we headed out, I told my pacer
that we were going to walk for a bit…I had to reformulate a strategy that would
work for the next 20 miles. So we walked…and walked…and walked. Now granted, it
was a power-walk, it was still a walk. Through aid station one, we walked.
Through aid station two, we walked. I got really cold, so I picked up a pair of
gloves and some hand warmers, and downed some soup. “Just keep moving forward.
John…keep moving forward…” I was very uncomfortable, and was growing weary.
“Finish John…keep moving forward…” At around mile 88, I passed two women who
were just chatting it up…obviously on their third or fourth loop. “How are
those quads?” they asked. I thought about it for a moment…”Actually, not too
bad…” Hmm…I really was feeling no muscular pain at all…my discomfort was from
my tendons and ligaments tightening up. All of a sudden it hit me…if my muscles
don’t hurt, and if I feel stiff, then running will loosen me up, and I should
feel better! So at mile 90, I picked up my feet and ran. I suddenly was warm,
and the discomfort, while still there, was not too bad. I realized that I had
to become comfortable with the pain, and press on towards the goal…and so I
did. I relished the radiating pain that extended from my toes up through my IT
bands and ran. At this point, I told my pacer not to tell me the time. I wanted
to run as hard and as fast as I could for the last 10 miles and see what
happened, unhindered by any self-made expectations. I wanted to run free with
my thoughts and with the discomfort, and press hard to the clock, safety be
damned. The last ten miles was a lesson in self-control…controlling my
God-given body within the constraints I have come to learn give me strength for
every day. I meditated on verses, and found myself more thankful and grateful
for the pain and the woods and the darkness and the experience than I had been
for anything in a while. I was thinking of my wife who was running the race
also, and offered up thanksgiving for her…I was thinking of the people who were
at that moment thinking of me, and offered thanksgiving for them…I was suddenly
humbled by all that was going on and the ability that was given to me to do
this, to be there, and wept for a moment…but just for a moment. The finishing
chute was upon me…one more turn and I was there. My pacer backed off and I came
to the clock running faster than I ever have in my life. I glanced at the clock:
19:12.
Epilogue
I crossed the line as most 100-mile finishers
do…spent. Joe Pruisaitis, the RD for the race, shook my hand, and I got my
buckle. That was that. My pacer and I collapsed in our lawn chairs, and I
proceeded to pass out immediately. I woke up a bit later and warmed up in a
nearby heated van, and awaited the arrival of my wife. At 22:39 on the clock
there came a runner with the most recognizable “whoo-hoo!” I have ever known.
My wife came through the finish ecstatic, and I rejoiced with her on her
success. After a few moments of taking it all in, we were in the car on the way
back to the hotel, ready for a few hours of sleep before the awards ceremony
and breakfast. As long as it took, through the months of training and the
hundreds of miles of preparation, through the pre-dawn start and the nighttime
finish, it was over.
I got my 100-mile finish. But I have more than
that. I have a confirmation that we enjoy sport and creation as few people get
to. We strip ourselves bare. We turn ourselves inside out. We suffer more
willingly and intensely and more chronically than most ever do. We experience
highs and lows within such a short span of time that most psychologists would
diagnose us as bi-polar at the least. For what? For a buckle? For a place on a
podium? For notoriety amongst our peers? No way…we do this to ourselves for way
more than that. We do it for a passion that is instilled in us the first time
we run on a trail…for a desire to see what is out there beyond the mental
constructs of what most think is possible…to achieve a goal that we set before
ourselves…to push our bodies harder and farther than the last time and see what
lies beyond the breaking point. And for this runner, to finish knowing that I
have given my best, unto the glory of God.
Thanks to all of my supporters, especially Rock/Creek and Fleet Feet Sports for
the race gear, Nuun and Hammer for keeping me hydrated, GU for the supplemental
energy, Ultimate Direction for making the best hand-held in the business,
Spibelt, and Drymax socks (blister-free, of course!), and David Elkin, my
pacer.
