Chapter 4- Rain, Tornados, and the hour of doubt

Chapter 4- Rain, Tornadoes, and the hour of doubt...

Up to this point the heat had single hitch in a race that living up to everything that I had imagined was the heat. Never had I envisioned this race as being a "fun" experience. I anticipated intense physical pain and hoped I could escape without too much mental suffering; so far so good.

Although I have already detailed some of these same miles, I will now focus on bringing to life my internal dialogue that accompanied the darkening of the skies and the monsoon that followed. While I did not experience any visual hallucinations throughout the race, I did run into one "auditory oasis." As I made my way from somewhere around mile 26 in the midst of the heat, through to mile 47, I was accompanied by a frequent sound of cheering in the near distance. I would listen so very closely, thinking, "there is no way I am coming up to that aid station already, but I must be...I can hear the people." My oasis in the woods was never there. I learned by about mile 40 that the only dependable sign of an aid station were the good ol' dependable flamingos that the course had set out to mark aid stations.

This hallucinations didn't really get in my way, it took some serious adjusting when, each time, the aid station was not there. Heading out of mile 31 I was feeling great. I had a quick recharge from my team, and my legs felt great. I hit the trail aggressively, and at the unmanned aid station that came next I thought that I was four miles ahead of my real location. That was, when I figured it out 6 miles later, a real bummer. I was in this 6 mile stretch that I had two major disruptions in my race. First, I had been taking in so much sodium via tablets and hydration, that all I could think of was salt. It was making me go a bit mad. I wanted water more than anything else, and I had none on me, just salt filled, high calorie crap in my camel bladder. "Get me some frickin water!!!" was my mantra for the next 6 miles.

Well, I got some water. After clearing the first prairie section of the back part of the loop, I started hearing the first thunder and watched as the clouds moved in to the north west. They were big, fast, and black as night. There was one point that I reasoned that they may actually miss me entirely to the north. It should be pointed out that A) I am not a meteorologist, and B) I am a relentless optimist. My optimism was about to get a stiff test in resiliency.

The rain started while I was mid prairie. It started with a lightning show that came disturbingly close, and for the first time in my life, a funnel cloud that I watched pull out of the clouds. I was by myself, with no one in sight behind me, and a group of three about 3/4 of a mile ahead. When the little hook of a cloud that I'd been watching pulled out of the cloud to form its own funnel cloud, i thought, "HOLY SHIT! I think this is awesome, but I'm really not sure what the hell to do!" So I kept running. In fact, I sped up. I wanted to catch up with the group in front of me. I decided that the weather that was happening and clearly now on its way, would be better endured with other people.

It didn't take long to catch the group of 3 up ahead, they were moving slowly at the time. However, by the time I got there, the rains were pounding down on us relentlessly and the open prairie was filling with water...a lot of water!

Joining this group was almost the biggest mistake of the race for me. Immediately upon catching this group, I felt the intense sense of defeat and concern. By this time the water was literally up to mid-calf! Not puddles that deep, but a flooded prairie of water about 12 inches high for 3 miles. Everyone's feet were immediately turned to hamburger in this standing water. This, along with the lightening and pounding rain, made for a very apprehensive group of runners that I'd joined.

With three miles to run I decided to make light of the situation. I started talking about how crazy and fun this was, and even started singing some fun rain songs. With a little bump in enthusiasm from the group, I thought we were going to be okay. Then the word "quit" was spoken. What a word. Stronger than any word I can think of, it has the ability to spread like a cancer within yourself and others around you. Predictably, it went to work almost immediately. After about a mile I decided to split company and run ahead with one other guy from the group. Within a few hundred meters, I realized that he had joined me with very different motives. He didn't want to escape the bad vibes like I did, instead he wanted to run fast with me in order to reach the next aid station where he would be safe and could call it a race.

With the group it was pretty easy to ignore the thought of quitting, but alone with one other person who was contemplating quitting was much more difficult. He got to me. We talked about how impossible the course was going to be in the middle of the night. How it would be a definite injury risk that would all but guarantee some nasty injury. Phew! Now I was getting worried. I don't remember ever thinking that I was actually going to quit, but I did entertain the thought. He asked how people would get back to the race start, and I snapped out of it a bit. i told him that I had a race team with two or three cars and someone could get him back, but I was thinking about continuing.

Then I made it to Emma Carlin at mile 47. I was safe. The Vitalis' were still around, and everyone was huddled under some cover (truck lay downs from Adam's car) to attempt to stay dry. I rolled in and had this to say:


That's right, I mentioned only making it 50 miles. I don't know what I expected from Emily and everyone else, but I didn't expect the total rally that I was about to get. First there was Gary who simply blew off the notion of dropping out. Then Doug got me out of the rain into his car where we talked. The message was clear..."you can do this! Make it to at least 100k, then reevaluate."

Clearly the team did some fast talking while I was in the bathroom because they all had the same message. I got in the car with Emily and she reiterated even more emphatically, "you can do this! At least make it to 100k. You are looking way to strong to quit now!"

I had hung out as long as I could before getting too comfortable...I had to get moving. I was shivering cold, easily convinced to keep running, and ready to get going when I heard awesome news. Because of the dangerous conditions on the course, they were going to let pacers join the course whenever they wanted as long as they were physically able. I have a Gary...and he is physically able! So I put on Gary's 3/4 length tights to fight the cold and wet drastic change in weather, and hit the trail knowing that Gary was changing and catching up with me in the next couple of minutes. Race two was about to begin and I had made it past the biggest hurdle yet.

Chapter 3- The heat

Chapter 3- The heat

After all the bumps along the road, the race started better than I could have ever planned. It was a beautiful morning, I felt great, the race team of Gary, Doug, Emily and Spencer, and myself were all assembled and ready for whatever was about to come at us, and it was finally time to run. I knew that I never wanted to run faster than a 10-minute mile, and the first 10 miles or so I may have to keep myself in check. In reality, it was easy. I quickly settled in to my all day pace. I forget how much I love the trail running community. People talk about the comradery of marathons, and it is true…but they pale in comparison to the true nature and authenticity of trail running events.

The first 7.5 miles to Bluff aid station were perfect. My body felt great, I took my time, and Doug and Gary were pumped to see me when I pulled in right on cue. In fact, right on cue would become the theme of the race. Regardless of the mayhem that this day brought, my body managed (with the support of an INCREDIBLE TEAM) stay right on cue. At Bluff (7.5), I pulled in for my first pit stop with nothing to report. 7 minutes later I was filled up on food and fluids and back out.

Again, from Bluff to Emma Carlin (mile 16), it was still nothing out of the ordinary. It was heating up, but the whole section was in the woods, and I was staying on top of my electrolytes, food, and hydration early. Every thirty-minutes I would take one electrolyte replacement tablet. Once it got hotter, the plan was to fit in some extras.

Between Bluff and Emma Carlin sits an unmanned water station at Horseriders. When I popped out of the woods and saw the horses I got my first little mid-race rush. “I have been here on training runs and it is not that far from Emma.” I knew where I was and that somehow that felt good. After a quick stop at Emma I headed out for Hwy 67. And indeed, about an hour and a half later I saw Gary waiting barefoot in the woods and I knew that we were rolling up into Hwy 67 and for the first time, the whole team. Em and Spencer headed to the course during his morning nap and made it Hwy 67. To see them was fresh air. It made the heat feel cooler, my feet feel better, and my mind even more driven. I was so excited to have them see me feeling strong.

Then came the heat. From miles 16 (Emma Carlin) to 47 (Emma Carlin on the way back) there was about 16 miles of open prairie running and it was creeping over 90 degrees. This got tough. As I hit the prairie I was feeling good, but was definitely feeling the first signs of heat and that dangerous blanket of perceived exhaustion. In the open sun I took the cue from a couple of woman that I was leap frogging with and took my run down to a power-walk. This helped almost instantly. I got my legs back and the nausea that was creeping in subsided. As I hit the sauna that waited in the woods, I would open back into a jog, and of course, walked all of the hills (later in the race I learned/discovered my power-walk on the hills). I was draining Heed sports drink (provided on the course) pretty well, and drinking water at the unmanned aid stations, but food was getting near impossible to even look at. Gels, sandwiches, potatoes, etc… it all looked incredibly unappetizing. TOO HOT for eating!

I met some great people along this stretch. Everyone was struggling with the heat and it seemed that a little conversation was even more welcome than normal. I met a woman who owns a bed and breakfast in WI, a woman here from Australia just for the race, a 51-year-old guy who was the best conversation I had the whole race (until Gary), and more than anyone, I had plenty of time with myself. My mind was flowing very freely and I had no desire for music at all. In fact, I would not listen to even one song through the entire 100 miles. When I am training, I differentiate good days from bad by how much music I listen to on my run. The less music I need, the better the run.

After what felt like hours, I finally hit Scuppemong, the turn-around point for the first 100k. I pulled in at 12:54pm; 6 hours and 54 minutes into the race, I was done with the first 31 miles. That was a little hard to stomach. I had trained longer than this with no race support and a backpack with 48oz of fluid. However, never had any of my training runs happened in anything close to this heat. I hit Scuppemong, got some of that much need team love, stripped off my outer shorts, and headed back to the race start. The next few miles back to Hwy 67 were a bit tough on my head. It was hot but I was a running well. However, I thought County ZZ (unmanned aid station) was going to be Hwy 67…it was not, but I quickly shook it off and added some pace to my trot. The heat was dropping a bit, the breeze was picking up, I felt a light sprinkle every now and then, and…still… I was feeling good. In fact, Before realizing that County ZZ was not Hwy 67 I almost pulle dout my cel phone just to call the team to tell them how good I was feeling. Right then, I got hit with the reality of my five-mile blunder. When I finally did roll into hwy 67 I knew the race was about to turn somehow. I didn’t understand how, but it was in the air.

The team, as usual was incredible! Everyone talked about how strong I looked and how so many people came in looking rough and dropping out. I wasn’t sure how much I believed them (I later learned it was very true), but it still felt good to know that I was feeling strong overall, and there was nothing inside even considering dropping out. I would leave each aid station feeling like a new runner. This was the first station that I spent a bit of time with Doug and Gary. Gary spent the time figuring out how to get calories into me, and Doug went to work keeping my feet from becoming hamburger. From here on, at each stop, Doug took my socks off, greased between each toe, and talked to me about anything and everything that I was feeling in my body. He started me on a capsule of Sportenine each stop (endurance sport homeopathic) and homeopathies for both nausea and diarrhea. Gary (he doesn’t know this…yet) brought me a couple of potatoes to shove into my stomach…well, Gary…when I went to the porta-potty to unload some lingering diarrhea, into the hole went over half of the potatoes. I just couldn’t do it.

The talk of the stations and even more, on the course, was the dread of having to go back through the prairie in even hotter afternoon sun. I did my best not think about it. I managed to rally myself around the high that the team left me with and the fact that overall, I still felt great! With this new energy I headed back into the now slightly cooler heat, and eventually right back into the belly of the prairie. But then, as I was getting ready to pull out (after throwing ANOTHER potato down the hole-of-no-return) our good friends and current neighbors, the Vitals’ popped out of the car. It was an awesome surprise! I was at a point where I didn’t even realize that a special lift was exactly what I needed. And had I known what I was about to head into…I would have realized just how clutch the Vitalis visit was. Not only did they find me just in the knick of time, but they caught me at the next stop as well; the most pivotal stop of the race.

Why was the next stop the most pivotal? Because of what would happen between leaving Hwy 67 and arriving back at Emma Carlin 8 miles later.

Good news: The temperature kept dropping.
Bad news: Well…we got wet. Very, very wet.

Chapter 2- “Trust Fibonacci my friend…now go for a run!”

Chapter 2- “Trust Fibonacci my friend…now go for a run!”

A brief word on Fibonacci and training:

My training, regardless of the event and specific training program, is superimposed with a cycle of train vs. rest based on theories relating Fibonacci’s Number/Golden Ratio. This ratio is discussed in terms of training cycles and the bodies natural biorhythms in a book, Consistent Winning: A Remarkable New Training System That Lets You Peak on Demand by Ronald D. Sandler and Dennis D. Lobstein. Doug (aka Dr. Doug or Doppler Doug) brought this book to my attention about two years ago and I haven’t turned back since. The basic premise of the program is to time your work out days with rest days in a ratio that matches Fibonacci’s Number. This will result in a “peak” performance on race day…REALLY…it will! The ratio training begins 81 days out from race day and follows a sequence into the final 21 days, 7 days, and finally 3 days. Everyone is familiar with the feeling you get some days that says, “holy cow! I feel great today!” That is the feeling this leaves you with on race day.

4:01am Saturday June 7, 2008:

When the disco music played through my cell phone, I had been asleep for around 4 hours. This easily matched the sleep I had gotten the past few nights. I was expecting something of a fever or a last a nasty flu hangover. What I had was 97.6 and a feeling of total euphoria. It was race day. Doug peeled himself off his sleeping mat, Gary and I crawled out of our motel beds, and each of felt the same thing…Game on. It was an energy that I can’t put into words. A feeling shared by three competitors, believers in our bodies, and believers in the healing energy that friendship brings. With a good morning call to Em, the circle was complete; our race team was ready for 100 miles.

As we were getting ready to leave the motel and head to the race start, Gary breathed a final sigh of relief and told me, “You know we couldn’t have let you run with that fever. No one could say that yesterday, but that kind of fever could kill you on a racecourse. But I knew you were going to break it. Today is going to kick ass!”

Doug looked me in the eyes and asked, “Are you surprised?”

“About my fever? No, I knew it would break after you said you were coming to the motel,” I said with a humble confidence.

Then, like only Doug can do, he turned my appreciation into an unparalleled confidence, “I just brought some herbs, but you have to remember that you trained for today, for today Luke, not yesterday. Trust Fibonacci my friend…now go for a run.”

Race Start:



Race start was exactly what I expected. Anyone reading this that has experienced racing, whether it be 100 miles or a 5k, you know this rush. For those of you reading this that thrive on this moment like I do…you not only know this rush, but you chase it and embrace it every opportunity you get.

To combat some of the negative stomach effects this rush can bring, Dr. Doug kept looking at me, laughing with Gary about my energy, and asking me to open wide while he slid a dropper of rescue remedy under my tongue.

Timmo and Jason, the absolutely incredible race directors gave the race briefing at 5:55am. This was it. It was such a high, that right now, exactly two weeks later writing this, I am high just from the memory. Timmo warned us all of the heat that may be coming, the rain that “could” follow, and how to read the marking on the course (which according to Gary was the best flagged course he has ever been on), and then he got us ready to go.

The finals butterflies floated around in my stomach; that guys calves are twice the size of mine, all these people have gators around their shoes…am I going to be screwed without them, oh my gosh! THE FURTHEST I HAVE EVER RUN IS 38 MILES! “Runners ready? GO!!!” (38 miles…really. which, out of pure fear of 100 miles, I may have exaggerated to some of you)

Chapter 1- 102.4... The fever that tried to sideline me.

Chapter 1- 102.4∞- The fever that tried to sideline me.

Playing hooky from school was the best choice on Friday. Gary was flying in at 7:45am and planned to be meeting Emily at the airport. This, of course, would not due. I managed to pull a “sick” day and tag along with Em to pick up our Canadian counterpart. The surprise attack was easy; I crouch in the back on the floor and jump out to surprise Gary…FOR 15 MINUTES! Once Gary was finally coming towards the car, I was more than ready to get out of the fetal position. While Em and Gary were hugging I slowly pushed the back door open and made my way awkwardly out of the car. The reason to tell this entire story is this: Gary saw the backdoor opening slowly and actually thought, “Wow! Spencer is already car doors from his seat, that’s pretty advanced.”

Friday with Gary:

Friday was half good and half awful. After getting back to Madison and settling in with short naps, we made our way to the Arboretum to have a quick run and show Gary my home court. It was hot! But, we had a great run and Gary was more than impressed with our little trail system in the middle of the city. Lunchtime. It is hard to come to Madison and not enjoy some of our excellent Southwest/Mexican food. The top of the heap is definitely the Eldorado Grill on Willy street, or for faster chow you can gorge at Tex Tubb;s Taco Palace or Pasqual’s. We hit up some good Mexican food with the sole intention of beginning the pre-race gorging of food. But then…

Sometime between the run and the third bite of my burrito, the small cold that I’d been fighting for two days began a downward spiral into a feverish flu. By the time we picked up Spencer at 3 I was feeling achy all over and couldn’t believe what was happening. At 4:30 I took my temperature and almost lost my mind when I saw 101.8∞. Quickly I was on the phone with Doug and Jenny asking the only couple I’ve met with the ability to make such things disappear, how to make it do just that. Within 10 minutes I was drinking hot ginger tea, wearing heavy sweats, and in bed beneath two down comforters. After twenty minutes I finally broke a sweat, announcing to Emily…”I’m Sweating!!!”

While the sweat gave me temporary relief, it did not find it’s way to the roots of my fever. I took an hour and a half nap, got up, put Spencer to sleep, and loaded the car to head to the motel. Nobody was really discussing the question of “what if.” What if I wake up with this fever? What if I start vomiting? What if I can’t run the race?

At 8pm Gary got our good luck kisses from Em (I think Gary got a bigger kiss than meJ), and headed to the motel about an hour and a half away. On the trip, Gary got the distinct pleasure of seeing other sides of Wisconsin. Outside of Fort Atkinson, we made a pit stop at Piggly Wiggly. First of all, for those non-Wisconsinites, the Pig is a grocery store, and this particular Pig has…wait for it… wait for it… you guessed it, carpet. Gary was beside himself as he walked the carpet-lined isles of the Pig. As we headed down the road away from the Pig Gary caught rural WI secret number two: a license plate that read, “McCain till the death.” Oh the multiple layers of irony and entertainment in 4 simple words.

THIS IS GETTING LONG….

At the rustic motel my temperature persisted. In fact, it climbed to a constant 102.4. At 9pm Doug called to get a feel for how I was feeling and where my head was at the moment. After a brief conversation Doug was in his car and headed to our motel. While I felt selfish saying yes to his offer to come and help drop the fever, I knew that it was my last ditch effort to race. For the next hour fifteen, Gary and I settled in to the Family Guy and tried to forget about everything….Yeah, that didn’t work. I was up down and sideways trying to focus on packing my bags, eating some food (which I had been unable to do for the majority of the afternoon and evening), and preparing my mind for anything. Emily and I were staying in regular contact and I could tell she felt a certain ease and comfort knowing that Doug was on his way and Gary was there.

At 11pm the good doctor walked into our room bearing his bag of Chinese treats. He went right to work mixing me a drink with Ban lan gen. I prepared for a nasty taste and was delighted with a sweet enough disguise. He then placed two “ear seeds“ on each ear stimulating points that encourage a drop in body temperature. One last text goodnight to my Emily and Off to bed!

I laid awake for about 25 minutes concentrating on a wonderful energy in the room and in my body. I felt many things working together to break my fever. It was almost a out-of-body feeling. Then at about 20 minutes, I felt “it”, something pushed the fever right out of me and I KNEW I would be racing in about 6 hours. I slept 4 of the best hours of my life.

4am…97.6…Race Day

A reader's guide to my 100 miles

It takes a while to run 100 miles, however, it pales in comparison to how long it takes to write about the experience. Capturing the physical journey alone is a daunting challenge, but if I manage to even crack the surface of the emotional experience, I will be surprised. So, consider this a warning…this blog may get carried away. I am going to make a concerted effort to contain each section as best I can. Here is a list of Chapters that may help navigate to an area of interest before setting off on the endurance event of reading this nonsense.

Chapter 1- 102.4∞- The fever that tried to sideline me.

Chapter 2- “Trust Fibonacci my friend…now go for a run!”

Chapter 3- The Heat

Chapter 4- Rain, Tornados, and the hour of doubt

Chapter 5/6- The next 50 miles and thoughts on Team Laga