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.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment