I have finally finished my race blog over one month later. It is broken into 6 sections that are presented in reverse order. To get the full story (feel no need), scroll down to A readers guide then go section by section working back to the top post.
I hope you enjoy. I didn't do too much editing, it was time to get it posted.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Chapters 5/6- the next 50 miles and Team Laga
Making it out of the mile 47 aid station was absolutely clutch. Gary was changing and on his way to meet me, I was mentally through the toughest decision that I would face, and my body somehow was feeling great. In fact, I was running at a very steady pace without any complaints from my body or mind. I knew that Gary was minutes away from catching up to me and that was so exciting. And sure enough, 33 minutes into the section Gary bellowed, “LLLLLLLUUUUUUKKKKKKKKEEEE!” Race two was about to begin. Gary and I, because of the weather and resulting dangerous course conditions, were about to go for a 50 mile run together instead of the planned 38.
I have to go to one extreme or the other for these next 50 miles. I either write about every pain, every rush, every Doug pit stop, every drop of rain, every time Gary took a crap in the woods (this alone would take pages), and every feeling of total awe…or I
cut to the chase. Be it that it is already 4 weeks to the day since I finished the race, I think I will cut try to the chase and end up talking too much as usual.
Team Laga- Where else could I begin? Emily and Spencer slipped back to the hotel at some point. I remember saying goodnight and knowing that I wouldn’t see them until I potentially finished this beast, but it wasn’t until the first stop that they weren’t there that I missed them and realized that it was time to get down to the job of finishing this race for us. Emily ended up being awake most of the night fielding and sending text messages to a wide range of family and friends. She has put together an awesome transcript of it that I will include in it’s own chapter. I saw them again in the morning with only 7.5 miles to and really, for the first time, let myself feel the excitement of finishing. I was well into my 4th consecutive marathon and I was feeling better than the first.
Doug was the blessing and surprise of the race. I knew that Emily, Spencer and Gary were going to be nothing short of incredible. I
had no idea that it would all come together as incredibly as it did, but they have been in my life for a long time (or in Spencer’s case. I have been in his life since the first second) and I have come to expect the impossible out of each of them. Doug however, wow, he and I have a friendship that is 
forever changed because of this race. Neither of us expected the race to take on such a unified feel. He endured anything I stuck in his face. Really, check out some of the pictures of my feet…Doug took them all!
When Doug made the decision to come and help my fever break at 11pm the night before, he also defined and solidified his role on the team. He was not just going to be the guy working his acupuncture magic; he was going to be the ambassador of all things good, the meteorologist, the medicine doctor, …really…our own portable Zen master.
I have never trusted
anyone in my life with the health and well-being of my body than I do Doug. He is a gifted and unique healer whom I am truly blessed to have crossed paths with. At each and every crew stop, Doug would be waiting, bright green chair at the ready, to listen to me talk about my body, and then just listen to what my body had to say. What impressed me most was his ability to give me the benefit of the doubt over what he potentially heard my body saying. It was a confidence the he helped me embrace that spoke to the true strength of the mind’s role in maintaining a strong and obedient body. An obedient body…I like that. As each mile paced behind me, the thing I kept coming back to was, “how is my body doing this? It is doing absolutely everything I ask it to do!”
Doug stretched me thoroughly, graced me with gut-saving homeopathics, and worked my feet on a regular basis. He would remove my shoes and socks, dry my feet, grease between each toe, and a couple of times add some type of blister pad to pressure spots on my big toes. He mostly kept a careful eye on them and kept them as clean as you can keep feet that
are running through constant rain and mud (and at time totally submerged). Only once did Doug whip out the needles during the race. I think it was mile 69.5 when I told him that my left shin (Tibialis anterior) was very tight but not cramping. He asked if I wanted a couple of needles to loosen them up…Uh Yeh! I remember him working on both. Mostly what I remember however was the total elation I felt of having two brand new legs under me. The following 30+ miles were by far the best of the entire race (with miles 50-70 coming in a close second). In 100 miles I had only one insignificant foot cramp (miles 93-100)…1 cramp in 100 miles!
If it isn’t clear, allow me to make it clear…I will not ever be able to say enough about Doug Bertram. As an acupuncturist and a friend, he is a chance encounter that has changed my life. Thank you. And from miles away in Milwaukee there was Jenny Bertram, whose presence on the team and healing hands were felt for each of the 100 miles as though she was right there. Thank you!
*If any competitive athlete, or sufferer of chronic pain is curious about the work Doug and Jenny do, I could write a book on what they have done for my family alone. Best though would be to hear it from them. Contact me for there info. l_laga@hotmail.com
As praise and sap seem to be the driving vehicle for the remaining chunk of this blog, as they were for the latter part of the race…why stop now…
Gary Robbins-
I have rambled on in this blog in the past about this overly lazy and incredibly out-of-shape Neanderthal, so I will get to the race. Gary played a major role prior to him even hitting the course with me at mile 47.5. He played the role of, “just eat this and don’t think about it…okay, you can’t look at it without throwing up, well, drink this before I see you next. It is a mix with 1300 calories.” Gary, with his decree that he would fly to WI to run with me, fueled my last three months of training and gave me the confidence I needed to even conceive the task ahead. On the course, this sharing of confidence continued, and grew into an even larger coaching role.
As I approached each aid station Gary
would be out in the woods a couple of hundred meters to meet me. Usually barefoot, he would trot his way back to the aid station next to me, pouring out words of praise for how I was looking and how ragged some of the other racers looked coming out of the heat/rain. He would listen to how I was feeling, ask how much I drank and ate, then tell me that Doug was
waiting and ready. The stops that I was lucky enough to see Emily and Spencer were the best! I would hear Emily’s cheer before I saw her every time. She would be telling Spen
cer that Daddy was coming, and helping him clap as I took him in my arms. I would spend 30 seconds with the two of them before hitting the chair with Doug. Once I was in the chair, Gary would pop up like a gnome, bringing me food, Coke, and anything else he could persuade me to put down. He would then go over the plan for the next section, and finally tell me the timetable for taking my electrolyte tablets (usually 1-2 every 30 minutes).
Once on the course with me, Gary took careful note to my lack of consumption and forced me to find something that I could put down that was solid. I found it in an old friend…Ramon noodles. These noodles that once bonded Gary and I while living together on a Caribbean Island, once again became the nastiest source of all-things-good. I loved them like they were the freshest cut sashimi I’d ever tasted. After every two full cups of Ramon, Gary would hand me a can of Coke to drain before we hit back out. We got in a groove quickly.
“Get to Doug. Get Ramen. Get a Coke. Get your ass back out there!”
As we left each station, Doug would have me open my mouth and he’d pop a Sportenine tablet in (check them out, an endurance athletes one stop homeopathic). The first four miles after an aid station felt phenomenal.
After that, I would pull back for a mile or two, and then it was back to feeling pretty good. Gary on the other…well, aside from being the strongest athlete I’ve EVER been around, had an issue or two of his own. At first I thought that he really wanted to see as much of WI as possible every time he would run off the trail into the woods. And then I put together the timing of his trips into the woods and this crazy explosion that I kept hearing in the woods. Gary had some nasty gut problems! We figure that he took AT LEAST 20 of those trips in the 53 miles together. I’ll get to the punch line in a second, but first I have to brag about Gary some more. As one who suffers from a finicky stomach that reacts to many things, I was amazed that Gary, while clearly being in some GI pain (at one point his 6-pack stomach looked like he had a solid WI beer gut he was so grossly bloated), never complained once about his issues. He had them, they sucked, he took a trip in the woods, caught up with me, and life went on. Dude, this guy is for real!
It turns out, Gary being a Celiac (allergic to wheat), was unaware that Heed sports drink contained, as the second ingredient, maltodextrin, and was the source of his now discovered allergic reaction. He was aware that is, until mile 95. At the waffle and sausage station (the final station before the finish), we ran into a woman who was also not eating a waffle because she too suffered a wheat allergy. When she expressed her displeasure with the course only having Heed, and having to carry her own Gatorade because of the Maltodextrin, Gary’s jaw dropped to the ground. So, for the final five miles, he drank water.
The middle of the night brought my best running. From 11-3 I was on fire. I felt so great I could not believe the response I was getting from my body. I wanted to run. Gary took
so much time with me on the course to teach new techniques that, training and running alone, I had never acquired. I learned how 
to effectively power walk hills…quickly, I learned/discovered how to convince my body that it was not in extreme pain, and most importantly, I learned that what doing naturally, was pretty damned sound. We talked about running, racing, women and drinking. We laughed about our time living next door to one another on Roatan. We admired Emily over and over and over. We created dreams for Spencer…then changed them…then changed them again. We sang old 80s rock ballads like Pour some sugar on me. But primarily, we put one foot in front of the other at a reasonable pace.
At 3 am, just as Gary warned, I hit a wall and total exhaustion set in. Not a physical exhaustion like I expected, but an unforgiving tiredness. Of course this wall hit in the middle of the Hwy 12- Rice Lake section. This was both good and bad. The bad part was that this section, at night, in continued thunderstorms, presented itself as the toughest section of the course. The good part was…I was ready for this. I had trained this section a number of times. In fact, one Saturday morning at 5am I ran repeats of this challenging 9-mile loop just to conquer my fear of it. It is not terrible by day, in fact, aside from endless up and down hills with shady footing, it is really quite beautiful. However, in the middle of the night, relying on a headlamp and tired eyes, it was as tough as I had planned. For an hour, from 3-4am, I struggled with my footing, making lazy choices and getting lucky not to pay any real consequences. But, never closing my eyes, and knowing exactly where I was at every step thanks to long hours training, I never panicked. And, oh yeh, Gary kept singing those F*@^ing 80s songs as loudly as possible. Thank you for that hour my friend!
When we saw Doug back at Hwy 12, we all knew it.
We knew that we were going to finish this beast. By that time I had heard the rumors that this race had seen more attrition than ever before. People dropped in the heat early, and kept dropping as the thunderstorms came in and pounded the course. I don’t know how I was not one of the almost 100 DNFs, because I know they were just as prepared as I was. I just kept thinking, “Everyone needs a Doug. Everyone needs a Gary. And, everyone needs an Emily and Spencer!”
Doug knew we had it, and I could sense it in his energy. Getting to Doug got to be a game for Gary and I. Coming into Hwy 12 the first time, we were so pumped because we knew we ran the previous 7.5 miles faster than Doug would have anticipated, and we couldn’t wait to sneak up to his car and wake him up. Leaving Hwy 12 for the last time, it was just so great to know that with 15 left (over a half-marathon), we had a walk in the park to go…it was just a big park.
Every time I spoke of feeling great and finishing Gary was quick to remind me that there was a lot of trail left to run. It was helpful to be reminded of this, especially when those thoughts began shortly after the 100k mark, with 38 miles remaining.
Gary made sure that I enjoyed the good feeling while I had it; he just kept me focused on the moment, rather than getting ahead of myself. This was not only helpful, it was a wonderful lesson in enjoying each moment of race. I found as the race went on and the small pains became increasingly more intense, it was best for me to focus on my running and just forget about “getting past” the pain. If the pain hung around for a while, it was okay because I could still run. If the pain went away quickly, I usually didn’t notice its absence because I could still run. I found a good place, and hope that I can find it in the future many times!
As the sun rose, again, just as Gary promised, my body fooled itself into thinking that it was time to be awake. With 15 miles left, the tiredness was over and I was back on a high. Gary began a paradigm shift and let me start flirting with the idea of the finish line. We didn’t spend much time on the thought, but we let it float in and out of conversation and create some great energy. At this point the pace was quicker and the up hills were powered through more aggressively than they had been yet. With 7.5 miles to go, we were delighted to see the whole team together one last time before the finish. Emily and Spencer were up and cheering, Doug was laughing at our energy and smiles, and we were ready to give a couple hugs, high fives and hit the road. Now Gary let me pull out all of the stops. I ran the up hills if I felt like it, I ran the down hills aggressively if my feet could handle it. I had earned this 7.5-mile run more than I anything, aside from my happy marriage, I had ever worked for.
The trails were absolute slop at this point. Many of the single-track was up to 2 inches of slushy mud with every step. It was in these last several miles that I past some of the most inspirational runners I have ever been on course with. I past 12 people in the final 15 miles, some of them running, some walking, and some getting to the finish with nothing left but guts and courage. As Gary and I ran past these true competitors fueled by something from deep within them, I could not help but be inspired. These were runners who, on any other given day, could and would run circles around me. But for today, something caught them; some force of nature beyond their control, some force of the body that picked this day to rear it’s nasty head, some unknown tried to beat them down. The difference between a regular person and these competitors is that they were not beaten. They dug a hole so deep within themselves to find strength that most of us will know, find or experience. They were going to finish this race! On another day they may have finished this 100 miles in the top 10, maybe with a course record, and although they will not take home a coveted belt buckle today, they will take home the pride of finishing a race that gave them no chance to finish.
*To the man at mile 97 who we ran past and startled out of a world of your own; thank you for showing me what true perseverance is. You were walking with a limp, almost dragging your body over the terrain, and you sir brought the first tear to my eye of the entire race. I knew you would finish, however, what I did not know was just how many miles you had spent in this other world. I hope you enjoy this finish as much as you have enjoyed past victories. On most people’s best day they would never even consider a race like this. For those of us who do, there are still only a very unique few who have what it takes to finish it on a day that stacked everything against them. For some reason you had that day, and still you beat it down. Congratulations.
With 1 mile to go, 27 hours after it began, Gary and I stopped to take a photo. A moment I will never forget…
And then it was over…
Emily, Spencer, Doug, Gary and myself…Team Laga! It was sometime around mile 50 that I realized that I was just one person a five-person team; no more or less important than any other member. My job was to be the vehicle, and to never let that vehicle stop going forward. Thank you to my team, who kept that vehicle working and pointed in the right direction.
I have to go to one extreme or the other for these next 50 miles. I either write about every pain, every rush, every Doug pit stop, every drop of rain, every time Gary took a crap in the woods (this alone would take pages), and every feeling of total awe…or I
cut to the chase. Be it that it is already 4 weeks to the day since I finished the race, I think I will cut try to the chase and end up talking too much as usual.Team Laga- Where else could I begin? Emily and Spencer slipped back to the hotel at some point. I remember saying goodnight and knowing that I wouldn’t see them until I potentially finished this beast, but it wasn’t until the first stop that they weren’t there that I missed them and realized that it was time to get down to the job of finishing this race for us. Emily ended up being awake most of the night fielding and sending text messages to a wide range of family and friends. She has put together an awesome transcript of it that I will include in it’s own chapter. I saw them again in the morning with only 7.5 miles to and really, for the first time, let myself feel the excitement of finishing. I was well into my 4th consecutive marathon and I was feeling better than the first.
Doug was the blessing and surprise of the race. I knew that Emily, Spencer and Gary were going to be nothing short of incredible. I
had no idea that it would all come together as incredibly as it did, but they have been in my life for a long time (or in Spencer’s case. I have been in his life since the first second) and I have come to expect the impossible out of each of them. Doug however, wow, he and I have a friendship that is 
forever changed because of this race. Neither of us expected the race to take on such a unified feel. He endured anything I stuck in his face. Really, check out some of the pictures of my feet…Doug took them all!When Doug made the decision to come and help my fever break at 11pm the night before, he also defined and solidified his role on the team. He was not just going to be the guy working his acupuncture magic; he was going to be the ambassador of all things good, the meteorologist, the medicine doctor, …really…our own portable Zen master.
I have never trusted
anyone in my life with the health and well-being of my body than I do Doug. He is a gifted and unique healer whom I am truly blessed to have crossed paths with. At each and every crew stop, Doug would be waiting, bright green chair at the ready, to listen to me talk about my body, and then just listen to what my body had to say. What impressed me most was his ability to give me the benefit of the doubt over what he potentially heard my body saying. It was a confidence the he helped me embrace that spoke to the true strength of the mind’s role in maintaining a strong and obedient body. An obedient body…I like that. As each mile paced behind me, the thing I kept coming back to was, “how is my body doing this? It is doing absolutely everything I ask it to do!”Doug stretched me thoroughly, graced me with gut-saving homeopathics, and worked my feet on a regular basis. He would remove my shoes and socks, dry my feet, grease between each toe, and a couple of times add some type of blister pad to pressure spots on my big toes. He mostly kept a careful eye on them and kept them as clean as you can keep feet that
are running through constant rain and mud (and at time totally submerged). Only once did Doug whip out the needles during the race. I think it was mile 69.5 when I told him that my left shin (Tibialis anterior) was very tight but not cramping. He asked if I wanted a couple of needles to loosen them up…Uh Yeh! I remember him working on both. Mostly what I remember however was the total elation I felt of having two brand new legs under me. The following 30+ miles were by far the best of the entire race (with miles 50-70 coming in a close second). In 100 miles I had only one insignificant foot cramp (miles 93-100)…1 cramp in 100 miles!If it isn’t clear, allow me to make it clear…I will not ever be able to say enough about Doug Bertram. As an acupuncturist and a friend, he is a chance encounter that has changed my life. Thank you. And from miles away in Milwaukee there was Jenny Bertram, whose presence on the team and healing hands were felt for each of the 100 miles as though she was right there. Thank you!
*If any competitive athlete, or sufferer of chronic pain is curious about the work Doug and Jenny do, I could write a book on what they have done for my family alone. Best though would be to hear it from them. Contact me for there info. l_laga@hotmail.com
As praise and sap seem to be the driving vehicle for the remaining chunk of this blog, as they were for the latter part of the race…why stop now…
Gary Robbins-
I have rambled on in this blog in the past about this overly lazy and incredibly out-of-shape Neanderthal, so I will get to the race. Gary played a major role prior to him even hitting the course with me at mile 47.5. He played the role of, “just eat this and don’t think about it…okay, you can’t look at it without throwing up, well, drink this before I see you next. It is a mix with 1300 calories.” Gary, with his decree that he would fly to WI to run with me, fueled my last three months of training and gave me the confidence I needed to even conceive the task ahead. On the course, this sharing of confidence continued, and grew into an even larger coaching role.As I approached each aid station Gary
would be out in the woods a couple of hundred meters to meet me. Usually barefoot, he would trot his way back to the aid station next to me, pouring out words of praise for how I was looking and how ragged some of the other racers looked coming out of the heat/rain. He would listen to how I was feeling, ask how much I drank and ate, then tell me that Doug was
waiting and ready. The stops that I was lucky enough to see Emily and Spencer were the best! I would hear Emily’s cheer before I saw her every time. She would be telling Spen
cer that Daddy was coming, and helping him clap as I took him in my arms. I would spend 30 seconds with the two of them before hitting the chair with Doug. Once I was in the chair, Gary would pop up like a gnome, bringing me food, Coke, and anything else he could persuade me to put down. He would then go over the plan for the next section, and finally tell me the timetable for taking my electrolyte tablets (usually 1-2 every 30 minutes).Once on the course with me, Gary took careful note to my lack of consumption and forced me to find something that I could put down that was solid. I found it in an old friend…Ramon noodles. These noodles that once bonded Gary and I while living together on a Caribbean Island, once again became the nastiest source of all-things-good. I loved them like they were the freshest cut sashimi I’d ever tasted. After every two full cups of Ramon, Gary would hand me a can of Coke to drain before we hit back out. We got in a groove quickly.
“Get to Doug. Get Ramen. Get a Coke. Get your ass back out there!”
As we left each station, Doug would have me open my mouth and he’d pop a Sportenine tablet in (check them out, an endurance athletes one stop homeopathic). The first four miles after an aid station felt phenomenal.
After that, I would pull back for a mile or two, and then it was back to feeling pretty good. Gary on the other…well, aside from being the strongest athlete I’ve EVER been around, had an issue or two of his own. At first I thought that he really wanted to see as much of WI as possible every time he would run off the trail into the woods. And then I put together the timing of his trips into the woods and this crazy explosion that I kept hearing in the woods. Gary had some nasty gut problems! We figure that he took AT LEAST 20 of those trips in the 53 miles together. I’ll get to the punch line in a second, but first I have to brag about Gary some more. As one who suffers from a finicky stomach that reacts to many things, I was amazed that Gary, while clearly being in some GI pain (at one point his 6-pack stomach looked like he had a solid WI beer gut he was so grossly bloated), never complained once about his issues. He had them, they sucked, he took a trip in the woods, caught up with me, and life went on. Dude, this guy is for real!It turns out, Gary being a Celiac (allergic to wheat), was unaware that Heed sports drink contained, as the second ingredient, maltodextrin, and was the source of his now discovered allergic reaction. He was aware that is, until mile 95. At the waffle and sausage station (the final station before the finish), we ran into a woman who was also not eating a waffle because she too suffered a wheat allergy. When she expressed her displeasure with the course only having Heed, and having to carry her own Gatorade because of the Maltodextrin, Gary’s jaw dropped to the ground. So, for the final five miles, he drank water.
The middle of the night brought my best running. From 11-3 I was on fire. I felt so great I could not believe the response I was getting from my body. I wanted to run. Gary took
so much time with me on the course to teach new techniques that, training and running alone, I had never acquired. I learned how 
to effectively power walk hills…quickly, I learned/discovered how to convince my body that it was not in extreme pain, and most importantly, I learned that what doing naturally, was pretty damned sound. We talked about running, racing, women and drinking. We laughed about our time living next door to one another on Roatan. We admired Emily over and over and over. We created dreams for Spencer…then changed them…then changed them again. We sang old 80s rock ballads like Pour some sugar on me. But primarily, we put one foot in front of the other at a reasonable pace.At 3 am, just as Gary warned, I hit a wall and total exhaustion set in. Not a physical exhaustion like I expected, but an unforgiving tiredness. Of course this wall hit in the middle of the Hwy 12- Rice Lake section. This was both good and bad. The bad part was that this section, at night, in continued thunderstorms, presented itself as the toughest section of the course. The good part was…I was ready for this. I had trained this section a number of times. In fact, one Saturday morning at 5am I ran repeats of this challenging 9-mile loop just to conquer my fear of it. It is not terrible by day, in fact, aside from endless up and down hills with shady footing, it is really quite beautiful. However, in the middle of the night, relying on a headlamp and tired eyes, it was as tough as I had planned. For an hour, from 3-4am, I struggled with my footing, making lazy choices and getting lucky not to pay any real consequences. But, never closing my eyes, and knowing exactly where I was at every step thanks to long hours training, I never panicked. And, oh yeh, Gary kept singing those F*@^ing 80s songs as loudly as possible. Thank you for that hour my friend!
When we saw Doug back at Hwy 12, we all knew it.
We knew that we were going to finish this beast. By that time I had heard the rumors that this race had seen more attrition than ever before. People dropped in the heat early, and kept dropping as the thunderstorms came in and pounded the course. I don’t know how I was not one of the almost 100 DNFs, because I know they were just as prepared as I was. I just kept thinking, “Everyone needs a Doug. Everyone needs a Gary. And, everyone needs an Emily and Spencer!”Doug knew we had it, and I could sense it in his energy. Getting to Doug got to be a game for Gary and I. Coming into Hwy 12 the first time, we were so pumped because we knew we ran the previous 7.5 miles faster than Doug would have anticipated, and we couldn’t wait to sneak up to his car and wake him up. Leaving Hwy 12 for the last time, it was just so great to know that with 15 left (over a half-marathon), we had a walk in the park to go…it was just a big park.
Every time I spoke of feeling great and finishing Gary was quick to remind me that there was a lot of trail left to run. It was helpful to be reminded of this, especially when those thoughts began shortly after the 100k mark, with 38 miles remaining.
Gary made sure that I enjoyed the good feeling while I had it; he just kept me focused on the moment, rather than getting ahead of myself. This was not only helpful, it was a wonderful lesson in enjoying each moment of race. I found as the race went on and the small pains became increasingly more intense, it was best for me to focus on my running and just forget about “getting past” the pain. If the pain hung around for a while, it was okay because I could still run. If the pain went away quickly, I usually didn’t notice its absence because I could still run. I found a good place, and hope that I can find it in the future many times!As the sun rose, again, just as Gary promised, my body fooled itself into thinking that it was time to be awake. With 15 miles left, the tiredness was over and I was back on a high. Gary began a paradigm shift and let me start flirting with the idea of the finish line. We didn’t spend much time on the thought, but we let it float in and out of conversation and create some great energy. At this point the pace was quicker and the up hills were powered through more aggressively than they had been yet. With 7.5 miles to go, we were delighted to see the whole team together one last time before the finish. Emily and Spencer were up and cheering, Doug was laughing at our energy and smiles, and we were ready to give a couple hugs, high fives and hit the road. Now Gary let me pull out all of the stops. I ran the up hills if I felt like it, I ran the down hills aggressively if my feet could handle it. I had earned this 7.5-mile run more than I anything, aside from my happy marriage, I had ever worked for.
The trails were absolute slop at this point. Many of the single-track was up to 2 inches of slushy mud with every step. It was in these last several miles that I past some of the most inspirational runners I have ever been on course with. I past 12 people in the final 15 miles, some of them running, some walking, and some getting to the finish with nothing left but guts and courage. As Gary and I ran past these true competitors fueled by something from deep within them, I could not help but be inspired. These were runners who, on any other given day, could and would run circles around me. But for today, something caught them; some force of nature beyond their control, some force of the body that picked this day to rear it’s nasty head, some unknown tried to beat them down. The difference between a regular person and these competitors is that they were not beaten. They dug a hole so deep within themselves to find strength that most of us will know, find or experience. They were going to finish this race! On another day they may have finished this 100 miles in the top 10, maybe with a course record, and although they will not take home a coveted belt buckle today, they will take home the pride of finishing a race that gave them no chance to finish.
*To the man at mile 97 who we ran past and startled out of a world of your own; thank you for showing me what true perseverance is. You were walking with a limp, almost dragging your body over the terrain, and you sir brought the first tear to my eye of the entire race. I knew you would finish, however, what I did not know was just how many miles you had spent in this other world. I hope you enjoy this finish as much as you have enjoyed past victories. On most people’s best day they would never even consider a race like this. For those of us who do, there are still only a very unique few who have what it takes to finish it on a day that stacked everything against them. For some reason you had that day, and still you beat it down. Congratulations.
With 1 mile to go, 27 hours after it began, Gary and I stopped to take a photo. A moment I will never forget…
And then it was over…
Emily, Spencer, Doug, Gary and myself…Team Laga! It was sometime around mile 50 that I realized that I was just one person a five-person team; no more or less important than any other member. My job was to be the vehicle, and to never let that vehicle stop going forward. Thank you to my team, who kept that vehicle working and pointed in the right direction.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
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)
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)
Saturday, June 21, 2008
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
Thursday, June 12, 2008
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
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