Sometime in the night the temperature dropped. I don’t know how cold it got and I have no idea how the runners stayed out on the course, but it dropped severely. The wind that was supposed to stop didn’t. My sleeping mat didn’t work as I felt the ribs of my truck beneath me. With the wind whipping the top of the tent around, the cold, and the rough sleeping surface my sleep was not to be obtained.
Sometime after 0400 the call of nature got the better of me and upon returning to the tent I flamed on the camp stove under the coffee pot. Not sure why I did that since I knew I would have to get out of bed in 30mins to actually get a cup. But that action led me to grab the gas heater and light it up inside the tent. Not a great move for very long unless carbon monoxide is something enjoyable. Along with the heater I grabbed the coffee cups. The water from the night before inside the cups had frozen solid.
I curled back up inside my bag for the few remaining minutes I had left and let the heat bathe me. Debbie got up a short time after that and to my blessing made breakfast complete with pancakes, sausage and eggs. She was truly amazing. I drag her all over the place and while it does give her a chance to get out of Vegas, she is the major contributor to my running support crew. She takes all my pictures that have gained me some notoriety in the Hammer Nutrition world. And here she was at 0500 in the cold wind making me some hot chow before my run. To add more accolades, the day was yet to demonstrate her endurance for more hours than we had planned. Yes…she had a long day too.
With breakfast ready and the start time over 3 hours away I gobbled down some delicious nutrition. She even had the campfire going to which I warmed myself as best I could. I layered up nicely and enjoyed the semi-warmth of the morning sun. Reflecting on my loss at Labor of Love I knew this race was going to be a trail run. The unfortunate factor proved to be the lack of proper equipment. I did not have a pair of trail shoes. I made a quick purchase in the leading days prior to the race, but the shoes were nowhere near broken in for such a run. Thus, I shod my feet with my street shoes and hoped for the best. I did bring my new trails shoes, but figured I would at least start in the broken in street shoes first.
The crowd at the start line was insane. I could barely see through everyone to find Debbie as the 7 or 8 people clamored for position at the starting line. At 0900 the race started and I promptly executed my plan to start the race out at a 10-11 minute per mile pace. The wind blew in my face chilling me, but my ninja sweats under my hammer long sleeved shirt under my Hammer wind breaker under my Bronco sweatshirt hoodie kept my resistance to the wind strong enough to continue. I made my first lap as Debbie’s camera sounded like an M-16 on full auto as I passed by our campsite. Only 49 more laps to go. I felt great. I had energy, my hip flexors were silent and the people I was with were very supportive of each other. This was already shaping up to be a great first 50-miler.
The plan was working beautifully. For 9 laps I had averaged a 10:20 pace and held my position nicely. At the precise scheduled time I fueled. I drank water at each lap when I was supposed to do so. And I hated the wind though my outlook remained strong and positive. That’s when something went wrong. Of course the assumption was made that things were going to be okay, that I would run a solid race and only walk on occasion. But my assumption was proven to be a wrong one to make. Somewhere in mile 8, 9, or maybe even 10 I felt the tightness of the outside of my left knee contract. The ligament had experienced something it did not like, and I can only guess the lack of training on trails coupled with wrong shoes contributed to the injury. I kept going though by mile 13 the tightness had elevated to pain and I had been reduced to a walk-trot-walk pace, slowed to a 14-15minute per mile pace.
For the next 7 miles I nursed it good. More than I should have probably. I experienced the passing by my fellow 50-milers plus the added benefit of the marathoners lending me some sneaker dust. I eventually stripped off the Bronco hoodie and Hammer windbreaker, but the sweatpants and long sleeve shirts remained. Other runners from the area were actually stripped down to bikini tops, no tops, and shorts. The ones with no tops were dudes.
At mile 20 I remember thinking something along the lines of having to do another 30 miles like this? And I simply couldn’t conceive it, so I kept going. Once in a while I would pick up the pace and trot for a bit, but it seemed like every lap I was stopping at the campsite trying to find some remedy that would alleviate the pain. By this time I was having 20 minute lap times. It was here I simply acknowledged I haven’t even completed a full marathon, so kept going I did. Water was going down me a bottle a lap. The wind continued to blow sustained between 10-15mph with gusts. The sun was fully out as well. My fuel continued as well, with the addition of solid food from the support tent. At mile 26 I was up to 5 hours and 52 minutes.
Then I hit mile 30. This was the lowest point of the race for me. The thought of having another 20 miles to go seemed like an impenetrable wall. I stopped at the support tent and told the director I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make it. Hunched over, rubbing my knee, I just kept going. I am having a difficult time describing it. I recall telling him that I could go on. I see myself saying it to him. Then a moment later I am still on the course. Walking yet moving. It was around this time Debbie jumped on board and walked a lap with me. That was a truly great lap. It was during this lap we decided that staying another night simply would not be an option. Both of us wanted nothing more than to be home. With that, Debbie started to break camp.
Mile 33. Once again I find myself at the support tent. Something I truly enjoyed about this race was the big screen TV they had displaying your lap, your current time, and your last lap time for not just you to see, but anyone wanting to know their position could simply take a quick glance and see where they were at in the standings. It wasn’t too hard to figure out. At mile 33 I found myself tied for dead last with Amanda from Mesa, AZ who was also at the tent. And we were at least 5 miles behind. Over the course of the next mile I enjoyed a pretty good conversation with her as she had been at Labor of Love 50 also. That lap did something inside me.
Taking my leave from her, I stopped at my campsite where Debbie wrapped a cold compress around my knee and I headed back out. Why did I not do this earlier? I walked a lap with that compress on my knee and by the time I came back around things had begun to change. My knee didn’t hurt as much, but what’s important was that something inside me was different. I started seeing the little sticker I wanted for the window of my truck. I pictured Debbie waiting those long boring hours in the cold and blowing wind. I pictured my coach. I pictured crossing the finish line being able to say I did it. And it worked.
Over the next lap my pace increased slowly and with the compress still taped to my knee by mile 35 I had increased my pace to a 12-13minute mile pace. I trotted when I could and started finding out that as long as I was moving my knee was mostly okay. The one time truly stopped to remove the cold compress nearly drove me to the ground. My knee stiffened up something bad and when I tried to run shards of pain needles ran through my entire leg.
From mile 35 to mile 45 it went this way: I would walk the uphill portions since they required certain movements that caused pain. The downhill portions I did my best to run using the proper form I have come to utilize through my training. Rough sections I walked also to reduce the chance of sustaining a rolled ankle. Water and fuel all continued to flow normally. At mile 44 I finally urinated for the first time since waking up that day. This was also the lap I FINALLY started to chafe in a certain unmentioned area plus I gained my first and only blister on my left heel of course.
Mile 47 brought darkness and my headlamp. I really didn’t think I would need it, but I tossed it in my bag anyway, and as it turns out it came in handy. Although it provided enough light to see my way, it didn’t give enough to enable me to run. I couple times I hit a rock and nearly went over. The only other thing it did was allow me to see how much dust I have been inhaling all day. So….for the next three miles I walked the course. But I knew….HAD KNOWN for three miles already…that I was going to finish my run.
The last three miles took the longest in my mind. It was pitch black. There were only four runners on the mile-long course. I was alone with my thoughts unless I passed by the support tent or my campsite. By that time Debbie was huddle in the truck trying to stay warm. I would call out how many miles I had left as I passed by, and the guys in the support tent would continue to encourage me when I passed them as well. But out on the course, walking alone, it was me and my thoughts. Yet, I was not really alone.
Someday I will share what I went through those last three miles. But trust me. I wasn’t alone. And for the first time all day I wasn’t cold.
I crossed the start line at mile 49. 1 more lap. 1 more mile. I had already missed my twelve hour mark, but by then I really didn’t care what my time results would be. The winner came in at 6 hours and some change. The only other person in my age group came in at 11:10. My final time would end up at 12:27. But that last lap! My last lap! I passed by my truck one more time and called out for Debbie. I only had a half mile to go.
100 meters from the finish I tried running. I had sufficient lighting and I wanted to cross the line running. It wasn’t meant to be. My knee nearly gave out on me. Content on simply finishing, I cross the line as Debbie’s camera rolled. I had no severe emotions. I was tired to be sure, but nothing like an overwhelming blanket of bliss or joy. I was happy to be done and happy to receive my congratulatory hug and kiss from Deb. But nothing like what I expected or assumed. I went inside the tent, enjoyed a grilled ham and cheese, warmed up, and talked with the guys for a bit. That was it. I had simply finished. And that was all that I needed.
Debbie and I thanked everyone for a great time, went back to our campsite and packed up the truck. My two 48-hour runner friends stopped y to say good bye. Maybe here’s one reason for the lack of emotion at my finish. These guys were out here doing a 48 hours race and I never heard a single complaint from either. I talked with Chisholm at one point while walking with him. I asked him if was hurting. I got an explicative in return. He hurt everywhere. He battled with the negative thoughts and fought them down with positive acknowledgement knowing what he had to do and that he was going to do it. Then he fought the same battle again five minutes later. How does one receive congratulations from guys like that? Or even Super Ed who has recently broken the world record for the most marathons in a single year, and he is still going only to make sure he does as many as he possibly can. He was at marathon number five when we left.
I stayed in the same clothes, shoes, everything. I just drove. We stopped in Kingman and got coffee. I changed shoes there and saw my blister for the first time. It was the size of a silver dollar. My knee had stiffened up to nearly not being able to bend. But with only an hour and a half to go, we hit the road. BY 0200 on Sunday morning Debbie and I both had showered and were sound asleep.
I have run races before where I did not do as well as I had planned. I had to drop out of Labor of Love. I still have yet to cut my marathons to less than 4 hours. This 50-miler was to be a redemption race for me. And all things considered? It was and I was.
