New Soil (Kuwait)

15AUG17

New Soil

The long walk from the terminal to the plane on 08AUG17 manifested itself quite differently this deployment, far less emotional than the first. Our plane, a United 747, waited for us on the tarmac a solid four-minute walk. While my first tour departed in the early morning hours, this walk took place in the afternoon sun and one of my fellow soldiers interrupted my solitude during the walk through unsolicited statements regarding seating arrangements which proved to be without merit. As we boarded the aircraft, a terminal official greeted us by asking our rank and directing traffic accordingly. Majors have little affluence anymore as two lower ranking soldiers were directed to first class while I received orders to the rear of the plane.

My seat ended up being the next to last seat in the tail end of the extremely long bird. Only one row sat further to the rear than did my own. I found a two-seat row next to a window on the right side of the plane facing forward and sat in the aisle seat. Next to me a joyful warrant officer that maintained his countenance throughout the flight. He kept me happy and jubilant. I think I posted a picture of the two of us on my main page.

The flight took a total 28 hours. We stopped in VA and took on additional passengers completely engulfing the plane, which I estimate to be around 350 passengers. It’s a guess, but on a 747, seats are a plenty. From VA we spent approximately 7 hours flying over the ocean. It was not harsh, as we enjoyed in-flight movies and were fed frequently. Upon landing in Hahn, Germany, the flight enjoyed a short shuttle ride to a terminal facility in a dilapidated military base terminal area with actual grass in the back yard.

Our third leg took us to Qatar where a vast majority of the passengers left, allowing for many to move about the cabin and spread out a bit. The final leg from Qatar landed us in Kuwait International Airport. After 28 hours on a plane, it is safe to say we were not happy campers. The heat welcomed us at nearly 120 degrees, which only added to the strained muscles and attitudes, but a clean, dust-free, interior holding area allowed to enjoy ice-cold water while resting on sofa recliners in air-conditioned luxury suites. (yeah…not true. Outdoor, in the heat and dust, and not really any seat except for the concrete T-barriers. And cool water? Not really. Refrigerators are everywhere, not just in Kuwait, but in Iraq too. If you take one, you replace one. But they never really get chilled.)

Tiny busses transported us from heaven to the tropical resort of Camp Arifjan to await our transportation into Iraq. I enjoyed wifi, a Starbucks, and a half mile walk to the dining facility three times a day. I also had a chance to Facetime with the family back home. The heat during the day averaged around 117. Welcome to Kuwait.

Last American Meal

05AUG17

Last American Meal

Sleep has not been an issue this week since the “episode” of the other night, and in fact, I have even been waking up early enough to log some miles on the road. By the way, I humbly thank you for the encouragement in your comments. Every word adds life to me. Thank you!

Yesterday I enjoyed supporting the APFT (physical fitness test) for the unit with some running pointers and also sharing some of the last remaining supplies of Hammer gel packs I kinda squirreled away over the last three weeks. (Which, by the way, received high praise from several soldiers, thank you Hammer Nutrition!)

This morning was another such start as even before the sun began to peek over the horizon and before few if any other soldiers were up, my Altras were softly gliding across the pavement. The ghost town of North Fort Hood felt eerily exciting at the early hour. 6 miles later a multitude of runners covered the streets conducting various forms of physical training. It was a good start.

This afternoon I had the opportunity to hitch a ride to the big PX in the sky. PX=Post Exchange, but it’s not really in the sky. It’s more like on the big side of Fort Hood, TX. Not really “like” on the big side of Fort Hood, it actually IS on the big side of Fort Hood. It’s to the south of us, so it’s known as South Fort Hood to us. So, we started calling it Southfork, after a certain Texas based TV series from the 80s. I still don’t who shot JR.

I picked up a couple items that will come in handy in the upcoming three days. First, I grabbed two back-up batteries that should suffice the journey I am about to face soon. I should only need the juice for my ipad since my phone will be off and the laptop will not be needed. I also enjoyed one last stop in the PX for some fast food. Which turned out to be…CHINESE FOOD! HA! And for dessert??? My last official American made Starbucks coffee dark roast. Deee-lish!!

Weird, right? But stop and think about it for a second. Unless I manage to get a second chance tomorrow, today was the last time for many months that I will enjoy both succulent choices that were made ON American soil. Certainly, we can assume coffee and other fast food type environments exist in foreign countries, to be sure. Yet, the simplest of ingredients will not have been secured from an American resource. Such as, of all things, WATER. (Yes, I seriously do think about things like this.)

Consider: each of us desire a specific brand of bottled water, correct? Step into any Terrible Herbst or 7-11 to get water, what do you reach for? Dasani? Smart Water? Why? Because each one tastes different, correct? So why won’t the water in a different country be reasonably expected to taste different enough to cause a variant in the flavor of the coffee, let alone the noodles that were boiled in water? Am I right? So I enjoyed my last American made Chinese food and one last American made coffee and now I can settle in for my last full day on American soil tomorrow. Hey, that just gave me an idea…I wonder what American soil tastes like compared to other country soils?

02AUG17> The Walls Caved In On Me

After a grueling day of travel pre-cursed by leaving behind my loved ones yesterday, I finally arrived back in my barracks room at 0345. I slept…kinda…for an hour or so, got up and made first formation. My day was productive as things are drawing near to our departure. Went to dinner with my fellow officers  at 1800 and came home to watch some Big Bang Theory. Called home. And finally, exhausted, I went to bed. Key detail: a couple weeks ago my battle buddy left on advance party, so I now have a large room to myself. Relaxing and peaceful not having someone else’s smelly shoes in the room. But were he here with me, tonight would not have happened.

However, not having my battle with me allowed cause an opening for my internal man to experience havoc. I still am unsure of all the factors that caused what I experienced, but I don’t recall experiencing this on my first deployment. My mind hasn’t been totally clear all day, so when I went to go horizontal (lie down), I suddenly began to feel the room spin. Not bad, but enough. Then the walls started closing in on me, and I felt it very difficult to breathe, as if the room had no air. So, considering my traveling the day before, lack of sleep, poor nutrition, water intake, etc, it stands to reason this might happen. However, couple this now with the heaviness of leaving my wife, my daughter and my grandson and it was more than I could bear while in this room.

I found myself sitting up, my hands on my knees, small light on, Chris Tomlin playing, and praying against my thoughts that were attacking me. The loneliness I felt inside this room overwhelmed me, invaded my innermost being and left me void. Empty.

I’m better now as I donned my PT gear and ran into the darkness west of my building. To escape the loneliness, I ran into more desolation, but it was freeing. No lights, no constraints, no hindrances. It was in the night, on a short run, the emotions hit again. Remembering the airport parking garage holding my grandson, who KNEW something was up, refusing to let go of me, calling out “papa” over and over. Hugging my daughter, unable to express the pride I have in her maturity in being a mommy.

Holding my wife for the second go-around, knowing that it is I who has created this hardship for her, knowing full well that I am the cause of her direct pain, brought me to my knees. I will never doubt the strength that is in my wife, the independence, the ability to ENDURE life. True, it was a mutual decision, but in the end I left her and wont again see her for ten months. That’s a lot to deal with as any military spouse knows.

Now, after clearing my head, I decided to share the effects a deployment. At times it is difficult to put into words what cannot be seen. Not just emotions, but thoughts, attitudes, work stressors all remain invisible to outsiders. I share these things with you, my little closed group of special loved ones, because you will let me.  

Pre-occupied

May crossed over the halfway mark this week and the month past has been incredibly busy. I am approaching the close of my first week of the new semester and the lack of motivation has reached climactic levels. Things in the last few weeks have simply crowded out my desire to "apply myself."

As a recap, I would have to say that going back to my Salt Flats weekend began the ball rolling down this inevitable path of yearning for the elusive graduation cruise planned for August. To say the failure at Salt Flats has affected me would be an understatement, but so much else has taken place as well.

The first week of May brough about two massive projects: Finals week for the previous semester that fell in pace with scheduled Annual Training with the Guard. Long days of Military Decision Making Process training did not fair well with the research papers that required a significant amount of my time. Upon conclusion of the week, I was ready for a break.

It was not to be. While AT wrapped up on the 11th, my daughter graduated college on the 12th. Debbie amazingly arranged all logistics for her, thankfully, since I had to devote my time elsewhere. The graduation was okay, the dinner good, but the significance of the event took an emotional toll.

Then, without a blink, this semester launched and with came all sorts of new adventures. A family member required several medical appointments that took some time, Debbie's schedule changed, going from days to swings resulting in sleeping patterns being altered, and I have scheduled another 100miler for next week.

To top it all off, I had to go through a job interview. Enough said on that. I can add to that the fact that grades have not yet posted from last semester, and this semester is shaping up to be less than desirable in comparison to last. I have already had run-ins with other classmates through the discussion boards. First week? Really?

I am not complaining. I am not unhappy nor am I even slightly depressed. I just needed to get my fingers typing a bit to redirect my focus back on school and current events seemed to be a good place to start. I am beyond emotional for my college graduate. I am beyond grateful for Deb, putting togeether a significant effort for her. I am excited at the prospect for going back to work. And I cannot wait to finish up this school. Time to fix up my foxhole, lean into it, and drive on.

Salt Flats 100 (70)

I stood in front of the Rainbow Hotel window and watched the winds blow a fierce storm of dust across the entire Wendover Valley. In the background the weather station continued to tell me audibly what my eyes confirmed visually. The winds increased and the temperatures decreased right before me. Any ideas I had in having pristine weather conditions for my first 100-miler run disappeared in a couple hours time.

It was Thursday night before the race and all the essentials had been completed. Race meeting, packet pick-up, dinner, and all the necessary check in equipment and nutrition supplies. I had gone over my checklist of things to work through at each aid station with my long time friend and crew chief for this race, Brian Burgess. Sleep came early enough and with the dawn approaching, we left the hotel and made our way to the start.

Best way to describe this course must be found in the separation of the course into various terrain features. The title of the race is deceptive. With nearly 10,000 feet of elevation gain throughout the hundred miles, the race is anything but flat. Even my hill profiles from mapping software left me greatly underestimating the course difficulty. And what the elevations profile left unchallenged the unknown factor of changing terrains more than made up for it.

The start took place on the Salt Flats with a full half marathon distance to Floating Island. I was prepared for this portion having competed on it two years prior. The steady pace was slow and consistent at 11:00 miles. I was a bit on the tired side, maybe from the week before, and as a result I simply focused on the pace.

I feel the need to add this comment on the week leading up to the race. I knew it was going to challenge me mentally, and to some degree I can say the mental aspect took more of a toll than the physical, as can be seen later. Having come off drill the weekend before, my schoolwork suffered a bit, leaving me with a 7-pager to complete the day before the race. More than that, I had a run-in with a medical professional as well as two potentially life-changing events that required full attention and two full days worth of my time. I was a bit distracted.

Add to this a situation that I support strongly but did allow for a slight change in my running routine was the noticeable absence of my biggest fan and support staff: Debbie. Before each race I get a well meaning kiss and at the end of each race I get to feel her embrace. Neither was present on this run. I missed her, plain and simple.

Thankfully, my long time friend Brian took the reins and did an exemplary job running through my checklist at each aid station. Not knowing my running needs or the nature of ultra running behind the scenes, he learned overnight what needed to be done and seeing him as often as I did felt like a warm blanket. His walking with me several times throughout the night reminded me of why he is so valuable a person to me. He is indispensable as far as friends go.

Aid station 3 took the runners off the salt flats entirely and routed us in the direction of our first hill climb. The route was gorgeous as I allowed myself the luxury of taking in the scenery. The steep grade kept my pace low but the climb was worth the view. Panoramic presentation #1. But every uphill had to have a downhill and this one allowed for my right little pinkie toe to slide benevolently beneath a pile driver as it slammed itself against the inside front my shoe. This backside of the hill was the only place where I felt some really nice temperatures too.

The next time I saw Brian was at Aid #5 where I took a little break, refueled, and prepared for the 22 mile round trip around the northern most section of the course. Here the course presented two unique sections of terrain. The first outgoing section could only be described as rock climbing, for the volleyball sized boulders and heavily rocked surface made it that much more challenging to climb yet another fantastic grade en route to aid #6, stationed at the peak. Panoramic view #2 exploded to me here and it was incredible. Stopping was mandatory only to see the arid spans of wilderness, not to enjoy the blistering cold winds or attempt to recover from the hill climb.

Departing the aid station I once again enjoyed the pounding action of the pile driver on my little toe. The drop down the valley was not long in process, yet once again an entirely new terrain feature presented itself. I suddenly found myself transported to the surface of some barren moon landscape where my feet plodded upon some tow inch thick crust of dried mud surface. Here the winds speeds increased, breaking up the fine particles of powdery mud crustiness and whipped them around my entire body. This lasted for nearly 7 miles until reaching aid station #7.

I hit my Garmin at what I thought was the 50 mile point and I had been out for twelve hours. I was proud of myself. I felt good, though cold and wind blistered, Feet were definitely hurting as the needle-like pain I experience at Across the Years came flowing back. My mental attitude at this point was good though I could tell the toll was higher than I expected on my body. At the aid station I ate some MRE hot meal something and after a thirty minute break, Brian kicked me back out.

Armed with my headlamp, I trotted off and over the next few miles enjoyed running several times. The road was agreeable to me, though headlong into the wind at this point. Throughout the day every time I stopped for even a minute I began to shiver. As the sun started to set the temperature did as well, and the coldness felt sharper too. I had been wearing my sweatpants all day, which, incidentally, were an afterthought throw-in item as I packed two days before. Not to mention the skeleton gloves Debbie threw in my bag. If it weren’t for her, I would not have had any gloves.

Aid station #8 and #9 passed by without much incident, other than at each one my stay was longer and getting back out on the course took more effort. By this time, I had to stop and stretch quite often while out on the course. Lower back, calves, hamstrings were all very unhappy with me. Guys from #8 came out and walked me in, and prior to #9 I met Emily and walked in with her, meeting up with Brian too.

And yet once again as I turned from #9 heading to #10, the terrain changed again, and my only thoughts were to get warm. This being yet another small hill climb took runner through what I can only describe as a city-sized bottle of Anti-Monkey Butt Powder being dumped all over. The fines powder poofed up around me with each step, the fine particles being illuminated in my headlamp. I didn’t even want to breathe.

Walking a mile here with Brian really helped, but once he turned back to retrieve his Jeep, the isolation of the night hit home. My mental strength had already begun to deteriorate, and this drilled holes in my resolution. My feet were stinging from what I thought were blisters that Brian taped up more than a couple times. The hills, though, really took a toll as my legs simply did not want to work properly.

At aid station #10 I was provided an opportunity to get warm and recover for some time. I was taken to an RV, owned by friends of Brian, and after removing my shoes and socks I rolled over and crashed. 0400 passed. 0430. 0500. 0600. I ended up sleeping off over three hours. Big mistake on my part. Yet I acknowledge there are times in your life when you make a decision based on all the gatherable circumstantial evidences available and simply decide. I needed the break. So I took it.

The problem was that once I got taped up again and kicked out again by Brian, station #10 had closed and I was pretty much on my own. It was 0700 and I had yet another hill climb. Brian pushed on ahead to #11 to let them know I was coming and I stepped off. Everything hurt and my energy level had been depleted. My pace for the four miles fell off sharply. It took me over an hour and a half to walk the distance, and at even the slightest downhill, an attempt at running proved to be impossible. My legs would not hold me up.

I caught up with Brian between 70-72 and made the call. Considering the next thirty miles contained more terrain features and the largest hill climb of the course, I felt that I did not have anything left to endure the final 30. Many other folks were in worse condition than I, yet to compare individuals would be misleading. My training had left me a bit short on the hills and my under-estimation of the course and weather were very amateur-like decisions. By the way, I AM an amateur endurance athlete. And with school, job, daughter, and other events shaping my life at home for Debbie’s and my future, I am ready to give my wife her husband back. For awhile.

Coyote Springs Windstorm

Talk about a race. I’m not even sure where to begin.

John Wog came in from CA and toghether we spent the night at the start/finish. It was a calm and peaceful night  camping under the NV desert stars. We woke up at 5, had some breakfast and coffee and at 7, John got kicked out for his 100. Half an hour later, the fifty-milers gathered for a parallel pre-race briefing. Key notes: the trail would be over marker and it would be impossible to get lost. The route would be marked with green or orange arrows, plus 1”by4” reflectors clothe pinned to plants along the trail. In my group were the 50M and 50K. There were 13 in the 50M group.

The first couple miles were basically to get us from the camp to the first loop (south). It ran on the road then veered left to the bluffs where it picked up the maze of trails that ran along the bluffs heading generally south-east. I felt very good heading out. By the time we hit the trails, I had a good groove and things were going smooth as we bounced up, down, over, around until we climbed up the switch-backs. These were a series of 180degree turns for a quick climb. We were told…do not come down the switch-backs (remember this point). So, up we went and over the bluff to the top and headed east to the old Hwy 93. We had half a mile of blacktop hillclimb to aid #1.

I had started out with my waterpak full of water (70oz) plus four packs of Hammer gel. I had downed 20oz water and two gels already, so I added water and more gels quickly and headed back out. The trail over the top surface of the bluff was extremely hard to follow. The arrows were far apart and hard to see with little to no recognizable trail to stay on.

I had taken over lead position of a group of maybe seven runners, most of whom were 50K. We hit the switch-backs, and I went down them. The opposite of what we were told. For some reason the arrow didn’t click with me. I didn’t get off course far, but it did take a toll. Climbing back up the switch-backs was a tough mental block. But I moved on into loop two (north) and headed to aid station two…That’s when the wind started. This was around mile 9 and time was actually flying by. Water and fuel intake continued to be spot-on, taking into consideration the change in terrain. The wind could not be overstated or under estimated. By the time I had reached aid station two, my energy level had begun to deteriorate severely.

I loaded back up with three more gels, 4 E-Caps, and another 20oz water. The northern most leg of the trails proved to be just as technical as the other three. The surface of the bluffs between the actual trails and the old Hwy93 consisted of various forms of shale and coral reefs. Various forms of vegetation provided a veritable stockyard of obstacles. Any lack of attention could have resulted in severe blood loss. Hey, that’s trail running.

The struggles really began to set en route to the start/finish. The depletion in energy levels happening so suddenly at such a high rate was surprising. For the five or six miles back, I analyzed what was happening, and narrowed it down to calories or water. Yet, both were not only on the level so far, I had compensated for the weather by increasing not only both water and calorie intake but had increased also the amount of E-Caps significantly.

I hit the start/finish and decided to keep going with a small break. I refilled everything and headed out on my 12mile out and back. It was pretty much level terrain, though rocky, loose sand, and rutted out severely. I ran a good mile with another couple runners until my energy once again fell through. I ended up struggling through the next 9 miles. Even at the one unmanned aid table three miles into the out-n-back only provided enough to give me water and a lara bar.

With the wind at my back on the way out, I thought I could manage better. The turn-around back took me directly into the promised 40-60mph gusts hit me directly in the face. For six miles back, I trudged step by step. I had a hard time getting any air, and even though I had another runner with me, the effort it took just to keep moving put us back to only a walk. Many times the pace was a crawl other times an all out stop.

By the time I got back to the start, I was done. Yet, the last thing I wanted was a DNF. So, I talked to one of the race directors and talked them to letting me drop down to the 50K. But that required another 6 miles. With that, I was allowed back out on the course for the 10K. I filled up my waterpack, and after a short rest, headed out.

Suffice it to say I don’t recall much of the 10K. Things were delirious most of the time, requiring me to find places to sit down often. Yet each time I sat, I began to cramp up in my inner thighs. The water ran out within 5 miles leaving only little sips of hot water from the few drops left just to keep my lips somewhat moist. The amazing thing I remember was simply not being able to breathe, as if I was at altitude. It was like the eind had sucked up all the oxygen.

My waterpak felt like I had been carrying a rucksack loaded with weights. I took it off and put it on over and over throughout the 10K. Nothing felt right, even my sunglasses. By the time I managed to get back to the finish, I couldn’t talk, and my entire body cramped from time to time in places I couldn’t expect to cramp. Its hard to explain what I was feeling. I ended up back at the truck lying on my cot with my wife laying wet paper towels on me to cool me down. Cramps were happening all over, including my lower left side, which felt like a cracked a rib.

My recovery took several hours. I managed to get back to the main tent where I started downing chicken noodle soup, water, more soup, more water. I think I even had a hot dog. During this time, John came in from his second loop and had decided to drop down to the 50K as well. His day was done too. We got reports that runners were doing the same thing across the board. All but one 50Miler dropped down to the 50K or half marathon except for one runner who was actually peeing blood. Many of the 100miler dropped to the 50M or 50K as well. Reason: the winds were simply taking everything out of the runners. Adding to the winds were the precarious trails, and many, already feeling exceptionally drained physically, chose not to face the inherent dangers of the trail at night. So, with that I ended my day with an 8 hour and 37 minute 31 mile run. On a scale of challenge this one hit the roof. On a scale of races to do in the future, I think this one bottomed out.

 

Death Valley Full 2012

This race is fast becoming an annual race for me, and hopefully next year it will include a family gathering for the weekend. (They dont know about the idea, yet.) Beginning at Furnace Creek Ranch the run headed north in the directio of Stovepipe Wells, 13.1 miles of track upon which the infamous Badwater Ultra is held. Weather was significantly different than last year, as temps were favorable for shorts and tech-tee as oppsoed to huddling around a fire mineutes before the race last year. High temp that day reached nearly 80 degrees.
My current training program consists of a schedule set-up for my initial 100-miler for the end of April. Jared Sweet, my coach, has much the credit for providing me with the parameters for this race. My limitations included a 10min-per-mile pace cap and to be self-sustaining as best I could. This resulted in carrying all my water and fueling needs for the entire marathon. Jared knows his stuff.
I carried with me a full camelback of over one half gallon of water, a Hammer fuel bar, a bottle of Hammer Perpetuem, and six Hammer Gel packs. Total weight? All things considered maybe another 6-8 pounds? Doesnt sound like a lot, until you carry it over 26 miles. In the end, it proved to be the race maker for me.
The pace was a very enjoyable, minimal effort pace. I was able to carry on a conversation with several other runners at various times. We were not authorized headphones, and talking became a good alternative. My little group of runners within a two-mile radius experienced some pretty good headwinds at mile 9-10 through the turn-around. Once we headed back to the finish, it was full on into the sun with no wind break. That's when the heat started to rise and where my water plan paid off.

Having the water tube at mouth level allowed me to sip every mile. The constant flow of water kept me going. By the time I reached mile 20, I had begun to pass runners who werew whowing signs of dehydration as they trod slowly on. Aside from the normal pains in the thighs and some knee issues, my pace only slighted on one hill and while making some food adjustments.
My time was ten minutes slwoer than last year, but all things considered, the race was significantly better. Control was maintained throughout, management of my resources was spot-on, and mental clarity was actually quite acute. (I like that word.) So, keep this on the radar? Definitely.