Pacing & crewing along the 2013 Burning River 100

This trip was so spontaneous that it fit perfectly with the way my summer had been going. I had been going out of town for the past three weekends and this next trip to Ohio to be a part of the Burning River 100 Mile Endurance Run was a great excuse to extend my streak to four weekends. I thought that the race was at the end of August but it was actually set for the end of July. So instead of planning for a relaxing weekend at home, I was busy packing once again for another exciting weekend. The drive was fast thanks to the engaging conversations with my friend "Ultra Joe." We spent the drive catching up since the last time we hung out at another ultra race about a year ago (The North Face Challenge 50 miler in Wisconsin). We talked about all the relay races we had done between us and about some ultra running philosophy. It's incredible how easy runners can connect by sharing different yet similar running experiences. We had both traveled an interesting journey to get to where we were now. We both had a few 50 milers under our belts and our minds were focused on the next big milestone, a 100 mile race.

                Joe had mentioned on Facebook a few months ago that he was going to run a 100 mile race. When I saw that post I immediately offered up my services as a Pacer. I was extremely thrilled that Joe was going to run his first 100 miler and I keenly wanted to be a part of that amazing experience. As fate would have it, Joe would not be running the race due to a high ankle sprain he had sustained a few days before the race. At first, I contemplated taking his bib and running the race myself, but that was an absurd idea since mentally, I was not ready to run my first 100 miles on a whim. You have to respect the distance and this wasn’t one of those fun runs in the city that you could easily do with a hangover (See Chicago Half Marathon 2011). Joe was pretty upset he wouldn’t be running but thanks to my encouragement he was still willing to come out and volunteer for the race. That way he could get a good feel for what the course and environment of a 100 mile race would be like. I also loved the idea of tagging along to see some of the runners cross the finish line and witness their moment of incredible bliss.

                So it was agreed we would head toward the packet pickup and see if we could arrange some sort of volunteer position that would allow us to jump around the race and not limit ourselves to be stationed at one place. We arrived and Joe began explaining his situation to the people working the packet pickup. He had made it a point to say since he had paid for the race, he might as well pick up his swag which actually was a pretty nice Mountain Hardwear backpack. While mingling with other runners we overheard this skinny young kid talking about running his first 100 miler. His name was Devon and he looked so excited to be here. We asked if he had a pacer or a crew and he sort of grinned and answered plainly, “no.” I couldn’t believe it and instantly thought this kid was never going to finish the race tomorrow. While talking this kid Devon we also spoke to Tap who was the volunteer coordinator for the race. Tap is a pretty lady with a special charisma who has run several Ultras herself. She would become the catalyst that would bind our paths with Devon’s. She immediately liked the suggestion we threw out about pacing and crewing for Devon. She said it was a fantastic idea and gave us lots of information about the aid stations and names of the aid station captains. Joe and I talked it over quickly and we decided we would definitely help this young 24 year old run his first 100 mile race. 

The packet pick up had some tasty refreshments

                I grew excited that I would be able to get a run in this weekend and actually see some of the course too. We spent the night with Devon getting to know him a little better and eating some pizza for dinner. After enjoying a delicious Yuengling beer we went to Devon’s hotel and he let us crash in his room. I had brought a sleeping bag and blankets with the intention of camping so we were comfortable sprawling out on the floor and letting Devon get his rest. The humming coming from the mini fridge didn’t keep us up too late and we all got to sleep eventually. The morning came quickly as Devon was up at 2:15am and gearing up. He was going to take an early shuttle and we would be meeting him later at the first aid station.

My view waking up

                When we got to the first aid station (Squire’s castle) Joe and I walked over to the picturesque castle sitting on a small hilltop. The first runners would be coming through soon so we got into position and waited for Devon. We saw Tap while we were waiting and she handed us some volunteer shirts and reminded us that we were free to jump around all day and should anyone gave us grief, just mention her name. We thanked her and soon saw the first runners starting to come through. We saw Devon coming in fast close behind the lead pack and took his headlamp that he wouldn’t need for another 12 hours or so. Devon was moving fast and I began to get worried for two reasons.  One, I was thinking he was going too fast and would crash hard later in the race and possibly not finish. Second, maybe he is just a fast runner and I began to worry I might not be able to pace him if he is running that fast when I join up with him at mile 55. I didn’t want to be left behind and felt nervous about keeping up with this kid. I was reassured by Joe that I would be fine and would have no problem keeping pace with Devon. He reminded me that after 55 miles of running his pace would definitely be slower. That helped reassure me and I also rationalized that we had seen him running on a flat surface and when I would be with him we would be in the trails with lots of inclines and declines. I put my worries aside and we left toward the next aid station.

               

Squire's Castle

 We got to the next aid station and again saw Devon cruising through keeping a fast pace and closing in on the top 10. We gave him some more cheers and after greeting Peg “the mannequin leg” we drove off to the next aid station. Joe brought up a point around this time. He noticed how similar our day was going in comparison to a relay race. It was in fact true, as we were consistently scrambling to get to the next aid station and managing our way across roads we were unfamiliar with. The only difference was that we didn’t have to run once we reached the next aid station. Instead we helped cheer and support runners along the course. When Joe and I arrived to the aid station at mile 18 we stuck around for a while lending our ultra experience to the other volunteers. After successfully demonstrating how to help ultrarunners with instructions and guidance, the first-time volunteers got the hang of it. We left and kept going to keep up with Devon.

                We decided to jump ahead in the course a bit and wait for Devon at Egbert Shelter, around the 50K mark (31 miles). Our plan was to get there as soon as possible and take a power nap. We figured we had about a good hour and a half before Devon would show up. Both Joe and I were feeling tired not having eaten much the whole morning. We pulled into the park area and saw a few cars and a table set up. We saw the path that the runner’s would be coming in from and felt confident we were at the right spot. We parked, cracked the windows a bit, and reclined the seats. I put my cowboy hat over my face to block the light and quickly went to sleep. In what felt like minutes later, I jolted awake and looked at Joe who was startled by my jump. Joe said we had taken about a good 45 min nap. I got out of the car and suddenly felt lost. The cars that were around us before were all gone now. The table where the volunteers were set up was gone too. I went toward a shed that had some bathrooms and saw a group of teenagers huddled there to avoid the drizzling rain. I approached them and asked if they were volunteering for Burning River. They said no and that they had just finished their cross country workout. Joe and I figured we parked in the wrong area, so we hastily got back in the car and drove further into the park. A couple turns later we found the aid station. We parked and noticed the intensity of the rainfall was increasing. 

The rain picking up

        

  Again, I started to worry about my pacing duties. I had never run an ultra in heavy rain. What new curve balls would I have to deal with? I brought this concern up to Joe and again, with his sage like wisdom, he comforted me. He told me I could try putting body glide on my feet to help prevent blisters from the guaranteed wet shoes I would be running in. I had never tried that since I have been extremely fortunate to have hardly dealt with blisters in my running career. They say not to try anything new on race day, but lucky for me, I was only pacing today. 

                The aid station at Egbert Shelter was very well managed. Mike, the Aid Station Captain had the station running smoothly. He was authoritative and got people to listen to him and do what he said. His main concern was for the benefit of the runners. As an ultrarunner himself he clearly understood the importance of placing the runner’s needs as top priority. Joe and I happily found a spot to help and soon saw the first runner’s coming in. Tap arrived with Gavin (her son) and told us she had seen Devon at the last aid station and he was still looking good. Sure enough Devon came through looking intense and determined. He was in and out of the aid station stopping only to refill his bottles. He was quickly back on the course with 69 more miles to go. Joe and I stuck around at the aid station helping a while longer. After I ate some pizza that was leftovers from the night before, we got on the move.

Meeting the locals while volunteering

                Before we left we got directions from Tap to the aid station that I would be joining Devon to pace him. Tap’s directions were perfect. Unfortunately, she gave us directions to the wrong aid station. After getting in touch with her she apologized and led us to the right one. Tap was very busy this day checking on all the aid stations and doing her duties as the volunteer coordinator. It was impressive how well she was running things and able to help us get around during the race. So her one mistake was easily forgivable.

We got to the right aid station at Boston Store and it looked very simple. It was an open grassy lot with only a few tents. It was still raining at a good rate and the tent’s canopies would spill the built up rain water occasionally. Tap started preparing the sign-in sheet for the pacers while I went to change. I donned my running clothes and did all the prep needed for an ultra (Band-aids on nipples, Vaseline everywhere, gel’s stocked, handheld full, etc.) including positioning my brand new AK Buff. My good friend Adam has a man-crush on Anton Krupicka, so he bought his special line of buffs and gave one to me. The AK Buff is basically a head wrap that has multiple ways of wearing it. I wore it in the headband style and with it on, I felt invincible. It’s similar to the way a basketball player would feel wearing a new pair or Jordan’s.

              

Ready to pace

  I stood under one of the tents talking to some of the volunteers and learning a little bit more about Ohio. Some of the lead runners passed through and one had even dropped from the race. This aid station was at mile 55.5. I would be pacing Devon for the next 20-30 miles depending on how it went. I was still a little worried that if I stuck with Devon for the rest of the race I might be a burden and slow him down. I had told him I would see how the run goes and decide when to drop back later in the race.

                By the time Devon came in he was in 8^th place. This was the main focus of my concern. If this kid was running in the top ten, how the hell would I keep up him? But, I was also fueled by the feeling of excitement because there was a chance he might actually win it. And to be a part of that was all the energy I needed to keep up with him. Joe gave me some last minute pep talk and reminded me to stay positive and keep Devon moving. We planned for Joe to crew for us for the next few hours. He agreed but acknowledged he would have a tougher time navigating the course solo. We had a good system going prior to this point where I would be the navigator and Joe would be the driver. Now he would be working twice as hard to make sure he found the next aid stations and to help crew us.

                Devon and I took off from Boston Store after he had his bottles refilled and a few calories taken in. We left with cheers from Tap, Joe, and Gavin. As we started on the trail, I immediately felt a jolt of energy. I was excited and needed to control myself. I didn’t want to force a pace on Devon that he couldn’t handle. I was containing my speed and converted it into positive energy instead. Devon was glad to see me knowing I’d be keeping him company for a while. I gave him some updates on the field and how our day had been going. When we hit the single track trail I got into position behind him to let him lead the pace. We reached a good hill and Devon began the first of many apologizes about his speed. Since, we had just met less than 24 hours ago we really didn’t know each others' speed. On top of that, this was Devon’s first 100 mile race and I had no clue how fast he expected to run. I told him not to worry about his speed and just keep moving. Devon mentioned how power hiking with swinging his arms may look funny, but it helps. I agreed and would continuously remind him during the rest of the race to swing his arms to help mount these hills. Once we reached the top we got to some road and then into some technical trails. I was having a blast running alongside Devon in the rain.

I wound up running behind Devon and kept an eye on him. At the beginning I was impressed that this kid had run 55 miles and was still having the speed to charge down on the descents. He would literally pull away from me on the down hills and I would have to hustle to catch up to him. Of course, when he hit the up hills I was right behind him. A few times I had to watch my footing as I came close to stepping on his heels. I kept going over the check list Joe had given me about pacing duties. I was to stay positive, keep the runner moving, and most importantly, I was never to ask how he was doing or felt. The main reason was that I would be able to tell just by looking at him. Also I didn’t need to remind him of how terrible he might be feeling if he was in a rough patch. So instead I talked about different things. I asked about his family and talked about mine. I was also conscious of not talking too much. I didn’t want to get annoying and figured I’d just see how the run went.

The time and the miles started ticking by and the rain would come and go. It was cloudy but still light enough to see out in the trails. The tree cover we were in wasn’t too thick and the wildlife wasn’t shy either. We saw plenty of deer and Devon even mentioned he came within a few feet of a Buck earlier on the course. I was enjoying the moment and still excited to be a part of the magic involved with a 100 mile race. We reached the next aid station at Pine Lane and the volunteers there were very helpful. They had a few drinks and snack choices since this wasn’t a big aid station. There were a few aid stations that were minimal because getting to the area for their set up was not an easily accessible point as some of the other aid stations that lie off of a main road. Devon filled his bottles and I filled mine with half water and half Heed. Heed is an electrolyte drink and was a new favorite of mine since having tried it recently. I wanted to help Devon as much as possible so I told him if he wanted some of my drink just to let me know. The volunteers offered a dry shirt for Devon to change into, and I could tell that he sort of wanted to, but didn’t want to waste any time. Devon thanked them anyway and we took off.

The trails were beautiful on the course. Devon was more focused on the clumps and roots along the trail but I was able to take a few glances to my right and left. All the while I kept thinking that this is incredible. I was in disbelief that Devon was running 100 miles. As an ultrarunner myself, I can understand the pain and dedication required to run 50 miles. But to run 100 miles was something completely foreign to me. I felt like I was a minor league player running and gunning right next to a major league player. And yet, it’s like they say about celebrities when you meet them, they really are just regular people. I was trying to contain my excitement and focus on supporting Devon. I had an important job and I couldn’t get too distracted. I needed to be attentive and also take care of myself. My fears of not keeping up or worse, getting injured, were enough to keep me focused. I was making note that Devon was regularly eating a gel, a salt tablet, and drinking water. It amazed me how little food he was actually eating. He was relying on his gels for calories and this is when I had an epiphany.

I had gotten into the habit during my ultra runs of eating gels but also mixing it up with real food. I would eat granola bars, avocados, oranges, potatoes, and the rest of the usual ultrarunning food choices. But what I was learning was that if my gut can handle eating just gels, then I had less to worry about in terms of my nutrition. Not only would this save space and time, but most gels have a kick of caffeine that comes in handy. It’s funny how a half marathoner would think this as a no-brainer, but once you run ultra distances you try new things and sometimes forget some of the simple aspects of racing. Essentially, when it comes to my experience I had only seen what it takes to finish these ultra races. What I was witnessing here was how to race competitively at one of these ultra races. It got me fired up and brought to life my subdued competitive spirit. Watching Devon run hard on the descents and creek crossings showed me I can run hard while running long distances. Seeing his resilience brought to mind something ultra legend Kilian Jornet had said during an interview.

“… when you run for 20-30 hours the strongest muscles are not the legs, the strongest muscle is the mind. So don’t think about the pain because the pain is there and you don’t need to remind yourself.” –Kilian Jornet

By realizing that pain is part of the process, you learn there is no need to prolong it. I had learned that after you are out there for 8-9 hours, it hurts just as bad going slow as going fast. So why not end the pain faster and pick up your feet. Devon was doing just that. He was already battling his mind and trying to finish as fast as he could. He would give himself little pep talks and had me smiling when he blurted out, “This is crazy!” I was happy for him and taking in his experience knowing full well, that that might be me one day.

We came into Ledges Shelter (mile 65) next and saw Joe right away. He was holding watermelon and extra batteries for our headlamps. This was where we would pick up our lights to prepare for the coming night. We still had a good four more hours of daylight, but with the overcast skies it was a precautionary adjustment. Tap and Gavin were on hand too and they gave Devon tons of support. I was talking with Joe and he had plenty of advice too. Again Devon was staying on track and left the aid station quickly not wanting to waste too much time there. We refilled our bottles and got moving.

Back on the trails Devon began telling me how this experience of suffering is why he was out here. He had paid good money to come out here and test himself. I’m sure he blurted this out because he had been asking himself in his mind why he was out here in the first place. I reassured him he was out here for a good reason and that he was doing something amazing. He would be accomplishing something people don’t even believe is possible. He was out here living his dreams and all he had to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The trails along this part of the course were grandiose. I understood why they called this area the ledges. Walls of cavernous rock were carved out and exposed, well, ledges. The geomorphic transformations that occurred thousands of years ago were visible along the trail. We also reached a point where there were stairs carved along the rock and it was very steep. I was thinking to myself that these stairs were hard to climb myself, let alone for someone who had already been running for 65 miles! This again was another source of empowerment for me. I had already run 10 miles with Devon and it felt like I had run three. Any moment I felt the least bit tired I would look at Devon and it would instantly wash away. Feeling this good I knew I would be sticking with him for more of his journey.

We got to the next small aid station at Pine Hollow and I could sense Devon’s frustration. I wasn’t sure if he was upset that this aid station wasn’t well stocked or if it was just a rough patch he was going through. We didn’t stay long again and started running once more. The next aid station coming up would be where Joe would be waiting. While on the leg there, Devon stopped for a moment. It was in this moment I felt completely useless. He was trying to fish out a rock in his shoe and there was literally nothing I could do. I could have offered to remove his shoe, but that would have taken too much time and the one thing Devon had on his mind was to finish this race as soon as possible. As if this helplessness moment wasn’t bad enough, I noticed a mistake I had made. When we had picked up the headlamps I took Devon’s extra batteries and placed them in one of my back pockets of my shorts. While we were stopped I checked to see if they were still in place, and they were not. They must have fallen out of my pocket during the run. I panicked for a moment and didn’t say a word to Devon. I was ashamed and felt like a letdown. As we got moving again I was planning on how to break the news to him. Luckily before I did I thought of a solution. Since I had my headlamp with me, I wouldn’t use it and just give him my batteries should he need them. It was also during this time that I was consistently asking Devon if he wanted a sip from my bottle with the Heed mix. After the fourth or fifth time of him saying no, I simply asked him if he wanted me to stop asking that same question. He gave me a firm “yes” and I understood not to keep bugging him about it.

We rolled into the next aid station at mile 73 and Joe was there waiting with some delicious watermelon. I refilled our bottles as Devon got some calories in him. Gavin was in the crowd and went to fetch his mom. The volunteers and Tap were doing their best to get Devon anything he needed. I was busy refilling bottles, grabbing extra gels, and a baggie with some Vaseline in it. Once I was ready, I caught up to Devon who was already walking ahead and striving to keep moving. As we were walking and ready to get moving again, Devon mentioned that it was getting extremely difficult to start moving after leaving the aid stations. He also said that everyone was asking him too many questions. He was definitely agitated and I don’t blame him. When running alone for 12+ hours in silence the runner gets accustomed to the silence. Then, when they enter an aid station they get bombarded with people and it can be overwhelming, especially when the runner is tired and exhausted. This was all valuable information for me to digest and made me appreciate being out here even more. I did my best staying positive and brought up the fact that the area we were in was nicknamed “Little House on the Prairie” because it looked like those beautiful rolling hills seen on that show. Devon gave me a grunt and we got moving again.

Grinding it out and maintaining movement

The next section had a few stream crossings and more thick mud. We had run over some thick sections and with the consistent drizzle of rain the rest of the course would remain the same. Just as we were about to enter another single track trail a beautiful gazelle of a woman came running out. She was jaw dropping with a hot pink top, short black shorts, and short pigtails. I don’t recall what we said to her but it was probably something like “Hey” or "Hiya.” As soon as she appeared she was gone. Both Devon and I were speechless. What was a hottie like her doing here randomly running some trails? I asked Devon if he had seen her too. He said he did and I told him that was good. It was good because it meant we weren’t hallucinating if we both saw her. That girl had lifted both our spirits and she had done it with just one brief passing.

The course led us along some road and we started hearing some loud booming. It sounded like a shotgun going off in the distance. I joked with Devon telling him that they were picking off the slow runners and that we ought to hurry it along. We would have liked to pick it up since it was relatively flat on this section, the problem was that it was also a thick mess. It was frustrating knowing we could run fast on the flat sections, but because they were so muddy it resulted in us just plodding along and trying not to break an ankle. This is also where Devon surprised me again. He was talking about how much he was struggling and asked me how I was feeling. It threw me off guard because I hadn’t been thinking about myself much at all. I instantly replied that I was doing great and that everything felt fine for me. All the nervous feelings I had before resulted in a perfect outcome for me. Like I said before, whenever I felt fatigued, one look at Devon was I all I needed to get me rejuvenated.

After making our way through a mucky cornfield we arrived to the next aid station. This was Covered Bridge (mile 79) and Joe had warned me about this section. Joe told me that it could resemble a battle zone with numerous cots and people laying on them. It was also a point in which many people drop from the race because they stop and just refuse to get up. Fortunately, since Devon was so far up in the field there were no bodies laying around. Again Tap, Joe, Gavin, and the rest of the volunteers did phenomenal helping Devon. Tap even paced with us for almost half a mile leading out of the aid station telling us about the rest of the course coming up. She warned us that there would be some tough hills. After climbing over some moderate hills I joked to Devon that Tap was wrong and those hills weren’t so bad. Of course after I said that we hit the hill she must have been talking about. It was a tough climb and had us hiking it all the way up.

Joe with the watermelon and Gavin in the back supporting Devon

On our way off the hills I knew my pacing duties would be coming to an end. Tap had suggested she could continue pacing for Devon the rest of the way after the next aid station. I agreed with that and would keep going until then. This is where some confusion came into play. The next aid station we got to was an unmanned one with one volunteer working. He had the cooler that Joe had been using for storing the watermelon with its contents intact. I was confused and decided to keep running with Devon since nobody was there to pick me up. On our way out we thanked the volunteer and just his presence there made me feel happy. I’m sure Devon felt the same knowing this older man was out here supporting solo because he cares about the runners. That compassion can catch you off guard and it really hit me how much love goes into this sport.

The course took us along more roads and then a bit more sluggish single track. We saw two young girls placing signs on the trail and soon we came out to a clearing. We had arrived to the next aid station at Howe Meadow (mile 86). I was feeling more confused when we arrived as our crew wasn’t here either. I decided to stay here and let Devon keep moving rather than having him wait while I figured things out. I told him to just keep moving and I’d see him later on. He seemed totally fine with that and thanked me for sticking around as long as I did. I saw him off and then proceeded to find someone with a phone who had Tap’s number. One of the volunteers did and I called her right away. She explained they were held up and would be here soon. I got a chance to sit down and take my wet, muddy shoes off. I was in disbelief how well I had just run a 50K with so little preparation. Normally I would have a lot more nutrition and other gear. I usually wear calf sleeves and noticed I didn’t need them at all. Again, I was grateful to be here and learning so much. I learned I didn’t need extra socks or shoes and that when you are out here racing, you need to just run. I put that into my mind and waited patiently for Tap and Joe.

They arrived and I jumped into the car and explained why I left Devon. I thought it was best to update Tap and Joe via a phone call then to keep running with Devon and leave them in the dark as to where he was and his condition. If I kept running they would have completely missed us at this aid station and possible the next few ones not knowing where we would be. They understood and we got back on track heading to the next aid station to wait for him. While waiting for Devon Tap was getting ready to pace him while Joe and I caught up a bit. He explained to me how those loud booms we heard earlier were actually air cannons to keep birds away from the crops. I laughed and told him how they got Devon and I spooked and got us moving faster.

Devon arrived and looked just like how I left him, tired but resilient. We refilled his bottle and Tap took off with him. We looked around and noticed Gavin was still with us. Apparently we would be his guardians for the next few hours until his mom would rejoin us. We decided to head toward the finish area and get some food. Joe hadn’t eaten much all day and I was really hungry too after running. I had completed my pacing duties and wouldn’t be running anymore so I could indulge my gut and eat up. We found a convenient pub right by the finish line and walked in. While enjoying the meal and talking about what we had seen throughout the day, Gavin interrupted us with an important update. His mom Tap had called and apparently Devon had gotten a surge and left her behind. That meant we had to pick her up from the last aid station. We would be cutting it close to possibly missing Devon cross the finish line as we hurried our way to back track.

We quickly got to the aid station where Tap was and got her in the car. She was so funny describing how he just left her and didn’t wait at all. He was determined to finish and finish fast. We made it back to the finish line and as we were getting out of the car we saw Devon. The finish line was in a town square and had one major street crossing between it. There were road guards and they happily stopped traffic as we cheered and followed behind Devon as he crossed the line to finish his first 100 mile race in 7^th place.  

The kid did it. He ran 100 miles along the Burning River. And finishing right after him was ultra legend Connie Gardner. Connie is a local runner that has an impressive record and quite a bit of 1^st place finishes herself. It was pretty awesome seeing Devon beat a champion and on his first try at this distance. I congratulated him and even pretended to be interviewing him just like Brian Powell of irunfar, the ultra community’s version of ESPN.

What a trip this was. One that cemented my desire to one day be a 100 miler. The Burning River 100 brought together some old friends and some new ones too. The ultra community never ceases to amaze me with the unified effort and support that goes into a race of this caliber. I was more than satisfied with the way the day had turned out. I had learned a ton and got my heart into the “racing” part of ultra running. My hippie running days would be put aside as I got the spark to run fast and see what I’m really capable of. Next on my race calendar would be a 50 mile trail race in Hell Michigan. Hell, after what I just saw, it should be a piece of cake. (see DWD Hell 50 miler recap)

Some day...

Chicago Marathon 2013 Volunteer Recap

The Chicago Marathon reflects a unique human experience along a journey of 26.2 miles. The capacity of the human heart reveals itself to those running along the streets of Chicago on this special day in October. Before the first sight of dawn, volunteers and workers are already busy setting up aid stations and course markings. Among this crowd were a few of my friends. Some were volunteering for their first time, and others for their twentieth. This day would be my fourth time volunteering at aid station #1. Ever since I ran my first marathon here in Chicago back in 2009 I’ve been back every year. I promised myself that as long as I lived in the area I would always be a part of this race. Whether my role is as a runner, volunteer, or spectator, I can’t bring myself to miss out on this magical day in the Windy City.

Five years I’ve been in the throes of the Chicago Marathon, and every time I still get chills. Watching the runners or being one of them, the effort involved is remarkable. The communication between the runners and those of us cheering them on is usually brief. Even so, there is much conveyed in those small moments when smiles are exchanged, high fives are given, or when two sets of eyes lock on to each other and much more is revealed then could ever be said. The excitement is contagious. The energy is electric. The people are amazing. This is the Spirit of the Marathon.

Aid Station #1 during set-up

Mixing that tasty Gatorade

The enjoyable frenzy that builds during the aid station set-up is wonderful. Everyone is as helpful as can be. Those who are familiar with the process are able to get things moving. That said, as a semi-pro volunteer, I rallied our Gatorade side of the street into action. I got the Gatorade jugs spread out along the street and began mixing the concentrates with water. Alternating between mixing the Gatorade in the jugs, opening gallons, and cutting bottles for makeshift pitchers, I was a busy bee. My friend “P” was happy to be volunteering for the first time and seeing her excitement added another charge of enthusiasm that helped the morning rush. Thanks to my experience and quick initiative to get the tables and Gatorade ready, we were finished setting up rather early. Arriving at 4:30am and working fastidiously we were all done and ready for the runners by 6:45am. The first runners wouldn’t be arriving for almost an hour at 7:37am. The volunteer captain Pat Onines even said that in all his years (20+) working this aid station he had never seen it set up so quickly. We had some time to chat and mingle with the other volunteers and I really enjoyed hearing about P’s first marathon. P had run her first marathon here in Chicago when she was only 16 years old. It surprised me not only because she ran it at a young age, but that she had such fond memories of that race even though she struggled tremendously to finish. That story of hers perfectly complimented a tweet I had seen earlier on twitter.

“It’s not the fastest, effortless run that defines you. It’s the run that you fight hard with to finish that etches character.” –Jen Benna

This day there would be close to 40,000 runners that would embody that same quote. Those lucky folks were ready to put themselves through pain for 26.2 miles. I could hardly wait to see them at mile 1.6 where I would have plenty of Gatorade to offer them. I would also gladly offer inspiration and motivation as best as my vocal chords would allow. The runners began running by and the onslaught of yelling and cheering began.

Runners on State street at mile 1.6

Once we ran out of Gatorade at my table we began offering high fives and more shouts of encouragement. After both waves of runners had gone through we cleaned up the mountainous piles of discarded cups in the streets with shovels and rakes. The street sweepers would be coming through soon and we would then be out of a job. I split up from my friends that were volunteering with me and went on to do my second duties of the day.

P handing out high fives

My second shift of the day was to run with my brother Marvin and other friends for a brief section of the race to get their spirits up and keep them running strong. I love doing this because where I see them at is precisely where most runners struggle and hit “the wall.” It takes a little coordination logistically and a patient eye to see them on the course and run alongside them for a little while. I got to mile 16ish via the “El” and ran into another friend, Betty, happily crewing and waiting for her friends running in the race. It was cool running into Betty and briefly catching up while we both were keeping our eyes on the course for our friends. It didn’t take long and I soon saw my brother. I said bye to my friend and joined my brother for a brief mile or two. After pacing with Marvin I was extremely happy that he was enjoying the race. He mentioned that he was loving the crowd’s energy and was even waving back and cheering with them too. It gave me goose bumps seeing him have such a good time. I felt like I was looking at a mirror knowing that his attitude at this moment was precisely how I love to feel when racing. I left him alone with the other 40,000 runners to enjoy their moment. I waited patiently for my next friends.

I ran with two more friends briefly and got ready to run with another good friend, Omar, who loves the neighborhood that lies next on the course, Pilsen. I saw him coming toward me and noticed he was looking down at the ground. I instinctively crouched low to catch his gaze. He saw me and as I stood up I could see his gaze and posture lift right up. Also a telltale sign was that he had a big smile emerging on his face. That got me smiling as I got right next to him. We chatted a bit and got into a rhythm. We didn’t say too much once we hit the crowds in Pilsen and it was perfect. The crowd had plenty to say and I was happy to be sharing the experience with Omar again for another year. Just running along the streets and seeing the other runners sharing the moment is what I love about the marathon.

Omar heading into Pilsen

It really doesn’t matter what your background is, when you are running a marathon, you are running with nature. The essence of exercising is at the core of the marathon, but when it is done collectively it brings such a flood of feelings that it really is unparallel. Sharing that moment creates a bond with those around you. Many people overlook the fact that the marathon is the only human activity in which thousands of people are essentially migrating together as a pack. One of the most captivating habits shared by other animals on this planet is only duplicated during a marathon. So if you have ever stopped and gazed at a flock of birds, a herd of wild horses, or a pod of dolphins and been mesmerized by it, that feeling of being one member in those groups and being aware of it, is undeniably incredible.

I left Omar to continue on his race and found a great section to wait for my next friends. I was seated on a median that was in the middle of a bridge. I had runners going by me on both sides. As I sat there cheering and gazing at the runners I couldn’t wish to be anywhere else. The day was perfect and I literally could have sat there the rest of the day and been completely happy. This is also where I received the most “thank yous” from the runners. It is so simple a gesture but whenever I see a runner struggling I immediately try to lock eyes with them and tell them to keep going. I know how uplifting a little motivation can be from a complete stranger. Seeing a runner walking and giving them enough encouragement to pick up their feet and start running again is absolutely the best feeling as a spectator. It’s as if I’m gently pushing on their back and letting them know their journey is tough, but definitely within their grasp.

The view from the perfect perch

As I was sitting and cheering on the bridge I decided that I had done my part today for the marathon. It was time for me to regroup with my friends who I had been volunteering with from earlier. I took one last look at the marathoners and smiled. I’d undoubtedly be back next year to relive the magic that is offered on Marathon Day in Chicago.

A Weekend in Hell. 2013 Dances With Dirt 50 Miler in Hell, MI. A Race Recap.

At some point during the race my mind begins to question my actions. It happens at every Ultra, I question why I am out here suffering. What is the point? Why couldn’t I stay at home and eat food while watching TV? Well, this last weekend I finally came up with a good answer. I am out here killing myself, because this is life. Life is not easy. It’s not always about being satisfied and happy. Suffering is a huge part of it. Whether you deal with pain or hardships throughout your childhood, as a young adult, or in later life, you will undoubtedly come across them at some point in your life. By experiencing the loss of a loved one or even in your own deterioration of health, suffering is a part of life. And so at one time or another you will suffer an agonizing pain and you will wonder why life can be so cruel. I have acknowledged this fact and applied these fundamentals toward my life now. By putting myself through the pain of running 50 miles I can gain experience of what it’s like to struggle and push forward. There are many examples and stories that runner’s could relate to about preserving. And also many people can probably relate other sports/adventures as a microcosm to how they experience life and apply it toward their lives. The distinction I am making is that by facing my fears of losing a safety net and pushing through, I am experiencing life. I’m shedding my security blanket and running straight into the unknown. I learn to adapt and rely on my inner strength to push through.

I guess what I really enjoy is the feeling of knowing I am lost, hurt, and broken. Not because I am a sadist, but because it allows me to relate my life to those who are poor and suffering on a daily basis. It is humbling and centering knowing that anyone can slip into a rough position. Feeling like you are at rock bottom is quite an eye-opener. It’s similar to a bad hangover feeling or the torment felt after the loss of a loved one. Your body and mind just don’t feel like going on. In a way, it’s making you live in the moment. You may hate it, but you can’t deny that you are feeling emotions and living in the now. And feeling alive and in the moment is what I live for. Appreciating every single moment in our lives is impossible. But I try to enjoy as much as I can. This might be the reason why I have mood swings and my close friends and family can probably attest to this. Life has its ups and downs. In my short life I’ve experienced many high highs and as well as many low lows. I’m generally a happy person. But what I’ve noticed lately is a lethargic feeling that grips me after days of inactivity. To remedy this, I have found a healthy balance between school, exercise, and spending time with family/friends as the best solution for me.

These epiphanies struck me during the race and it was likely due to the wonderful support of my friends and family. I’ll get more into the race recap now and get on with the details. Driving to Hell in Michigan was my brother Marvin who was awesome not falling asleep and driving us safely to everywhere we needed to be. My other friend joining us was Mike and he was a great addition to our group. He is a friend I met through the Muddy Monk races and had bought an 8 person tent that we would be using at the campsite. And lastly there was my good friend Adam who joined us to help pace and crew. My brother Marvin and friend Adam were a tremendous help this last weekend. They dealt with my diva-esque behavior from the moment our trip started.

The drive to Hell wasn’t too bad and once we got to the packet pickup the atmosphere was pure Ultra. Mike and I recognized some people from the previous Dances with Dirt race and we said hi to them. We talked to Dawn, the Canadian Chick, and got some last minute details about the course. After we had all our swag we headed over to the campsite to set up our tent. After some brief bumbling and confusion we were able to set up the tent haphazardly on a gentle slope amidst some soft rain. We had dinner arrangements planned with Adam’s Aunt who was from the area. We were running late since setting up the tent took longer than expected. 

We finally got to the Dam Site Inn where Adam's aunt was waiting and ordered a few pizzas for some last minute carbs. Since we were in Hell, the problems began immediately. It took the waitress almost 45 minutes to let us know that the pizza wasn’t cooking right due to some problems with the oven. We re-ordered some food and waited another 20 minutes for it. I ordered a chicken salad but when it was brought out, it was just salad. I was too hungry to ask for the chicken and began eating. I was trying to get to bed at 10 but it was already 9:30 by the time were done eating. This bar/diner was the perfect picture of what you would expect hell to be like. The entire bar had an orange tint. The wooden bar and demons decorating the place added more to the atmosphere. Ironically, the waitress was actually very friendly and apologized for the delay. As we were finishing our meal the local band was practicing their instruments for another night in Hell. If you’ve ever seen the movie From Dusk till Dawn, the scene where they enter the “Titty Twister” paints a good description of what this place resembled. Luckily no vampires showed their fangs and we left as soon as we could.

Back at the campsite, I was thrilled the tent was still standing. We parked and got settled inside the tent to go to bed. We huddled over a course map and with our headlamps quickly went over the aid stations where my brother and Adam would crew for me. We also planned where they could pace me along the course. It started to rain more and just as we were settling in we started noticing some leaks in the tent. Adam managed to adjust the canopy to stop a leak in his corner. Then I placed a towel and propped a chair to stop another leak in my corner. And then later Marvin and Mike went outside to fix yet another leak, again in my corner. I was thankful they were there and taking care of it while I stayed in my sleeping bag trying to get some rest.

The morning came early for us (5 am) and I woke up Mike as I was getting ready. Once we were all prepped we got in the car and made the short 8 minute drive to the start area. It was still dark and the runners looked like coal miners with their headlamps on full charge. Mike and I got into position and I gave him some last minute tips since this would be his first 50 miler. I echoed the advice I had received from my friend Joe Brown at my first 50 miler. “Be prepared to spend all day out there. It’s going to be a long day in the woods. Enjoy it, and run your own race.” Mike acknowledged that and said he would be fine.  The countdown began and I let out a scream. The race was on and the start line disappeared behind us. The woods up ahead had my full attention.

The first 5-6 miles felt like ghost train ride. The mist and dark woods added to the enchantment. The swamps we passed looked spooky especially with our headlamps casting shadows along the way. I was keeping pace with Mike but he quickly dropped back and slowed down since the lead pack had carried us with their momentum. The last thing you want to do in a 50 mile race is start out too fast. I made that mistake at my last 50 miler. I was planning on coasting the first few miles and settling into a moderate pace to maintain throughout the race. I also barely felt my legs and that effortless feeling is always a good sign. I was running with a group and we snuck up on the first aid station and I completely avoided it. I had only taken a few sips from my handheld and would be fine for the next 5-6 miles.

The nice thing about Ultras is that most aid stations are usually spaced between 5-6 miles apart. This makes it easy to plan and finish these races. By only focusing on the next leg between aid stations, it breaks the race apart nicely and gives you a chance to assess what you need for the next leg. Feeling confident and with the daylight breaking through the tree line, I pushed on and kept pace with some of the faster runners. I was going through the up-hills conservatively and charging on the down-hills. I raced with my strengths and planned my racing strategy around my talents. Suddenly, after crossing a dirt road, another runner and I saw a pack of runners coming at us. My first thought was that we had reached the first turn-around and they were the ones in the lead. But then they started telling us not to go that way. We followed them and soon enough there was a group of about 20 runners standing in the middle of that dirt road we had crossed earlier. We noticed an arrow marked in the dirt but it didn’t look at all like an official course marking. Some prepared runners began looking at a map they had with them and after a few minutes decided to make a right turn. They led the way and the rest of us “map-less sheep” followed them on. We continued along the dirt road and had to make another unmarked turn down another dirt road. Finally after about more than a mile we finally saw a course marking. I was surprised how bad the course was marked but thankful to be with such a large group when I got to that point. Had I been solo, I likely would have gotten lost like many others that actually did, as I would later find out.

I didn’t realize the next aid station would be where Adam would be joining me to pace for a few miles. It was a welcome surprise and seeing him and my brother so early in the race gave me a nice boost. I was happy to have Adam join me as I felt good knowing he would finally get to see me in action doing the sport we both love. We had both run various road races together, but this would be our first trail run together. We both had been following the Ultra circuit closely this past year with rapt attention. We both got really into the sport and even had our favorite Ultra Runners that we followed regularly via social media. But throughout all our shared excitement, we had yet to run a single trail together. It was a great first run because I was running hard but maintaining control. It was a perfect initiation for Adam to see how I manage the trails. After the first few scrambles, even without looking back I could tell Adam had a smile on his face. This part of the course had some very vertical hills and required getting on all fours to climb. The weather at this point was staying cool and the cloudy skies would stay there for most of the day. The rain would hold off except for a light sprinkle not lasting more than a few minutes. I was feeling good until about 5 miles after Adam had joined me. I had told Adam that I was feeling very hungry and thought the rumbling from my stomach was just hunger pangs. How I wished it was just hunger. I began to eat more sport beans thinking I needed food but I soon realized it was actually gas. I felt the need to belch but it wouldn’t come out. Then I noticed when I would speed up, like on the down-hills, the feeling would get worse. I started thinking it could be exercise-induced heart burn, which I dealt with before in other races. But this was different. I instantly thought the lousy dinner I had the night before might be to blame. But it also could have been the new flavored BeKind bar that had blueberries in it that I had eaten in the morning. Either way I knew the next few hours would be tough.

Adam helped by talking to me and keeping my mind off the pain coming from my stomach. I was feeling bloated but it was only really noticeable whenever I would run fast. I decided I needed to vomit and purge my system. We reached the next aid station (mile 19) and I tried hard to puke. No success and worse yet, I couldn’t eat anything. I took half of an avocado with me in the hopes my stomach would settle and I could get some calories in me. I took some Tums from the aid station and waved goodbye to Marvin and Adam who would be staying behind. The next leg was possible the most technical with thick brush and lots of fell trees to get around. Not to mention this was the famous stream crossing section of the race. I was so wrapped up in dealing with my stomach pain that when the first stream appeared in front of me I didn’t miss a beat and was splashing through it before I knew it. There was a runner in front of me being cautious and wading through the water while I showed no hesitation and passed him quickly. I started feeling worse as I trotted along. I kept trying to eat but every time I put something in my mouth it was tasteless and I began to gag. I tried hard letting my saliva break down some of the gel and ingest it that way, but it wasn’t working. I started to panic a little. I was calculating that if I couldn’t eat I would bonk very hard. So I decided to drink as much calories as I could. After the last stream crossing that was waist deep, I made it to the banks of Hell. This aid station was literally behind the Damn Site Inn I had eaten the night before. The town of Hell was showing me no mercy. That was, until an angel appeared. I stumbled into the aid station and grabbed my first drop bag. I decided to just change out of my soaked socks and push on. Meanwhile this “angel” (volunteer) kept offering her help. I asked for her to refill my hand held and she did it quickly. Then she asked if I wanted food or pop. I wasn’t thinking too clearly but when I heard mention of pop I asked for Mountain Dew. She quickly handed me a cup full of the Dew. Then as soon as I was done changing socks she offered to take my drop bag and place it in the dead zone (Dead zone is the spot to leave your bag after you use it so it can be returned to the start to retrieve once you finish). This volunteer was so helpful and I really appreciated the kindness she showed me.

After that small glimmer of hope in Hell I ran on toward Silver Lake. The next leg was slightly better as I could sort of drink fluids, but still no food. I had tossed the avocado away since carrying it around seemed useless. I again tried to nibble on some sport beans but it was unsuccessful. I kept burping and trying to throw up along the run. I eventually made it to Silver Lake aid station (mile 25) and again was relieved to see my crew there. Marvin was all dressed up in his running clothes and ready to pace me. This was unexpected as I was under the impression he would be joining me later at the 50K mark. It was great that he was there though because I was really suffering and his company was much appreciated. I don’t remember much of the crowd at the aid station except for the main guy that kept trying to offer me something. I told him I couldn’t eat anything and he told me to try to get something in me. I asked Marvin to grab me a cookie and I planned on trying to stomach that later on. We were out of that aid station and back on the trails. Marvin, although he had good intentions, was asking way too many questions. I tried to answer him but my mind was focused on the trails and my problematic stomach. I did mention to him that I needed to throw up and he could tell from my attitude that I was struggling. We did have some good running and my momentum would come in waves. I would feel good for a few minutes and run fast and drink. Then when the stomach turned I would slow down and focus on breathing. This pattern continued all the way to the next aid station at the start/finish area. The course routed the 50 milers to run alongside the 50K course and then pass right by the finish and continue into the woods. It was cruel passing right by the finish area, but I suppose that sort of torment is expected in Hell.

It wasn't all bad. At least the aid station at the 50K point was away far from the crowds and their celebrating could not be heard. I did manage to catch my time as I crossed the clock and saw my time was 5:22. That would have been almost 40 minutes faster than any other 50K I’ve ever done. I would later find out that the course was short on the 50K loop and that would explain my incredible time. However, at the time it was a confidence boost knowing I felt like crap and was still able to run fast. Also, another morale boost was when Adam told me I was still in the running for a spot in the top ten. This gave me encouragement and I pushed on. Marvin stayed back with Adam and I’d see them next at the farm (mile 39). I was feeling slightly better but still not good enough to run at a 100%. It was frustrating because my legs still felt great but my stomach was holding me back. I was realizing that because I was running slower, by the time my stomach got better my legs would probably be tired and I’d again finish another 50 miler with a slower time. I understand that anything can happen on a long race like this. So I reluctantly put aside my hopes of a PR and focused more on just finishing this race. I had toyed with the idea of dropping down to a 50K and calling it a day. But then the thought of seeing Mike at the finish and him having done the 50 miler and me only the 50K didn’t sit well with me. I couldn’t bear the thought of quitting unless something really drastic happened. So I pushed on.

The next leg was less than 3 miles. So that meant those 3 miles would be tough. The way this course was broken down was that the shorter the distance, the harder the trail. I was feeling tired and noticed the lack of nutrition must be affecting me. Then as I was trying to let out another burp, something magical happened. I looked at the ground and saw what looked like a cheetah headband. I was confused and as I bent over for a closer look I noticed they were a pair of soiled panties. Now it could have been my disgust from seeing soiled underwear on the course, or the fact that I was bent over, but either way in induced the glorious vomit I had been waiting for. Orange fountains expelled from my mouth. It was wonderful feeling my stomach purge and getting rid of whatever was bothering my gut. I hung on to a tree and let out the rest of the orange spew. I wiped my eyes and smiled. Finally, after about 4 hours of stomach problems I was back on track.

I was feeling much better and after a runner passed me he asked how I was doing. I told him I puked and he was happy for me but reminded me to drink plenty of fluids. I did exactly that. The next few miles were tough. It was knee deep muck and I took my time traversing it. It wasn’t too long before I reached the next aid station and it was like a buffet for me. I could cookies, chips, pretzels, and pop without any problems. The volunteer was happy for me but reminded me not to overdo it. I took his advice and hit the trails. I had been keeping pace with another runner named Jim and we both kept seeing each other. I had caught up to him and he too was glad I was feeling better. This is what I loved about this sport. The competition was there, but the camaraderie was more important. Helping each other and encouraging runners is what holds this sport together. I was feeling a hundred times better and couldn’t wait to see my crew and tell them the good news.

The next leg was long. It was almost 6 miles, but what made it seem longer was that one of the volunteers at the last aid station had told me it was only 3 miles to the next aid station. This is where doing good research comes in handy. When you’re told something false, it really gets annoying. It also makes you reluctant to believe any of the following volunteers. But fortunately I was in a much better mood and enjoyed the next 6 miles. I came across a runner who walking and he told me he was done. He was in pain and said he was going to drop out. I told him to just keep moving and put one leg in front of the other. He thanked me and kept walking. I hope my positive energy helped him in some way. As I moved further along I noticed I was really getting my speed back and began charging on the down-hills again. I got to a road that ran along a cornfield and had a thought that running through the cornfield would be fun. Sure enough, a few minutes later the course was taking us through the corn fields. It reminded me of the muddy mess I ran through while pacing a friend at the Burning River 100. This time the cornfield wasn’t a mucky soup like it had been in Ohio and running through the corn stalks was pleasantly exciting. Like a kid running and playing on a farm, I was having a blast. Perhaps the sun coming out at this time had something to do with my uplifted spirit too. The fun ended and the course took me back onto the roads.

The next road led to the farm and the next aid station. I was feeling good and happily told Marvin and Adam I had thrown up. I noticed Adam wasn’t telling me I was still in the top ten but I was okay with that. I was happy enough with a cooperating stomach. I was eating everything I could and happy to have Marvin joining me again. He got into position behind me and I apologized for being a grouch earlier. He said not to worry and that it was expected. He also said not to worry about him and to keep focused on finishing the race. I appreciated that and felt another surge and pushed on. The next leg was a short loop around the farm. That meant it was a short difficult leg. This was probably the most wooded section of the race as there was a tree to climb over every 30 seconds. I snapped numerous branches between my heavy footfalls catching them between my shins. The cuts I would notice at the end of the race were definitely made here. Marvin was quieter on this leg of the race but I actually didn’t notice it until later. He mentioned to me toward the end of this leg that he would stay back and not run the next leg. He mentioned he felt a twinge of a reoccurring IT band issue. I told him it was smart to take it easy and not push himself too hard. He acknowledged this race was hard and the rough terrain was getting to him. We got back to the farm and Adam had a wet towel ready for me. I wiped my face and neck to stay cool. The sun was poking in and out of the clouds and some sections of the course had sand that really reflected the heat. I was surprised how much sand was on the course. In fact, earlier one of the local runners mentioned that during the summer, these sandy patches can be brutal. I refilled my hand held, took another loot of gels, and got going. I told Adam and Marvin I was feeling good and I’d see them at the finish line. I was at mile 43 and only had 7 more to go.

The next 7 miles would have been smooth except for one thing. My legs began to rebel. The dreaded cramps began to emerge and I tried my hardest to contain them. I had recently been reading some research by Dr. Joe Uhan about cramps and the prevention of them. It was interesting to note that by eating salty foods or pills, the effect of preventing cramps came from the taste instead of the actual sodium. The study claimed that sodium doesn’t enter the body quickly enough to reach the blood stream and prevent cramping. Rather, the brain senses that sodium is entering the body and the mind relaxes the muscles letting them know that salt is on the way. It is all very interesting research and demonstrates how powerful the mind is over the body. Cramping is still one of the biggest mysteries of our body. No science is accurate on describing it, but this research was an interesting read.

Back on the trails I tried my best to overcome my body’s self defense in the form of cramps. I told myself out loud that these cramps are just in my mind and that they will stop. It seemed to work a little bit. I would slow down a bit and then drink or eat something and get going again. By this part of the race many of the relay teams were passing me and there was a unique dichotomy between the runners. Most were familiar with the Ultra community and gave encouragement as they passed, while some others were oblivious and clearly roadies (Road racers). The roadies would pass without saying anything and in some cases almost pushing me aside. I was too tired to be irritated and just focused on keeping my body moving. I was letting things be the way they are. Then, suddenly, as I was relaxing into a comfortable stride some beautiful legs appeared in front of me and got me very excited. It was a girl dressed as a pussy cat and wow! Her costume was revealing! A sports bra and briefs were the perfect motivation to keep me moving. Just watching her tail (she was wearing a tail) wagging right in front of me made the next few hills a piece of cake. I was happy and hoping to have this motivation for a good while but as soon as it began it was over. I arrived at the last aid station and she swapped out for another runner on her relay team and I would not be seeing her again. As I was pondering these thoughts Adam and Marvin’s voice brought me back to the moment. I was surprised to see them here since I was expecting them to go on to the finish to wait for me. They had surprised me here, and it was very welcomed. Adam was cheering for me and already celebrating with a beer. He told me more cold ones were waiting for me at the finish. This got me excited too and I couldn’t wait to get the last 5 miles done.

I was off and ready to finish this race. I looked at my watch and noticed I had an hour and 15 minutes to finish 5 miles in less than 10 hours. My original goal was to finish between a 9 and 9:30, and my secondary goal was to finish in less than 10 hours. There was a good shot of making at least my second goal happen. I was happy when I realized this and started pushing myself to get it done. I began to cramp harder and was eating salt pills like candy. In fact, I was eating the last one so fast that I choked on it and spit it out. It was of no matter as one of the relay runners told me there was only a half mile to go to the finish. I had been hearing the music from the finish line for a good 5 minutes and knowing they were only another 5 minutes away got me moving faster. I looked at my watch again and I would have about 5 minutes to spare if I wanted to finish in less than 10 hours. I stepped on the gas and soon found my way into a clearing and the finish line was in sight. There was a big crowd and the cheers gave me that wonderful coveted feeling of being supported and admired. The feeling at this moment is special. To feel the encouragement from others that leads to a great accomplishment is quite a fantastic feeling. As I crossed the finish line I was elated but still conscious of the fact that it was a group effort. As the medal was placed around my neck I was happy I made my time goal of under 10 hours(with 3 minutes to spare) and the race was officially over for me. I walked with my brother to congratulate another runner who had just finished her first 50 miler. I told her she did awesome and that the course was tough for someone to do their first 50. She smiled and congratulated me too.

I would make my way over to the finish area and wait patiently for Mike to finish. I thanked my crew again and finally got some beer in me. It was fun watching the rest of the finishers coming in and cheering them on. Thoughts began to enter my mind. All the running, sweating, bleeding, and vomiting was over. As I sat on the ground and looked up at the sky I couldn’t feel anymore alive. The triumph of completing a task you set out to accomplish is the reward. But the journey to that finish was more than just that. It was the cement that connected me to my crew and the new friends I made along the way. Us being out here and living in nature transcends the mundane environment we encapsulate ourselves in our daily lives. The outdoors and the adventures we seek bring us back to our roots as a human animal. Our instincts, our strengths, and our weaknesses are all put out there. Getting the chance to spend a day connecting with yourself and those around you is truly a gift. A gift that even Hell can't keep away from you. With that in mind, will I ever stop running? Only when Hell freezes over, and then I’ll get some ski’s ready.

*Mike would eventually finish his first 50 miler and would be one of the last official finishers to get a medal. He crossed the finish line in 13 hours and 14 minutes.