*let me forewarn you that I cuss a lot – there’s no other way to tell this particular story for my own reasons, if you cant handle it, go elsewhere
At 345 am I was seriously considered just not going. All the way there I was fine with just saying screw it, turning around and getting back in my warm bed – the snow was already falling – but I was on autopilot and I just put all my gear on and went. I had a very emotional and stressful last few weeks, personally and professionally – too much to even try to explain and lets face it, that’s life, everyone has their own crap they’re going through, that’s not special or interesting – but I hadn’t broken down yet, and it was all still in me and I had to do something with it all. I was going to re-purpose all of the stress and pain and emotions into fuel and go forward.
So here we are. I arrived just with enough time to walk from the drop off area to the corral and they were counting down to go before I could even figure out my head lamp or take any fuel. Fourth time on this course, but doing 50 miles instead of 50k this time. This race starts two hours earlier, so its pitch black dark at 5am. And the powers of the universe decided this day will be unseasonably cold….with enough rain to muddy up the trails so much that your shoes are getting pulled off your feet and youre sliding all over the place, falling on top of each other. And it snowed, and it sleeted, and when the sun finally decided to show its face, the wind gusts picked up to 50mph.
There are checkpoints where they mark your bib to ensure and certify that you’ve reached said location before the cutoff time. The first few checkpoints I was congratulated and told I was way under the cutoff and doing great. I was beaming. I was looking at a 10 hours finish if I stayed on pace. Is this real?? Speaking of pace, I know my pace by now. Ive done this enough times. I don’t wear a gps watch or track it on my phone, I don’t need to. I know where I need to be and where I am. I am have no sense of direction, but this much I know – I always know how fast Im going.
Every checkpoint was the same thing – and when I finished loop one (the 50 milers have to do this lovely, hilly, rocky 7 mile loop three times before they head out through the rivers to the finish line).
After loop one I am congratulated and told to have fun on loop two, my bib gets marked. Im as high as a kite. I cannot believe Im looking at a PR, nevermind one of nearly two hours, after not running more than a mile the last 6 months. Im connecting to folks along the way, like I do in every trail race. Im so happy.
Then a bib marker says, Hey, your over, you need to step it up and run as fast as you can to the next check, that’s about 15 miles up there or youre done, GO.
Wait a minute – how the hell is that possible? I went from having an hour of leeway to I better book it up this giant ass hill or Im done? Now this is not a case of me losing track of time or misjudging my pace or anything like that. The only way this could even be possible is a) I went off course somehow (this is about a 7 mile discrepancy right now and let me assure you, I don’t have an extra 7 fucking miles in me right now like I did last year when I went 8 miles off course – and it was 40 degrees warmer and dry)….b) my bent bib *I folded it, effed up my timing chip c) I missed a timer, went around it or something, which seems absurd to me….or who the hell even knows at this point but Im just going to pull it out of myself and run as hard as I can….I don’t have time to ponder – I have to GO.
So I did. I was probably pulling an 8 or 9 minute mile pace….booking. Now this is either 22 or 29 miles into it, depending who you freaking ask ((there are like 6 different course workers all saying different things and checking computers and deciding)).
The lady at the next checkpoint, the main station at the park – checks me off as completing loop two. I ask her to clarify, because of what just happened. She does. OK. Drama over. Im going to go finish loop 3. Im back on track. Im 6 hours into it right now with maybe 5 hours to go.
I go get some food real quick Potatoes and salt of course.
Then it happens.
‘Excuse me miss, you didn’t make it. We radioed into the last check, they marked you off the watch list.’
‘Im sorry?’
‘Just sit over there until we can pick you up.’
Now Im flipping out. How did I go from a 2 hr PR to a DNF? Why cant any of you figure this shit out? I want to see the RD (who was very, very nice btw).
I wait. And wait. Minutes feel like hours. Im shivering. Im aching.
Now imagine waiting. All of a sudden you cool down, you cramp up, your muscles cease, your hormones go haywire. This is horrible. Even if you figure yourselves out (ftr this IS NOT the first time that THIS has happened to me on this course)….you just completely fucked me over, its going to be nearly impossible for me to warm back up and get on pace and finish. I waited approx. 30 mins for them to figure it out. Why is this a thing?
Now a couple other people are being told they didn’t make it either – they were both heading into loop 2 not 3. At this point I literally don’t care if I was on two or three.
We quickly decide to take things into another direction. We band together. We go rouge.
We turn in our badges, sign a waiver, and decided to run to the finish line anyways!!!!!!! BANDIT STYLE.
I mean we couldn’t just sit around any longer and freeze.
But you know what, we really couldnt run anymore. We ultimately walked, hobbled, meandered, stumbled, fell, cried, laughed, hallucinated, wandered….for approximately 5 hours to the finish line. There was blood, there was mud, there were tears and stories and hugs and pictures – there are cuts and bruises I will never be able to explain. I rolled both ankles. I put my hand through a rotten tree stump (its true). The entire bottom of both feet are blistered now from the last 5 hours of soaking wet feet sloshing around – blisters that formed on the back of my ankles where the bottom of my pants strategically rubbed too many times into the top of my socks, were ripped open and bleeding….I could barely walk now.
Poor Steve by the way, has been receiving such texts as:
– Im halfway done and going to crush this
– Im done, come get me
– Nevermind, Im finishing
– I have no idea how long its going to take
He just parked and waited….for hours.
We finished. Me, Michelle and Josh. The three amigos. The three crazy, beaten up, hilarious amigos.
If you look me up its going to say I only ran 22 or 29 miles (whatever they freaking decided) but you know what – I kept going and – we got our medals (and our bibs ftr). We know what we did. Its our story and we like it.
Im so glad we kept going.
I want to close with a thank you to the Man Upstairs for getting us all through it, to my hubs for all his patience and support yesterday and a congratulations to everyone who showed up and gave it their all and my (sweaty disgusting) hat’s off to the ones that kept on running – I am amazed by all of you.
*note* at one point we thought about steeling a golf cart that still had the keys in it but we didn’t 😉
haha
See you in a few weeks Flying Pig – then ATR24!!!
Recent Comments