Wrestling With What Defines Us

I didn’t run this morning.  It was on my schedule, 3 in the morning, 5 in the evening, a nice easy day after a tough weekend.  I felt really good after my biggest week and weekend so far this year.  It was a normal morning.  I woke up at 5:45, checked the weather (on my phone, which is also my alarm clock), 40 degrees and raining.  No real response other than thinking about what to wear.  My closet has a window, the blinds are always closed.  I don’t know why I opened them to look outside, I never do this.  Once I did, there was no getting dressed.  I told myself I’d make it up tonight, but I felt cowardly all day.

Mile 1 from Kings Valley Highway

My penance tonight, was 38 degrees and raining with wind.  That seemed about right and fair.  I took off for the Baskett Slough, with a wind at my back and light rain.  

I was really pleased with my weekend.  16 miles on Friday and 20 miles on Saturday and then a weekend at the coast with very fresh feeling legs.  I ran out and back on Saturday, very close to dead even splits.  As I was coming back on a country road just outside of town, traffic seemed unusually heavy for a Saturday morning.  As I got closer to the high school, I figured out why.  A local high school boy, Charley Engelfried, had died last week while wrestling.  He pinned his opponent, was declared the winner and then collapsed as he was leaving the mat.  He was pronounced dead soon after that, the cause, an enlarged heart.  I was running passed the high school, 15 minutes before the memorial service.  It seemed surreal to be nearly 50 years old, 18 easy miles into 20, running passed those on their way to mourn the death of a 17 year old boy.

Mile2

The wind was really starting to pick up as I turned down the gravel road.  The ducks are starting to pair up in the Baskett Slough, I disturbed them 2 at a time today.  

Mile 3, entering the Baskett Slough

 The galvanizing force of a child dying is sobering.  Even people that didn’t know Charley, and I didn’t, speak with reverence when talking about “the wrestler”.  As I was running away from the high school, I wondered if he considered himself “a wrestler”?  I ran passed a house where my daughter Jewelia, who was 13 at the time, sold her first violin.  The parents were buying it for their daughter.  She had never played a violin.  The parents didn’t play either.  I wasn’t sure how they would, in any way, evaluate the quality and value of the instrument, so I told them what we payed for it, how long Jewelia had played it etc.  The parents asked if Jewelia would play it for them, she did, and they bought it.  I wondered if the girl still played the violin, I wondered if she ever played it.  I wondered if she considered herself “a violinist”?

A little passed mile 4, Baskett Butte trailhead.

The rain started coming down heavier as I started up the trail to the top of Baskett Butte, and as I climbed ice started to mix with rain.  As the trail turned toward the South, I could feel the wind that would be in my face the whole way home.  At the top of the Butte, the ice in the rain, driven by the wind stung as it hit my face.

Mile 5, the top of Baskett Butte, looking toward home.

It seems there should be a difference between what defines us and how we are defined.  For years, as a child, Jewelia had a hand written motivational phrase pinned on her wall.  “We can’t know who we are, until we know what we can do”.  I don’t know who said it, I’ve googled it many times with no success.  Being “The Wrestler” didn’t define Charley but I hope the hard work and discipline of wrestling helped him define himself.  Music doesn’t define Jewelia, but I know that every aspect of her is influenced by her love and commitment to her music.  Lawyer, father, salesman, artist, astronaut, runner are all just descriptions, aspects of us all.  It’s our pursuit of these things, our finding out what we can do, that tells us who we are.

I planned this run to be hard coming back.  I stopped to take pictures on the way out, with the wind at my back and daylight still in the sky.  Now, with darkening clouds in front of me, and a strong wind in my face I ran strong home. Attacking the hill coming out of the Baskett Slough, checking my watch at the 2 miles to home mark.  “If I hammer it, I’m home by 6:15”.  Tonight, thanks in part to thoughts of my reluctance to run in the morning and thoughts of Charley and Jewelia and everything that defines us, I ran well.  Tonight, I was a runner.

3 Nights In the Forest

Western States will have many elements that I have very little experience with. First, there’s the 100 miles, more on that later.  I do very little trail running, very little hill running and very little night running.  So, when I found out about a group of runners in Corvallis that run up McCulloch Peak, in McDonald Forest, and then back down. I thought, trails, hills, night, Wednesdays in Corvallis, that sounds perfect.  Ah, the best laid plans.....

Night 1
I’d been nursing a tight lower back for a few days, I had voices in my head and outside my head telling me I probably shouldn’t, but the emails inviting me to come run seemed so nice and genuine and, I'm stubborn and self centered so I decided to run anyway.  The "group" meets at the Oak Creek Trail Head at 5:30 on Wednesdays and hikes/runs up to the top of McCulloch Peak and then back down.  I misjudged how long it would take to get there and arrived at 5:40 which is dark!  There were several cars in the parking lot, and only one trail visible, so I figured they may have a 5 to 6 minute head start on me.  I'll take off and either catch them on the way up or meet them on the way back.  About a quarter mile up the trail I came to a “T” with trail going in either direction, I guessed left, went another half mile ish and came to a fork, I guessed left again and ran for a little bit until the trail turned into a bushwhacked trail at best! “This can't be right” I ran back down to the fork and took off right.  It might be worth noting, at this point, that not only was it pitch black but very foggy, and there were glowing eyes in the woods.  I went up the right fork for a while and the trail just ends.  I see a little bushwhacked trail and follow it for a while but it's really overgrown.  It seemed doubtful that 5 to 8 people ran through here, but I got down on my hands and knees to examine the tracks in the mud just to be sure.  Deciding they hadn’t gone this way I turned around and ran all the way back to the original “T”.  I remembered that there was a little kiosk at the trail head, and thinking maybe there was a map and that I was sure it was less than a quarter mile back to the trail head, I headed back.  Yes, there was a map, but, it's really small, behind glass with condensation and I have no glasses on.  There was no way I could read it. I run back up to the “T” and head right, which is slightly downhill, get to another fork, one way goes up, the other down.  I choose up!  For the first time I'm now on a serious uphill, with switchbacks, so I'm now convinced I'm on the right trail and start to calculate how long it should have taken them to get to the top and at what point I should see them coming down and give myself a time to run to.  I get to that time and still haven't seen a soul.  Well, I’ve seen eyes, so, without departing into an meaningless discussion on whether woodland critters have souls, I decide to run for another 5 minutes and if I still haven't seen anyone, I’ll head back and call it good.  5 more minutes and no sign of anyone, 'cept the eyes in the woods.  I turn around and run the downhill switchbacks in the foggy black, successfully making it back to trailhead.  No falls, a few stumbles, no running off a cliff and no badger attacks, and also, no cars in the parking lot except mine.  So, by process of elimination, they must have gone right and then right....and then who knows?

I did get and hour and 40 minutes of peaceful solitude, running with the woodland creatures.....just not quite they way I'd planned it.

Night 2

I made sure I wasn't late to meet the Corvallis, run in the forest at night, group.  I was about 10 minutes early, and introduced myself to each as they arrived, 10 of us in all, plus 4 dogs.  They were all good looking runners, and very nice and friendly.  A few from the group are running Western States this year.  We started off down a forest service road, NOT on the trail that I started on last week, so I had no chance of ever going the right way last week.  The ascent, for them, was a mixture of walking at a pace I couldn't match and running.  I ended up running much more of it than the others because I just couldn't walk that fast.  1,600 feet of elevation in 4 miles was a grunt, to say the least, but the clear skies and a full moon were amazing.  On the way up I noticed that the batteries in my headlamp were dying and the light was getting dim, it wasn't really an issue going up because the pace was slower and I could use the light from others mixed with mine to see my footing.  We took about a 5 minute break at the summit, looked at the stars and the city lights, which was really cool, then headed down.  It didn't take long on the descent to realize I had a problem.  A, they were flying town the mountain, B, I couldn't see well enough to keep up.  I was staying within about a 100 meters, occasionally losing sight around turns.  At one point on the way down I saw lights in the woods to the right of me at about the same elevation.  I remember thinking that if that was them, they must be further ahead of me than I thought, because the trail must have turned back somewhere, so I picked up the pace as much as I dared.  My light was almost dead by this point.  The next 15 minutes was a surreal combination of, "I don't remember hearing a creek beside the trail on the way up.......oh, that stump looks familiar.......I don't remember a deep muddy section like on the way up.....I'm heading downhill and obviously east.....I'm at least going the right direction".....and then, an orange gate and a road.  Sulpher Springs road to be exact.  I have no idea where I missed the turn, although it was obviously just before I saw the “lights in the woods".  There were two houses a little ways down the road, so I headed that direction to see if I could get directions to the trail head.  Having made it to something resembling civilization, heading back into the forest didn't seem like a wise idea.  The first house I came to was inhabited by a very nice man named Gene, who was a retired Timber Faller, I'm not sure what that is, exactly, but he mentioned it about 24 times, so I remembered.  I asked how to get back to the forestry station and he said it was about 4 miles and gave directions that really didn't seem correct.  As I was debating following, what seemed like flawed, directions or heading back into the forest he offered to drive me to the trail-head, which I took him up on.  This meant several stories about logging in the old days and asking me if I knew several people, I didn't know any of the names he asked about.  By the time we got to the trail head, all of the cars were still there as were a few of the runners, they seemed genuinely relieved to see me safe and informed me that a group of 6 had headed back out to look for me.  My first instinct was to head out looking for them, but was wisely advised to stay put.  I thanked them and told them they could go, that I would wait for the rescue party to return.  

Then things got really strange.  2 guys with mountain bikes showed up, they were heading into the forest, on bikes, at 8:00 PM.  We asked them to let the search party know that I was back safe, if they ran into them.  Then a giant semi truck comes pulling up this dead end single lane
road, explaining that he was coming from Albany, looking for hwy 99 and got lost, making my getting lost look damn near normal.  This was a HUGE truck, the kind that looks like it could house a small family in the cabin.  He then proceeded to spend the next half hour trying to turn the truck around using the driveway of the forestry station.  There was no way he was going to make it without a bunch of cars being moved.  Cars that belonged to the people in the search party.  Eventually 4 of the search party of 6 returned, explaining that all had figured out that I had run down to Sulpher Springs road so the other 2 were going to go that far looking for me and then head back.  We were able to move enough cars for the truck to get turned around and he, at least,  was rescued, though I have no confidence that he'll get where he hopes to go.  The 4 left a note on one of the cars of the 2, said that they were heading home, and that I should feel comfortable doing the same.  I had told Jeanne I should be back to my car by about 7:15, the trail head is out of cell range so she didn't get any word from me til almost 8:45.  She was, justifiably, worried.  I owe a huge thank you to everyone, but especially Frank and John, who not only stayed out on a very cold night looking for me, but were very gracious in responding to my apology email and inviting me out to try it again.

Night 3

I know this isn’t very suspenseful but, I made it!  I didn’t get lost, I didn’t fall down and it was so much fun.  We started out in heavy fog, which makes the headlamp less of a light and more of a vapor machine, but about half way up we rose above the clouds and it was clear, warm and unbelievably beautiful.  As it turns out, the trail that I thought I missed last week, wasn’t even correct, I actually got off course even before then, so had I decided to double back, I may not have figured it out.  This is, and will be, a great weekly workout for me in preparation for Western States, provided I can stay unlost until then.

Shoes n Such

Baskett Slough Trail

2011 will be my year on trails.  Of my almost 14,000 miles run in the last 8 years I  bet I don't have more than 200 total miles on trails.  That will change big time this year.  Ive got 5, maybe 6, trail events coming up prior to the big trail event, Western States in June.  I've scouted out some places to get some good trail training close to home, and I even got some trail shoes!  After a lot of research, advice and a frustrating sales person experience, I've settled on the Brooks Cascadia 5. 

My new Brooks Cascadia 5

 I'm a pretty loyal shoe wearer.  My first pair of running shoes were a pair of Saucony that I got from a discount rack.  My second pair, was the result of "expert" guidance, Asics 2070.  Since then I've worn nothing but the 2000 series Asics, going through a new pair every 6 to 8 weeks.  I just took 16 pairs of them to Goodwill a few days ago.  So, switching to a new shoe is a pretty big deal.  My most important feature in a trail show was traction.  The trail running I have done in road shoes has, at times, been more like skating than running.  My first run in the Cascadias was on very slippery trails.  We had a lot of rain and then temps in the 20's.  Muddy, icy and slippery in the Baskett Slough.

Icy but no wind

The Baskett Slough

More Baskett Slough

They felt really good.  I ran pretty aggressive, especially on the downhills and my footing was very good considering the conditions.  I didn't make a pretty sharp downhill turn and ended up crashing through some brush, so there are limits to their traction.  Fortunately there was brush off trail to run into, and not a cliff (insert smiley face here).  The sole is thicker than my road shoes and at times I felt a little disconnected from the ground, but I also didn't feel the rocks on the gravel road either.  This will be a once a week run for the next month or so, until the days get a little longer.  I will also do several night runs here in preparation for Western States, now that I'm less afraid of the things that go bump in the night.

Furry Friend

Working on Mysteries, 2011

The big event that put all other plans temporarily on hold has come and gone.  I’m in for Western States.  I can now start to put 2011 together, but it also provided a very nice 1 month mental running vacation, that I think I really needed.  I only ran when I had nothing else to do, instead of planning my days around my running.  I ran 71 miles for the month of November, it’s been good for my legs, good for my head and good for my life.

Now, my next 6 months will be preparing for Western States.  I’ll figure out some races between here and there, but everything will point to the 100 miles between Squaw Valley and Auburn on June 25th.  I ran my first longish, 16 miles, run since October this morning.  I actually ran 14 miles last weekend but it was with friends, talking the whole way.  I really think that hours spent running alone in your own head is as much a part of ultra training as miles on the legs.  I’ve spent the majority of my 7 years running, thinking that the way to make running harder is to run faster, and I still think that’s true, but I need to learn some new things.  I need to search out some hurdles that I generally avoid.  The big one is hills.  I don’t mind running hills, and I ran some pretty big ones last year, but I don’t go looking for them.  And I need to be running downhills as much as up hills.  That’s almost the entire Western States course, you’re either going up steep, or coming down steep.  If it’s windy, I usually try and start into the wind and finish with a tail wind, I need to start reversing that when I can too.  On runs over 3 hours, if Jeanne crews me, I need to have predetermined breaks, like an aid station would be rather than have her where ever I decide I want a break.  I’m not sure how it got stuck, but the Bob Seger song Night Moves has been stuck in my head, “working on mysteries, without any clues”.

So this morning I started out with a pretty strong wind at my back, yesterdays heavy rain having also enticed thousands of worms onto the road.  As I left the pavement and headed into the Baskett Slough my road companions changed from worms to newts, everywhere.  I ran some hills, not big ones, but enough to make me think.

As I was getting dressed to run, I was watching a show about poachers in Africa and the effects they have on different species.  Their concerns were the same problems that humans hunting creates in general, that we search out the largest, most dominant male animals.  This leaves lesser males to reproduce, which weakens the breed of the species over time.  As I was running through the Baskett Slough, I thought about how many friends I know that have chosen to not have children.  Smart, strong, healthy people deciding to not breed, while Harvey Danger Lyrics, “Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding”, rattle around in my head.  I wonder if, as a species, we aren’t poaching ourselves, and why?  Careers, travel, not wanting to bring children into a cruel world, “my dogs are my children”, I know all the words, but I don’t know if that answers why.  Maybe it’s pretentious to believe that having children betters the world in some way, but millions will be born every year without those hopes, anyway.

As I made the turn to head south at Van Duzer Vineyards, with 5 miles to go, the headwind brought me back to running.  I could see rain coming over the coast mountains and figured I should make it home before it hit.  I could feel fatigue in my legs during the last few miles, strange to feel that after 15 miles at an easy pace.  The oak trees are bare with the exception of moss and mistletoe, by the time they have their leaves, these 16 mile runs through the Baskett Slough will be an easy day, and Western States will be getting close.

2010 A Space Oddity

I had three goals for 2010.  I had a lot of things I wanted to do, but only three that could really be considered goals.  Those three were, PR in both the 10k and Half Marathon, and complete a 100 mile event.

Then, some funny things happened on the way to the Forum.  For starters, I didn’t even run a half marathon, all year.  I did PR in the 10k, minutes after learning Nathaniel had been in a car accident that brought a house down....well at least a garage.  My 100 mile attempt, while a great learning experience, ended much the same way Nathaniel's car and said garage did.

So, I thought I’d salvage what was left of a Summer of hard work with an attempt at Qualifying for Boston at the Tri Cities Marathon, in Richland WA last weekend.  I needed 3:30 to qualify for Boston, 8:00 minute pace.  It’s not so much that I’ve gone out too fast in the last few, it’s more what those early miles have taken out of me mentally. 

Just before the start.

 Halloween Day, I ran my smartest and probably best marathon ever. I didn't hit the split button on my watch, I just was casually aware of my time.  I know the first mile was 7:47.  I know at mile 6 I was 12 seconds behind pace.  I know at mile 9 I was about 30 seconds back.  I know that I went over the half marathon mat just under 1:46.  I know that miles 14 and 15 were both just under 8:00 minute pace because I was worried that I was slowing down, but thought it strange that nobody was passing me.  I was more relaxed being a minute behind pace than I’ve ever been being a minute or two ahead.  

Mile 14 and blue skies.

 Mile 16 was up and over the cable bridge with the now very strong cold winds at my back.  The short distance with a tail wind wasn’t worth the tightening in my back.  Coming off the bridge I slowed quite a bit and tried to get my back loose.  Once I got back up on the river path with the wind in the face my back felt better, this was really the first time, at mile 17, that I really concerned myself with my
time.  I was now 2 minutes back.  I felt strong and was ready for work to begin.  The wind was now 25 mph straight into our face and would be that way the entire 10 miles coming back in.  I ran as hard as I've ever run in a marathon from 17 to 20, but my times were 8:15, 8:21 and 8:23, this felt like 7:30 effort and maybe it was.  The wind was so strong at times that it would blow me off line, at mile 20, almost 4 minutes down and not able to get close to 8:00 pace.  I went through a very strange 2 minutes of pragmatism arguing with desperation and realized, it was over.  I took my foot off the gas and enjoyed an easy run in.

While 2010 won’t end with a long list of accomplishments, it might be my most satisfying year running.  The run from The Dalles to Sisters really cemented my love for multi day journey running that will be a big part of my running in the future.  I also think I truly understand some things that I thought I knew, but I really didn’t comprehend.

I’ve got a lot of ideas for 2011, but all of those decisions will have to wait until after Dec 4th.

Raised from the dead

I've been fine.  I realized, in the week following Lean Horse, that I had a ton of base miles in my legs that didn't get used up.  So,  I picked a marathon 8 weeks out. I've been putting in a lot of speed and tempo runs.  And so, at the risk of jinxing myself, I'm in pretty good form to take a shot at a Boston Qualifying time on October 31 at the Tri Cities Marathon in Richland, WA. 

2011 Boston Marathon sold out in 8 hours when registration opened this week, so if I do run under 3:30, I'll be qualifying for 2012.

I've made a few other conditional decisions.  I'm going to enter the Western States Lottery next month.  My qualifying time is still good.  If I get in, I'll assume this is the universe guiding me.  If I don't, I'll figure some other things out.  Regardless, I'm about 99% committed to running across Oregon next summer.  I'll run from the California border to the Washington border along hwy 97.  When, in the summer, will depend on Western States.

My last long run is home from work tomorrow.  I've been working half day on Saturdays for the last 6 weeks, so my long runs have been the 18 miles home from work, plus what ever extra miles I need.  Tomorrow I just need the 18, which is nice.

9 days to Richland.  Weather looks good, low of 42, high of 59, with no rain.  I'm feeling pretty good about this! 

Wild, crazy and dead: Lean Horse Hundred 2010

Lean Horse, my first 100 miler.  It would be tempting to start at the end and get it over with but.....Jeanne and I flew into Billings Montana on Thursday.  It was the closest airport we could use frequent flyer miles, but it required a 5 hour car drive to Hot Springs.  It was 103 degrees when we landed, and “big sky country” was as advertised.  As we drove, I found myself grateful for the way the plan had worked out.  The long drive gave a sense of arrival, I anticipated a long drive back as a sense of victorious departure.  With a belly full of purchased food and from an air conditioned car it’s easy to appreciate the beautiful emptiness of Montana and Wyoming.  But as we drove past the site of the Battle of Little Big Horn, without seeing the buffalo roam, or the deer and the antelope play, it's hard to imagine wars fought over this desolation.

Where buffalo roam.

We did see deer and antelope and even buffalo but not in the same quantities of another nomadic species.  Sparkling Harleys, rolling, like middle aged water, downhill toward Sturgis.  It’s strange how it is that some people get stuck in places others escape to.  And most of these places shared one of three adjectives; wild, crazy or dead.  

The Black Hills of South Dakota are absolutely beautiful.  Lean Horse is a very well organized event, and the town of Hot Springs and everybody affiliated with the race made this seem like the perfect choice for my first hundred.  I was well trained and well rested, and I fully expected to have very fresh legs early.  I also had a plan, and in the end it was having a plan that proved to be my undoing.

Just before the start.

There were aid stations every 4.5 to 6.5 miles apart.  The third aid station was at mile 16 and this was the first one that Jeanne could meet me at.  My plan was to start with two bottles of Infinit, that would last me until I met Jeanne at 16.  After that, I figured it would take me less than an hour to go from aid station to aid station so I would pick up one bottle of Infinit at each aid station.  The Harbach aid station was at mile 35 with 6.5 miles of moderate uphill after.  I planned on getting to Harbach around 1:00 PM and figured it would be getting hot around then.  I figured that would be the first time I’d take 2 bottles with me.

On the Mickelson Trail

This might not have been a bad plan, but the mistake was having no alternative plan.  The first 16 miles took me longer than expected, I felt a little sluggish to start and the Argyle road hill from mile 4 to 16 is a pretty decent climb frequently into a headwind.  It was also close to 80 degrees by 9:00am as I came into Argyle aid station.  I had used up my 2 bottles and had been out for 3 hours, I should have taken 2 new bottles but I didn’t, because that wasn’t the plan.  This lack of adaptation created a death spiral for myself.  The more dehydrated I got, the longer it took me to get from aid station to aid station, the longer it took me, the more dehydrated I got.  I was really struggling at mile 25, I tried to go pee but couldn’t.  I was worried about how far behind my expected paced I was and I panicked.  Had I taken the time to rest, hydrate and pee at that point, I think I could have corrected my earlier mistakes, but I didn’t.  I had already thrown up once so I didn’t want more food, I took one bottle and off I went.  By the time I hit Harbach at mile 35 I was 2 hours behind where I expected to be, but I took a break anyway.  I drank some coke, changed my socks and toweled down with a cold wet towel.  I left that aid station with 2 bottles and ran that 6.5 better than I had for quite a while.  Jeanne was surprised to see me when I got there, and I told her that I thought I was starting to “come around”.  I was even starting to think positively, I told myself that if I just took it easy through the heat of the day, and it was now in the 90’s, and kept making progress that when it cooled down at night I’d be ok.  The slight downhill out of the Mountain aid station brought with it a new problem, a stabbing pain in my lower back with each step.  It was ok if I walked but almost unbearable if I ran.  I initially thought it was muscle cramping, but as I went along it felt less and less like muscle pain.  As the trail flattened out around the 45 mile aid station it didn’t hurt quite as bad as it had on the downhill. I took 2 more bottles and a little food.  In addition to already obvious dehydration issues I had created for myself, I also wasn’t eating enough.  The Infinit is 220 calories per bottle, above and beyond that, I’d had a few bites of peanut butter and jelly sandwich, half a granola bar, a cliff shots gel and a half a banana.  All by itself I don’t think this would have been a problem and I think I would have eaten more once the weather cooled down, had I made it that far.  I reached the turn around in just over 12 hours, still well under the cutoff but more than 2 hours later than I’d expected.  My lower back hurt every time I tried to run and I started thinking about the prospects of walking the 50 miles back.  I say thinking, I did the math and realized it could be done, but the idea of walking more than half of something I had referred to as a race I just couldn’t reconcile.  

“The saddest of times were when I was racing and no one else was aware of it.”
John E. Morelock, Run gently out there, 2010

As I walked the bridge that crossed the highway leading to Hill City, I just couldn’t convince myself that I wanted to walk for 16 to18 hours through the night.  I decided somewhat by submission that if I couldn’t run, I didn’t want to continue.  It was around this time that I looked down and for the first time noticed that my stomach was huge.  And then pieces started really falling in and out of place, and I also realized for the first time, that I hadn’t peed all day.  I didn’t know what it would take to get myself back to being able to run, I knew I’d have to get rid of the water my body was collecting.  I wondered if I kept walking, would I eventually pee and would I then be ok.  I wondered if I rested for an hour, would that help.  It was in these wondering moments that I lost the will to continue.  I knew something was wrong me, though I didn’t believe, at the time, it was dehydration.  I told the people at the aid station I couldn’t be dehydrated, “I’ve had 40 oz of fluid per hour all day” and I believed that.  After I officially dropped out, Jeanne drove me back to the Harbach station with medical aide to have someone “look at me”.  They said I was severely dehydrated and insisted I go to the hospital.  I argued with them too, insisting I’d had plenty of fluids.  I told the same story when I arrived in the emergency room.  By now, however,  I was fighting against armed resistance, a prostate exam revealed an enlarged prostate that would not allow a catheter to be inserted despite 2 valiant attempts on their part and a lot of screaming and crying on my part.  As they were preparing for a third attempt I begged for other alternatives, even offering to drink Drano if necessary.  I eventually convinced them to let me try and pee on my own.  I managed to produce a few ounces of something that looked like iced tea, which gave them something to analyze and allowed them to start an IV.  I had to stay until I could pee again on my own and that took several hours but I did, it still looked like iced tea.  My lab results indicated a low grade infection, but it also showed my electrolyte levels to be good.  By this time I had started thinking about each aid station, and Jeanne had my splits recorded and I began to realize my big mistake. My plan had no back up plan. It feels really stupid to say this now but, I truly didn’t anticipate or prepare for any deviation from this plan until around mile 60.

I’ve been examined by my doctor, once home, and had new lab work done and according to Dr. Weaver I’m “Back to perfectly normal”.  I don’t think there was anything wrong with me other than dehydration and bad decisions.  I’m back running, feel great and on to new challenges.

There is more to it than that, and maybe it’s why it’s taken me so long to write this.  We lie to ourselves all the time, sometimes it’s for the best, sometimes not.  Sometimes it allows us to gain perspective on things, sometimes it allows us to postpone feelings until we can deal with them later.  But regardless of the reasons, or explanations of subconscious, I’ve always maintained that at 2:00 AM, staring at the ceiling, everybody knows the truth about themselves.  This was my first DNF, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve quit.  Despite slogans like “Just Do It”, and phrases of “giving a 110%” and “laying it all on the line”, most of life is really just an exploration into what makes us surrender.  I’ve never run a race without a goal time.  I’ve never had a goal time that I didn’t think I could accomplish.  Sometimes I beat this goal time but I usually don’t.  At some point in any race, if you push hard enough you will find out where you quit.  When I hear marathon runners or now ultra marathon runners refer to a 5k as “easy” I know, they’ve never tried running one fast enough then.  We all will quit if pushed hard enough.  What made this DNF so hard to swallow was it wasn’t because of how hard I pushed, it was because of decisions I made.  At mile 55, in the condition I was in, I know I made the right decision to quit.  But the truth is, I was intimidated by 100 miles.  I expected to have no problems until mile 60 because my brain needed to have no problems until mile 60, because I couldn’t get my head all the way around 100. When I struggled, early, I panicked.  I’m intelligent enough to have done the arithmetic to figure out how much fluid I needed given the pace and the heat, I just refused to address a problem in the first 60 miles because I was scared.  That was a lot of training, a lot of money and a lot of patience on Jeanne’s part for me to come to that conclusion, but it’s the truth.