Thursday night I finished up packing everything I thought I
would need. I ran the race in my
head. Shoes? Check.
10 Pairs socks? Check. Lube, tape, drop bags packed? Check.
The plan was in place. My crew
would consist of my lovely wife Jessica, who would be accompanied by my mom, as
well as my pacer, Andrew Siniarski.
Andrew and I left Friday morning, picked up my bib and swag,
and left for our hotel. We arrived at
the hotel and convinced the proprietor that we really did want a room with two
beds, that we would not be sharing a king sized bed even if it did as he put it
“has plenty of room for two”. We ordered
pizza, and discussed some the next 36 hours.
We laid out our equipment, and started getting ready for the next day. While doing so, Andrew and I met a fellow
runner named Isaac Espy. Isaac, or as we
referred to him, Alabama, loaned us a
much appreciated can of orange spray, as the hotel room stunk like an ashtray,
despite having “No Smoking” stickers all over the room. 2:00 am was going to come early, so we hit
the sack at 8:00.
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We awoke at 2:00 am
Saturday and got prepared, which included finding a McDonalds for coffee. We arrived at Squires Castle
at 3:45, checked in, and waited for the gun.
I completed the loop, running at what I felt was a very
conservative pace. I arrived back at the
castle (mile 6.2) after 1:09:54 (11:16 pace) to be greeted by Andrew telling me
angrily to slow down, that I was going to kill myself. Andrew is scary on a good day, and this is
what I hired him to do, so I decided to trust him. This would be a theme that would develop over
the next 27 hours.
Just before The Polo Fields, I saw Alabama, not looking real great, had a bad
leg. We spoke for just a minute, and he
confirmed that he was “fair to middlin’”.
I proceeded on to Polo Field aid station (mile 17.2) in 3:19, where
Andrew was waiting for me. I was happy
to see him, as he sprung into action, asking me my condition, filling bottles,
making sure I was eating as I should. He
got me out very quickly. I was feeling
great, and I remembered telling him that when I saw him at Boston Store, I was
going to want him to push me like crazy.
It turns out he has a decent memory.
It got a little wet in the last few miles before Shadow Lake
aid station (mile 26.2) in 5:13, so when I pulled in, I wiped down my feet,
changed socks, and felt so great with my street shoes, I didn’t feel the need
to change, big mistake. Everything was
going according to plan at this point, running conservative, feeling good, and
staying hydrated. No problems, just
enjoying some great company. Just after
leaving the aid station, I stepped onto the first hill of the day that was
slicked with churned up ankle deep mud.
I couldn’t wait to see my crew at Oak Grove (mile
41.7). When I arrived in 8:51 after
struggling through miles of mud, I cleaned up my feet, changed shoes, and got a
new shirt, which was wonderful. The mud
was beginning to take it’s toll, but I was totally willing to accept it as part
of my foolishness in not changing shoes at Shadow Lake. I ate some soup, chips, and gave hugs and
kisses to my wife and mom.
I arrived at Snowville Aid Station (mile 50.4) in 11:28,
this is the heart of coyote country. I
was greeted by one of the most helpful groups of aid station staffs in the
race. Tape had come off of my nipples,
and chafing was occurring. The bugs were
really getting bad, and I didn’t want to remove my shirt. It turns out, “Hello Kitty” duct tape was
waiting for me. I can’t thank these
workers enough!
I was running a great time, so when I left Snowville, with
only 5 miles to meeting my pacer Andrew, my spirits were flying high. It took me 1:37 to run five miles. At one point, I was slowly walking down a set
of greasy mud-covered step, and slipped.
I landed square on my butt. As I
was lying in the mud, trying not to pass out, I realized that the race was
mutating. This mud was making this
tough. I ran into Boston Store (mile
55.5) at 13:05, 50 minutes later than expected, greeted by Andrew, from 300
yards away, with his hands raised high, in the universal sign of “What is going
on??” The last 5 miles had sucked the
life out of me. I felt like there was
nothing left in the tank. My feet were
starting to hurt. But, I had my
pacer. Life was great.
Andrew and I set out
from Boston Store, walking to loosen up again.
We run together, a lot. I think
we have heard each other’s every story, multiple times. Andrew was behaving as he normally does,
which is to say obnoxious, loud, and foul.
Most of the time it is enjoyable, I just could not take it at that point
though, so I suggested that silence was golden.
Just shut up! For two seconds just shut up! Stop taking!
Andrew suggested to the quiet woman just ahead of us that if his
commentary was bugging her, it would continue, so she should speed up, or slow
down. That’s when we met Beth
Simpson-Hall. On and off for the next
five or six hours, we came to realize that we were in the presence of someone
who we would aspire to be over our running careers. She has run 37 100 milers, this successful
completion would turn out to be her 38th.
Between her and her husband, they ran out of room for their buckles, so
they keep them in a bowl on the end table as a conversation piece. I love ultras. I get to meet the best people.
I ran into the Ledges Shelter (mile 65.7) in 16:03 with my
crew waiting for me. At this point,
eating was very difficult. The only
thing I could stomach were a few slices of cheese quesadilla, a few sips of
broth and some coffee. I also drank a
Five Hour Energy. I changed my shirt,
and socks. It was great to see my crew
again.
At Pine Hollow (mile
70.6) my mind was totally broken down. I
knew it would be the start of the low point, or the “Doom Phase” of the
race. So, knowing it would be that way
anyway, I think I just got a head start.
I couldn’t eat anything, although Andrew and crew literally crammed
sustenance into my mouth. I was in a
horrible mood. My feet hurt, really
bad. I had instructed my crew to remind
of a few things at this point, such as, this was my choice to participate in
this race because I relish the pain.
While this is true, it was nothing that I wanted to hear at that point. As I was walking out of the aid station in a
very grumpy, nasty state of mind, I got to meet the folks from the Kent State
Podiatry program. They skinned off my
shoes and socks, cleaned my feet with alcohol, and mole skinned them up. I left feeling ok. Not great, but ok.
For a few miles, we had a great power walk on; this caused
my mood to improve slightly. We were
picking them up and laying them down at a 16 minute pace. I was feeling decent, but my feet were really
starting to kill me. This lasted until
Little Meadow. Leaving Little Meadow was
the nail in the “Feel Good” coffin. At
one point, on a muddy hill, I pondered why people do this. I said that’s not even fun. I hated it; I just wanted it to be over. Andrew very patiently listened to me. His patience seemed to aggravate some part of
my mind. The next logical step was to
think about the likelihood that I would not make a cutoff. I had Andrew go through multiple calculations
of what the slowest time I could run and still make cutoffs. I was absolutely positive that I would not
make the 30 hour cutoff. None of these
thoughts were improved by the fact that we missed a few turns between Little
Meadow and Covered Bridge.
We entered Covered Bridge (mile 79.6) at 21:01. Andrew forced a cup of broth and potatoes
into my hand. The staff brewed a cup of
coffee for us. As Andrew filled my
bottles for me, I laid down on my back in the middle of the aid station,
looking at the roof. It felt really good
to stretch out, but my feet were the problem.
I mentioned that, and Andrew told me that we need to fix it now. I uttered some nonsense about something,
probably incoherently. I think he sat me
in the weeds and took off my shoe and taped up my foot. I vaguely remember this process.
Howe Meadow (mile 86.7) was great, as I got to see my crew
again. This was a quick stop. I sat down, drank a few sips of coffee. I am not sure that I ate anything at
all. I had a random person do a
calculation of how slow I could run and still make cutoff. The answer was 27.27 minutes per mile. Literally, I could walk slowly; really,
really slowly and still make cutoff. I
wasn’t convinced. At this point, there
was literally nothing going on between my ears.
We left the aid station for the final assault. My feet hurt really badly, and my mind was
non-functional mush, but I had the best pacer I could have asked for, and he
was running the show.
The last 14.3 miles
were a terrible blur of foot pain.
However, there were two high points.
The first of which was when the sun crested the horizon through the
trees, and my heart felt light since Pine Hollow. The second point was coming around the corner
at Memorial Parkway
and seeing my crew. With 5 miles left,
and a ton of time, I knew I would finish.
My feet were throbbing, and I am sure Andrew was sick of my crying, but
he stuck with me, and didn’t shove me into the river.
I finished at 27:36:51, collected my buckle, and had a few
pictures taken with my crew. Overall, it
was a great race. Like every race, I try
to take something away from it. First,
research my foot issues. Second, eat more
solids sooner, and save the liquid fuel for the middle / end of the race. Big thanks to my crew and pacer! As you already know, I couldn’t have done it
without you.
