How Did I Get Here?

Quote of the Day: “It is well that war is so terrible – otherwise we would grow too fond of it.”

- Robert E. Lee

The distant sound of a phone ringing.

“Damn Dow Villa has such thin walls, I can hear other rooms’ phones ringing, 10 minutes before my wake up call.”

I had set a wake-up call for 0430 but didn’t sleep much past 0200, only tossing and turning. Then at 0420 I heard the distant phone ring a few times wondering why no one answered it.

At 0425, my phone alarm went off.

At 0430ish, I heard that distant phone again. As I faded just below the surface, I heard it for a third time and looking up (knowing it was past get-up time), I saw the little light on the phone blinking.

Seems the phone was set on mute. Great setting for a wake-up call.

Well, here I was again at zero-dark-thirty in the Dow Villa ready to run another 26.2 miles through the Sierra Nevadas for the ninth consecutive year. Only this time it was my lovely wife snoozing in the room instead of one of the Horsemen.

Like my plan called for, I showered (trying to keep the damn shower curtain from touching my skin. Damn ancient bathroom) and got dressed in the still of the night.

I was not happy…

But I faked it….

At about 0500, we made our way out to the dark parking lot and headed over to the High Sierra Café (formerly PJ’s) where I would indulge in my annual pre-race gluttony of eggs, hash browns, toast, and coffee.

As I approached it, I saw something my eyes could not process. Looking beyond the “Open 24 hours” writing on the glass door, I saw that there wasn’t a light on in the entire place.

This is not the way it’s supposed to be.

Booo, Lone Pine, booo indeed.

How can a 24 hour café be closed on the one morning of the year that I need it? Did they not know that the 24 meant in a row?

I took this amazingly well as we wandered back to the hotel. It was around this time that I ran into two other runners and one of them looked at me just a beat too long and said “I know you. You are Jason. I spent the last couple of days reading your blog. It’s great.”

This was the third time on this trip someone had recognized me from my blog and my first thought was “Oh no, now is not the time. I am seething from the café situation and I don’t want this guy to think I’m some uppity jerk.”

But for those of you that know me, you know I am not exactly what you would call sociable before a race.

Some people call it “game face” or “preparing for the rigors ahead.” Some might go as far as assoholic but if the truth be told, I’m just a grumpy morning person and moreso before a big race.

I politely smiled and acknowledged his recognition of me (and of my wife, too, which kind of freaks her out when that happens) and wished him a good race.

I mean, what else could I say? He’s read all of my deepest thoughts and knows all my boring stories so what could I really relay at that moment?

Here is the comment on my blog I got from him later:

Great race report. Trivial as it is, I’m wondering what you did for breakfast (since the “always open” place was closed). I’m the guy who stopped you in the Dow Villa lobby early Saturday a.m.(which gave my brother the chance to refer to me as a stalker since then). I’m also curious how come you’ve never done the 50K course.

My response:

Sam, it was good to meet you and be recognized, even if I was “in the zone” and not all that friendly. Plus I was smarting from being disked a miss on breakfast. I ended up having a banana and a Special K bar my wife had in the car. I almost did the leftover calzone from Pizza Factory but it was cold and soggy so, yeah, not so much. As far as your brother, don’t listen to him. It’s always neat to get recognized and at least someone is reading my drivel. To answer your question, the simple answer is that I’ve run the marathon since 2000 before they had the 50K option and I always want to compare my time with the same distance each year. Plus I have the Bishop in two weeks so 26.2 in Lone Pine is enough!

As I stated, I went with a Special K bar and didn’t want to tempt my tummy with the taste of grease and shit from the only place open in sight: CrapDonalds.

It was time to go so we got into the car and made our way out to Tuttle Creek, parking amazingly close to the start line, even if we cut it pretty close for people trying to get by.

Hey, I got a marathon to run here!!

It was a bit chilly at the start line but not as cold as some years. I could get away with a short-sleeve shirt and no gloves at the beginning.

One thing I introduced this year was a bandanna.

No, I haven’t gone gay, I just found these at Wal-Mart months ago and bought two of them for future races. They have some kind of little beads sewn inside that are supposed to stay cool for a long time. I didn’t know if I’d need the coolness but I thought that at the very least, it would keep the sweat out of my eye.

And anyway, how cool is having Old Glory wrapped around my head?

I won’t even mention what the other pattern is. You’ll have to wait for Bishop in two weeks.

When the time came, the sun started to peek over the mountains and we were off.

This year, I didn’t stress about time. My goal was to keep a decent, comfortable pace and try to keep running, knowing I would be forced to walk at the most treacherous parts.

The first 3 miles, I averaged 15-minute miles. Depressing, yes, but I knew it was coming and I also knew I would be making it up on sweet, sweet Hogback.

This year, I was not too chatty on the way from the start through the uphill shitfest of the first three miles. I put on my iPod and tried to just trudge the best I could knowing better times were to come.

I did run into a lady that had introduced herself to Ben yesterday when I was talking with him. Her name was Diana and Ben had known her father who was a runner himself. She had mentioned to Ben that she had never run this course before so when she somehow caught me at about mile 3 (we were still climbing), I started talking to her to let her know it was not ALL going to be like this.

She appreciated the tidbit that Hogback was coming up, although she thought it was 9 miles downhill. I told her it was more like 7 with a couple of miles flat afterwards. I laid out the general terrain for the rest of the race for her but after playing yo-yo with her down Hogback a couple of times, I got ahead of her and never saw her again.

Ends up she split at the 50K mark. Neither of us realized the other was running different distances today.

Things were going fine and I tore up Hogback like it owed me money. I was taking great big long strides and feeling strong. The temperature was staying cool so I was not overheating and I got into a really good groove at the perfect time: going downhill for 7 miles.

The day was beautiful, I was feeling great, and I suppressed my little stress monkeys that kept wanting me to worry about over-exerting and/or going too fast.

When you run a race as many times as I have, you tend to know where the difficult parts are but because I was having such a good day, those difficult parts didn’t seem as difficult and more interestingly, they seem to come up faster.

I was running in places I knew I had walked in past years and milestones kept coming up sooner than I expected.

Now don’t get me wrong, the “hard” parts were easier but not “easy.” The difference this year is that I accepted their difficulty and kept telling myself just to get past it and it would end. I had more faith this year than any other year.

At the 13 mile mark, I was at 2:36 which meant I was well within the realm of beating the elusive 5-hour mark. I had never done it and I winced a little that I had a shot at it because I knew it would take a lot and wasn’t 100% sure I was strong enough to give that much. I knew I had it in me but didn’t know if I had it in me to pull it all out which is what I knew it required.

Last year I got to Mother Hill and decided that I needed to run up it without stopping to walk.

As I got closer this year, I got that same feeling and I knew I would have to run up the fucker like gangbusters.

Well, it hurt and it was not exactly gangbusters but I ran up the heart-stopping, lung-stealing Mother Hill for the second year in a row and only second time in 9 tries.

I was too drained to be proud at the top. I drank some water and sports drink, grabbed a few pretzels (most of which I threw away moments later) and headed out trying to run down the hill I had just donated part of my soul to get up.

To my surprise, I was able to do a respectable amount of running after Mother Hill. There were some rolling hills that I could have done without but last year, I really bonked at that point and started to sweat uncontrollably. I was overheating.

This year, I ran when I could and walked when I had to. Without overheating, I was able to keep a good pace going up these long, ridiculous hills and just tried not to let them get the better of my good spirits.

I made my way down to the Alabama Hills where a little surprise waited for me.

They had plowed the trail so that it was soft dirt. As I stepped into it, I sank up to my ankle in silty dirt. My first thought was “Oh shit, it’s gonna get into my shoes and tear up my feet like shards of glass.”

I had such a good pace going, I didn’t even want to stop to empty my shoes out. Yeah, I know that makes no sense, people but not much does at mile 13.

My second thought was “Why in the hell did these idiots do this? Why make a difficult course even more difficult by such a random, useless manner?”

I trotted along, gliding over places that stopped me dead in my tracks last year and I really started to believe that the sub-5 was a real possibility. My legs had shown no indication of cramps, I felt hydrated, and my energy level was great.

I was simply having a great run.

Then I got to the Buttcrack, which I lovingly call the horsetrail hills at about the 18 mile mark.

My approach to this was easy: do not anticipate that the hill in front of you is the last one. Just negotiate it and accept what is on the other side.

This worked well and I was able to run, actually RUN, some of these trails which is a first. I couldn’t believe it, I was actually running and best of all, I FELT like an ultra-runner, unlike in past years when my feelings at this point was that I was a fake because a real trailrunner would be able to, you know, run trails.

All the drama was not of the good variety though.

In my little running frenzy, I could see I was gaining on another runner who appeared hurt. He had to be because he was tall, lanky, and obviously built for this sport. I was not going to catch this guy if he was in full form so that little limp must mean he hurt himself and to tell the truth, I felt no satisfaction that I was going to be passing a “trail runner.”

But when I caught up to him, he did not move aside. He was walking and I know he heard me but he would not do the generally accepted protocol of stepping aside on a thin horsetrail to let someone by.

He just kept going and I actually had to step outside the trail to pass him.

I thought this very unsportsmanlike if not unbelievable. Right before I passed him, the humor of the situation did not escape me.

Here I was, in the middle of NOWHERE, …

…on a horse trail on a mountain without a man-made structure in sight, and I was blocked by the only other human being anywhere around.

When I got to the final hill, I didn’t let myself believe it was the last. It was the biggest son-of-a-bitch in the series and I could reach forward and touch the trail as I climbed but I just kept pushing until I got to the top.

But it hurt.

Hurt like DEEP.

When I got to the top, there it was. The aid station that told me that my uphill climbs were over for the day.

I had about 3 miles left and looking at my watch, I had to do better than 10-minute miles. It was really steep downhill for a mile and then two miles of flat out to the finish.

For the first time today, I had doubt.

But I was going to give it a try.

I shot down the hill and had a better pace than I had ever had. You think downhill is easy but at this point in the race, it’s hard to keep up with gravity and the footing was horrendous. It was loose dirt and rocks so you really had to put a lot of effort not to twist an ankle.

By this time, I was single-minded. I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed. My stress skyrocketed with the thought that I might or might not have the sheer will to keep this up to the end.

If I didn’t, it would ruin the race for me. If I just missed it and had given up at any time in those last three miles, it would haunt me.

When I got to the straight away, it was going well but the slight uphill hurt me. Then I didn’t see the 24-mile sign even though I knew I should have been to it by then.

Things were not all rosy at this point in my life.

As I got onto the short stretch of road, I heard someone coming up behind me and he blew past me going fast. He was a compact, fit looking guy who was running the 50K so he was obviously on a higher level than me; a fact that made me feel no remorse when he passed me.

As we made our way through a residential area, I saw him peel off to the right and disappear. When I got to that point, I saw the trail indicated LEFT and remembered that we head back onto the dirt for another mile before getting kicked out onto the highway for the finish.

When I realized this, I knew I had to try to warn him. I opened my mouth and yelled as loud as I could while turning left.

“HEY!!!! HEY!!!!!!”

Suddenly, a got a huge cramp in my side caused by this yelling.

Damn, that hurt.

I yelled again, trying to be louder to make up for the lack of volume the cramps caused. Once again, my side seized but I kept running.

A few minutes later, I looked back and saw him coming up behind me again.

I didn’t know if he heard me until I talked to him later. He told me he heard me.

“Good, because it hurt like hell” I joked.

Once he passed, I saw two other people nearby. One in front of me and one coming up behind me. I had done the math and despite my efforts, I didn’t think I could break the 5-hour mark. But I was in so much general pain and fatigue, I didn’t care. I knew I had given it my full measure and now shifted my sights to another motivator.

Two years ago, I came in third place in my age group. It was the first time in over 20 races that I ever placed at all.

Last year, I came in 2nd in my age group.

Therefore, I knew that with one of my better times on the table, it was entirely possible that I could be in the running for another finishing place.

BUT….

If I WAS that close to winning, then either one of these two guys COULD be in my age group and if they just edged me out, I could get bumped to 4th by just a few minutes or even seconds.

Then I would have to face not getting my best time, not breaking five hours, and not placing because I let one or two guys edge me out within the last mile.

Shit, it’s gonna be a dramatic finish.

I had to summon everything I had left and lay it on the line. Every time I thought I didn’t have the strength to pull out that last little morsel of will, I would speed up out of sheer fear.

I did NOT want to face the mirror and accept I was beaten because I had been weak when it counted.

I caught up to the guy in front who had a yellow shirt.

I have long ago lost my ability to judge ages so I had no idea if this guy was in his 30s. All I knew is that he had a bib the same color as mine so that meant that if he was in his 30s, we might both be in the final race for a mug.

The guy behind me (in a grey shirt) caught up a short time later and I was disheartened to see that he looked in better physical shape than me (on any day, not just at this point in the race) and that his bib was the same color as mine. He could have definitely been in his 30s so he was a second threat to my placing.

Like the pros do, we kind of huddled together and altered the lead back and forth. Every step was misery so, unlike the pros, the pace was a caricature of what they run.

I tried to get ahead and run when they walked. Grey shirt go ahead and I thought he might have me if he just kept going.

Then he stopped and started walking. My thought was “I will start running until he starts running and then I will walk.”

As I ran toward him, I expected him to start running but to my surprise, he just kept walking. In fact, I thought to myself “Start RUNNING. This is KILLING me!”

But he didn’t and I kept my little promise to keep running. I passed him and of course, turned up the speed just a bit which really, at this point, was like 9-minute miles instead of 10!

This told me that this guy was human and I knew I had to get ahead of him so he couldn’t catch up. It kept me going even when I saw him start to run. Now I was the rabbit.

He did catch up and we all ended up together as we came into the last aid station with just 1 mile left.

Three runners.

Totally spent.

With one mile to go.

Who was going to want it more?

Damn, I didn’t want it to come to this. I didn’t want drama at the end. I didn’t want to have to dig this deep.

There was no animosity. There was no ill-will. As we ran into the aid station together, we even joked a bit about having a mile left and it was like we all knew we were going to race that last mile and would be buddies before and after. But during, it was going to be a brawl…

I knew I was not going to stop for the aid station. I didn’t know if they were or if they were going to expect me to. But I didn’t and kept trotting. Looking back, they both were veering for the tent.

It was my chance to make my move.

I got a pretty good lead but not enough to be comfortable. I saw them take off again and Grey Shirt was in the lead. He was coming up fast and I pushed my weak body forward. I don’t know if I could match him step for step but somewhere in the back of my head, I knew that once I got to the highway and got on pavement, that was my element. Not only do I do most of my training on pavement but I’m always a strong finisher.

I took another look and he was close. I walked up the steep embankment painfully aware I was walking and was heaving once I crested the hill and started down the highway.

I got into a pace but didn’t want to look back.

I don’t think I could take it if I looked and he was right there.

Don’t look back.

I got on the pavement and it was like stepping onto the moving sidewalk at the airport.

I launched.

Picking up speed, I could feel the pain and the fatigue but the speed was also present. I was writing checks I would pay for later but I was FLYING.

I finally had the nerve to look back and Grey Shirt was a speck on the horizon. In fact, there was another runner I had never even seen in front of him but not in danger of catching me.

I saw a yellow speck even farther back.

It was at that moment I knew that I would be the next runner to cross the finish line.

The thought flitted across my mind that I can throttle down a little and glide in but immediately, I realized that I was so very close to finishing. I could SEE the end so I picked up the pace even more.

I must have covered that last mile in less than 8 minutes.

My lungs were on fire. My legs were shredded.

But I was being drawn to the finish line like a comet, accelerating as I got closer.

I crossed the line with the blissful thought of……

“I’m done running today.”

Looking at my watch, this is what I saw.

My lovely wife was there waiting for me and I wallowed in the knowledge that I was done.

To tell the truth, I thought I had broken my own record but later I found out that I had nailed the course in 5:04:36 ( a mere 43 seconds faster) back in 2005.

But did I place?

Looking at the board, I scanned the ages and it looked like I had placed either in 2nd place or in 3rd if they counted the guy who downgraded from the 50K to finish the marathon before me. Only time and the old fella doing the announcements at the awards ceremony would tell.

Meanwhile, I needed something to eat.

Carrie was leading me around like I was Rainman and we I hobbled over to the canopy where they were serving a $6 lunch as a fundraiser.

Like every year, I thought this was a good deal since I was ready to eat my own foot. Luckily, they had sandwiches.

Carrie paid my $6 and was helping me put together my lunch since my dexterity was a bit lacking. We put together two sandwiches along with some grapes and cookies, the paper plate was full. Carrie grabbed another plate for the salad that was there and started to dish it up when the guy in charge came over and said..

“You only paid for one meal.”

Carrie responded with the explanation that the food was for me and she was not eating. She was just helping me dish my food.

This did not seem to compute.

“But you only paid $6.”

“Yes, and we are getting food for one person.”

“But you are using two plates.”

“This is just for the salad. It’s for him.”

“But you only paid for one.”

I stood there and could not believe this was happening. As though we were trying to get over on this guy and he gave us a look like we were STEALING his food. He actually gave us the hairy eyeball.

I had just ran through the desert for 5 hours, was obviously struggling with just staying vertical, and now we were being accused of stealing. If I wasn’t so hungry, I would have thrown the food at him and hobbled away.

Carrie was not too happy about this either. She said “Fine, we will dump the salad on the plate..” and she proceeded to do just that.

On top of all my food.

And then in a classic move, she turned to him and said “Here!” and shoved the empty plate at him. He took it a bit sheepishly and we walked away.

I tried to not let this bother me. I tried to enjoy my food but it did tinge the experience.

After I ate, Carrie took me to the high school where I could shower before the awards ceremony. At least this year they had hot water (unlike last year where I was admitted into the Polar Bear club) and I felt much better after the shower.

Getting back to the park, we waited around for the ceremony…

… and to my surprise, my name was called for SECOND place in my age category. I guess they didn’t count the guy who dropped from the 50K into my category and beat me in after all.

When I walked up to get my mug, the race director asked me to come back next year (like she did for everyone) but I was ready with my answer.

“No can do.”

She looked at me puzzled.

“I’m being deployed. I’ll be in Saudi Arabia.”

She didn’t really have a good answer for that except “Well, that’s not a good plan.”

I assured her I would be back in two years as I brought my mug back to show Carrie.

I was glad to have only the third award I had ever earned in all my 25 races.

We headed home after that and Carrie drove the entire way. Most of the time I was sprawled out in the back alternating between sleeping and trying to sleep. My body was finally realizing the full extent of what I had done to it and the piper was there to collect.

We did make a short stop for Carrie to get something to eat at CrapDonald’s and I couldn’t resist. I had a burger and some fries along with a strawberry shake. It all tasted wildly good but didn’t sit well on the ride home.

When will I ever learn?

By the time we got home, I felt fully beat up.

But I had done it.

Ninth year.

2nd best time on this race.

25th race overall.

Another adventure complete.

Free Advice for Today: “When your children are learning to play musical instruments, buy them good ones.”

- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 3rd, 2008 at 4:48 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.