The Longest Day

First of all, a warning. This post will likely be long and will surely be melodramatic. It's really a post for me to look back on, but all are welcome to read it. You've been warned.

The sun was setting as Joe and I laid our camelbacks down on the top of Cairn's Climb to rest. 45 miles were behind us, the Texas heat was behind us, the hills were behind us. It was just an easy 5 mile coast back to camp at dusk separating us from all of the pizza and gatorade we could get our hands on. We both laid down, flat on our backs for a well deserved rest. It had been the longest day of my life, I had no doubt faced my toughest self-induced physical and mental challenges of my life today and I was victorious! I can not say I did it alone, nor would I want to. I was thrilled! If you looked at me at that moment, you would see an energized human being ready for any challenge the world could throw at him. There was no trace of the days struggles. Joe and I laid there comfortably, in no hurry to finish our run. He said "This is what it's all about." It's an often used phrase, but at this moment, they were the most true words ever spoken to me...

We started our run at 6am. Our crew was made up of me (a young, inexperienced yet ambitious trail runner turned ultra runner), Joe, and Allen. Joe is as experienced as a trail runner can be. He's a race director of several trail runs, inlcuding the Rocky Raccoon 100M and the Bandera 100K, among others. Allen is also quite experienced, and just a few weeks away from his first attempt at Western States. I was out-classed for sure, but I was going to hang with these guys because I'm mentally tough (or so I thought), and I'm ignorant enough
to believe this.

The first 13 miles were uneventful. The air was warm, and a hot day was obviously in front of us. It was humid, and by 9am it was already in the mid-80's. We made our way up and down Ice Cream hill and the three sisters, and I thought to myself that these hills weren't so bad. We stopped at our first home made aid station, refueled and
headed out for the 10-mile lodge loop. Around mile 15 we started seeing the gang from the Rogue Running group. Everyone looked strong and healthy. They were all around 15 miles also, coming in the opposite direction, and they were scheduled for 20. Their day was almost over. As we passed the last of them around mile 20, I started
to get hot. It was well into the 90's at this point, and not yet noon. This is when we started taking occasional breaks under shade trees, to cool off and hydrate, before we got back on the trails. These breaks would get longer and more regular as the day went on.

We finished our first loop of 25 miles and headed back into camp. Most of the Rogue crew was back at camp getting ready to head into Bandera for some food and a swim in the Medina River. I cooled off, ate a slice of pizza and we went back out. As I took my first steps out of camp, I had no clue what I had just gotten myself into.

Mile 27 - I realized I was severely over-heating and knew I better slow down. Joe was getting hot and tired also, and was all about slowing down. But Allen was strong and continued to push the pace. Joe and I are work horses and followed the leader as much as possible. It was as if the heat was not hitting Allen, he ran up to Ice Cream Hill for our second pass, and power walked right up to the top. I could no longer follow. I took about 20 steps up the hill and stopped. The heat was pounding the top of my head, I felt dizzy, I could barely think clearly, and did not even attempt to talk. Joe and Allen disappeared around the corner. I took a few more steps and almost fell backwards. I remember it so clearly... I tried every mind game I could think of. Just one foot in front of the other, I told myself. You can do anything, if you believe in yourself, I tried to convince myself. You are a tough SOB, quit feeling sorry for yourself, I screamed to myself. None of it was working. So I put my head down, emptied my mind, and slowly climbed to the top. I don't know how long it took, it seemed like hours, but I eventually made it to the top. Joe and Allen were resting at the top under a tree, and Joe told me to sit down and rest. I did as I was told, I never said a word. I knew I couldn't speak, I didn't have it in me. I was sure if I tried, I would mumble or slur something that made no sense. I just kept questioning how I would ever get back to Joe's truck, and even if I did, I thought that it was dangerous and stupid to continue. I also thought about how I could not quit, it wasn't in me. Everything that drives me in running and in being was based on the foundation that you have to believe in yourself, and that you can never quit. It was OK to lose, it was OK to fail, but it was not OK to quit. It was my lowest low I've ever reached on the trails. And then I fell asleep. Minutes later I woke up to Joe's voice, "OK Teej, get off your ass. Time to go." I didn't question it, I got up and followed them down the hill.

With 2 miles to go to the truck, I slurped the last drops from my camelback. I was walking already, and my walk was getting slower. I was beaten. Joe and Allen were a hundred yards in front of me, and I occasionally saw them look back to make sure I was still there. They knew my condition, and knew it wouldn't help to wait for me. They had to keep me moving by staying barely in eyes reach, and they did that for 2 miles. I walked most of the way, I jogged occasionally, but it was fruitless. I thought to myself that I had to quit, not for my sake, but for their's. Joe was getting his last tough run before Hard Rock; and Allen, Western States. They didn't need a poser like me slowing them down. When we finally reached the truck, I sat down and apologized for holding them back. I was looking for a response that would indicate they would prefer to go on without me. Instead they said that it was all about time on their feet, and I should continue. So I slammed a 20-oz Coke, a 32-oz Gatorade, and poured ice cold water all over my head, neck and back. I sat under a tree and cooled off. I felt better, but knew there were hours of 100 degree heat in front of me. We were only at mile 35.

After a good 15 minute rest, we got back on our feet and headed out. Allen mentioned that his stomach was upset and Joe and I joked that we kind of hoped he got sick, so he would quit pushing the pace. We got a laugh out of that, not realizing the foreshadowing. We hit the first hill and my body was still cool from the Coke and ice. I climbed the hill at a decent pace and realized at that point that I was getting better. I felt cool and my legs were strong. I waited at the top for Allen and Joe. They both seemed spent. I asked them if it had finally cooled off, because the heat wasn't hurting so bad. They grunted and said that I must be feeling better, because it was hotter than ever. Perfect! That was the sign I needed, I was finally back. I started running the flats and downhills, and swiftly walking the long, steep uphills. I would wait at the top of each hill for Joe and Allen. At the top of the first Sister, I waited a long time. When Joe finally showed up he told me that Allen was puking. I felt bad because we had kind of wished it upon him jokingly, and I felt like I had stolen his energy.

The next several miles went quickly and painlessly, and we got back to the truck at 40 miles. Allen was done, and bowed out. Joe and I were a little disappointed to see him drop, but he said he got what he wanted out of the run. So Joe and I plowed on. We knew we had one serious hill left, Cairn's Climb. It had been many hours since we were there last, and this was the hill that knocked me to the canvas in the first round. When we reached it, I plowed up it, and even ran most of it because I knew we were almost finished and I had so much energy. I waited at the top for Joe, and when he reached the top we sat down, then laid down, as the sun set...




The finsh was uneventful, almost anti-climactic as we headed back to camp for the last 5 miles. We talked a lot about running and life. All of my runs with Joe are like this, he is salt of the earth. In the end, I found an entire pizza saved for me by Jim and Nicole, and a few people that waited up late for us to get back. Most people had gone to sleep, in preparation for a 10 miler in the morning. We talked shortly, before everyone went to bed. It had been a such a long day, and I decided I would not try to describe it that night, because I did not have the words to describe it. Looking back, I realized a few things about this run, and their parallels to all challenges in life:

- No matter how strong you are, you can not get through the toughest challenges alone.
- Despite challenging my mantra at times, we are all capable of amazing things if we believe in ourselves.
- There are many good people in this world, surrounding yourself with them will lead to happiness.
- We are all in need of challenges. Do not try to avoid them, they build strength and character.

Oh, and one more lesson. I'm ready for the Bandera 100K!