…. Where do I start?
First I want to thank my wife Melody (who was 30 weeks pregnant on race weekend) for all of her support throughout the entire year (Love you!). And of course everybody else that has helped us push the envelope in TRYING TO END MS! My crew: Melody, Nelson & Kate Morse, Jennifer Gibbins, Theresa "Turbo" Urban, Mary Pickering and Janet Chow; my pacers: Nelson Morse, Fabrice Beaulieu, Tony Pane and Rich Grove. Thanks also to Ray Nancoz for the tent and to John Mead for the extra headlamp. And thank you for all the love showed throughout our Team Z family! WE ARE ALL BLESSED TO BE ABLE TO PARTICIPATE IN THESE EVENTS; do not take your health for granted. Enjoy it and share your experiences with others.
BACKGROUND
Grindstone 100 was my second attempt at 100 miles this year, my first attempt being the Black Hills 100 back in June; this time I made it, but it was HARD. Let me explain…
My training had gone well since returning home from South Dakota. I was strictly running by feel (I had a plan, but sometimes just did whatever I felt like that day) and just making sure to get long runs in on the weekends. I completed 99% of my training solo and as I explored the trails in the area was falling in love with running again. My tune-up races to help me prepare for Grindstone were the ICY-8, Bull Run Run 50 Miler, 24hr-ATR, Black Hills 100 and the 12hr-ATR and I learned something from each race.
Grindstone started on a Friday at 6:00 p.m. Why at 6pm? To make it harder of course! The elevation chart speaks volumes with over 23,200 feet of total gain and 23,200 feet of total loss on the out-and-back course. With a 38 hour cut-off, I knew I would be fine (as compared to the Black Hills’ 32 hour cut-off). As for my game plan - Be ready because it’s going to hurt and when it sucks, it is really going to suck bad!
We arrived at Camp Shenandoah (a BSA camp) around 12:00 p.m. on Friday. We made quick order of setting up our tent and then made our way to the pre-race meeting. The meeting was led by race director, Clark Zealand, a genuine dude, and ultrarunning legend, Dr. David Horton, a funny cat. Without going into too many details, they basically said, “Don't be stupid out there, enjoy it!” and when Clark said, "We are all blessed to be here,” something in my head just clicked. Yes indeed! After the meeting with four hours remaining before the start, everybody made their way to get in an extra nap in their tents (this didn’t work too well). But it was a gorgeous day and I could not have asked for better weather.
THE FIRST HALF
At 5:30 p.m. Friday all 118 runners check-in. At 5:45 p.m. Dr. Horton leads us in prayer and at 5:55 p.m. I kiss my wife (starting to get goose bumps now) and make my way to the starting line. 6:00 p.m. comes and we’re off! We ran around the camp for 1.5miles then we got to see the spectators again so I stop briefly to kiss my wife (I would not see her again until mile 22). Of course at the start of any race everybody has a pop in their step. We were all running, talking and smiling and I got to chat with Team Strike Out MS teammate, Phil Rice (awesome dude).
First aid station – 5.18 miles – 1:07.
Nobody really stopped, it was too soon. Darkness fell and I turned on my super headlamp (thanks, Nelson). Without it, it is pitch black as we are in the woods where there are no street lights, lit signs, cars, nada. We approach the first big climb up Elliott’s Knob and my running poles come out (more about those later). The weather was spectacular, about 65 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. When we got to the top I had to make sure to “hole-punch” my bib – one of the provisions the race organizers designed to ensure no one cut the course; there were to be two “punch spots” in the race. Soon after I am descending the first long downhill section and start to get into “the zone,” focusing on the spotlight and running with a group of three people. I made sure to always have somebody in sight at night because it is easy to miss a turn and then you are lost...
Second aid station – 14.63 miles – 3:37.
I got there and saw David Snipes, AKA “Sniper" (who was doing his 10th 100-miler this year! So glad I finally managed to get him a Team Strike Out MS shirt) who gave me some advice. He told me to load up because of the climb ahead. I did as he said and then jumped ahead because I knew he and his group were faster than me and I wanted to be able to run with them. Up, up, and up ... it was dark. I finally heard some of the boys behind me and someone called out, "Is that you, Iwan?" Sweet, Sniper and crew had caught up to me. I let them pass me and stayed on their tail. It is much easier to see when there are about six headlamps ahead of you. Sniper’s knowledge of the course was priceless.
Third aid station – 22.11 miles – 5:32.
I finally got to see my crew (I would only see them seven times throughout the whole race), the wife, Jen, Turbo and Mary. I filled my bottles quickly and was gone as quickly as I came ... Up and down, this section is kind of a blur.
Fourth aid station –30.46 miles – 7:34.
I still managed to keep Sniper and the boys in sight.
Fifth aid station – 35.91 miles – 9:20.
My crew takes my pack and I proceeded to get weighed and switched headlamps (won this one at the pre-race meeting, thanks, Clark!). I try my best to eat as much as I can as there was a seven-mile climb ahead (this was not a hill, this was a mountain). Sniper calls to me, "I’ll catch up to you," of course he will! :) Runners are starting to become more and more dispersed and we are still in total darkness. About two miles into the climb, Sniper and the boys catch up to me. I let them pass and try to hang on to the back of the pack. About an hour later one of the boys was already falling apart (I think he dropped at the next aid station). At this point you really start to realize how brutal it is getting and that it is just going to get worse. This climb up Little Bald Knob was treacherous. You could never see the top of the climb because it was too dark, you just kept going up. Finally, I summited with about three of the boys. We all stopped for a potty break and somebody said to turn off our headlamps and look at the stars. Wow, it was BEAUTIFUL … then suddenly one of the boys started puking violently – so much for that moment! Several minutes later he was fine and we kept on running. I decided to slow down a bit because if I kept up with those two I would burn out. The wind was blowing so I put my jacket on and then my headlamp started to fade. DAMN! But then I remembered I had another back-up in my bag – sweet – kept moving.
Sixth aid station – 43.74 miles – 12:30.
They had a nice warm fire going here and it was tempting to sit for a bit and warm-up but thought better of that idea to try and minimize my rest time (you will know why later). I fueled and the sun started to come up. Finally, some daylight! I continued, up and down...
Seventh aid station – 48.19 miles – 13:55.
At this point we had to go up Reddish Knob about 400m to punch our bibs one last time. The view at the top was AMAZING and all of the Fall colors were just starting to show, making you want to stop and just stare. When I got up there, I looked around for a hole-punch and could not find it. Another runner came up and we both started looking and still could not find it. We were told at the pre-race meeting that it would likely be attached to the trailer parked at the top. We figured the trailer probably belonged to some of the race crews so we knocked on the door. An older gentleman came out looking like he just woke up and a little perturbed, so we asked him, "Do you know where the punch is?" and he responded, “What punch, what are you talking about?" (looking like he wanted to give us a punch). Right about then, another runner showed up and said, "They lost the punch, just tap the trailer, we’re on the honor system.” At that, the older gentleman commented, “Whoever told you that, I'm gonna cut their hands off, trying to sleep here!" He was at least good natured about it all. The sun was out (yes!) and I was about 1.5 miles from the turn around where I would see my crew and first pacer, Fabrice. I dropped my bag for some relief and made my way up to Gnashing Knob.
Eighth aid station – 51.86miles – 15:05.
This stop was at the top of Gnashing Knob - what a view for breakfast! I quickly ate one breakfast burrito and made my way back down.
SECOND HALF (drama begins)
I stopped for a bit to reconnect with my crew – Melody, Jen and Turbo – and changed shoes and socks. "Alright, Fabrice, let's go!" At this point I was a little tired and hit the wall for a bit (way too early). I stopped to go #2 (it was hard to hide with the bright orange Team Strike Out MS shirt I had on though.) :) I eventually started to feel better and did not worry too much, just kept on moving.
Ninth aid station – 54.93 – 16:15.
I ate a bit and Fabrice reminded me to grab some nutrition (you start to forget these things). I continued to struggle a little until the next aid station.
10th aid station – 58.72 – 17:32.
Fabrice helped me refill my bottles and my legs finally came back. Let's go! Downhill we went, for seven miles. Descending is not easy when your quadriceps and hip flexors are tired. Going down Little Bald Knob in daylight made it seem like a completely different trail. My feet were starting to swell up so I had to loosen my shoelaces (not the smartest thing when going downhill). I told Fabrice to keep moving and I would do my best to stay with him. We talked about how our dads (both French) had the worst of accents and we had a good laugh going (Merci!). It seemed like it was never ending, heading down, down … finally we reached the next aid station.
11th aid station – 66.55 – 20:24.
My crew was there waiting for me again with Tony and Nelson this time. This is the farthest I have ever run in a day, I was stoked! They grab my bag, I get weighed again and ate some while Tony got ready for his pacing leg. We made sure to grab our headlamps, I kissed my wife, and we were off! I felt good at this point. We weren’t going fast but my mental state was good. I asked Tony to remind me to drink every 15 minutes. We got into a groove, and started talking about the education system (Tony teaches elementary school and I formally worked as a strength coach and teacher's aid at a DC public high school) and about his Ironman training. It was then that I realized that I really didn’t know Tony that well before now yet he sacrificed a day to come out and pace me – what a rockstar! It starts to get dark, but we’re doing okay so far.
12th aid station – 72miles – 18:54.
This part is a bit of a blur…
13th aid station – 80.35 – (time unavailable).
My crew fills up my bottles for me. I eat some, but promptly throw it all up. It was getting harder and harder to keep calories down so I made sure that I was at least taking some in liquid form. I shook it off and Nelson and I were off for this next leg and I am starting to hurt. I tried my best not to show it and was now using my running poles all of the time; they were about 15-years old, made in Austria, and worked great. Nelson’s one of my best buddies so we started joking around. I mentioned to him how crazy it would be for someone to take the whole 38 hours to complete this race (little did I know)! I am slowing down with every step and I loosened my shoes again because the base of my ankles were getting bruised from the constant pounding. I never realized how many loose rocks there were and it was getting harder and harder to run over them – I just kept cursing them. Then we saw in the distance another runner hobbling. As we drew nearer, we learned that his kidneys were shutting down and he was beginning to lose his balance. Nelson (a former paramedic) scrambled to get him a stick, and made sure he was going to be able to make it to the next aid station, he assured us, "Yup." You really cannot be selfish during these events or you will never make it. Nelson did great at keeping track of time and nutrition. I was getting colder (body was shutting down slowly) so I put on my beanie and gloves. I started complaining, "How much further?" Then the ailing gentleman’s wife came our way and asked, "Have you seen my husband, he is the one hobbling?" We told her, "He is about ten minutes behind us, hobbling, but his head is still in it."
14th aid station – 87.83 – (time unavailable).
The whole crew was there – Melody, Jen, Turbo and Janet. Tony was gearing up to pace again, but Rich was ready to go. Although originally Rich was always going to pace this leg, sometime during the week he tweaked his ankle and pulled out. But he showed up anyway with just his running shoes and it seemed his adrenaline was going so when I saw him, I asked, “You running?!” and he replied, “YUP!” He borrowed a jacket, pack and headlamp, I reloaded, and Rich and I took off. Now, it is becoming all about GRIT. I was struggling badly. I think Rich felt sorry for me and slowed down a bit. To keep me in check he was asking me some of the weirdest questions like, "What city were you married in?" He was driving me crazy, but keeping my mind off of the pain. It was still dark and I was heading into my SECOND night of no sleep or rest! Rich kept trying to warn me of obstacles on the trail, "big rock, log..." My head was down as I focused on trying to move forward as I could not pick my legs up much. I asked Rich what time it was. He said it was 2:00 a.m. 2:00 a.m.?! I couldn’t believe it, we had to start moving, GO, GO, GO! But slower and slower I went. At one point I was trying to go faster than my muscles would let me and I fell. Rich ran back to me and picked me up. I was fine, but we needed to keep moving. Rich said it was time to eat, but my appetite was gone, Rich made me eat anyway. We then had to begin our descent down Elliott's Knob, it was steep. My left hip flexor did not want to cooperate and I was struggling, digging my running poles in so much that they almost crushed into my chest as we descended; we were only moving a couple of feet at a time.
15th aid station – 96.67 (time unavailable).
I think it was about 4:30a.m. I was in BAD SHAPE, shaking and in pain (trying to hold tears back; yes, it was that bad), but I knew that I had to minimize my time at the aid station in order to make it in time. I could tell my wife was having a hard time just looking at me. After a couple of minutes and forcing down a cup of chicken soup, Nelson and I were off for the final leg to the finish. I begged him, "Keep me going, Bro, PLEASE..." My left hip flexor was shot. Every time we ran into a log or tree on the trail I was not able to get myself over it anymore. Nelson had to help me roll over or lift my leg up for me because I had lost use of my left hip flexor. It was getting BAD and I had to stop every 15 minutes. To help keep us on track, when we stopped, Nelson would count down, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1, let's go." It was still dark and we were still going up and down, I was barely moving. I kept yelling out to Nelson, "How are we doing?" I think he was starting to get worried about whether or not we were going to make the cut-off. At this point I could not even hold myself up when going #1 so Nelson had to hold me by my pack so I would not fall over. To keep things light, he would say, “Don’t pee on your shoes," me, "oops too late..." :)
I had come more than 96.67 miles and I knew damn well that I was going to finish even if I had to roll myself to the finish line. I was in terrible pain and trying to hold myself together both mentally and physically. I took on this journey to raise awareness for Multiple Sclerosis and show people that nothing is impossible. Life is too short – make a move, do not give up, get up and do something. I am just an ordinary guy, let's find a cure. It was now 6:45 a.m. and the sun was starting to come up. I asked Nelson how far we had left. He said it was about 2.5 miles. I am moving with all my heart (so slow) and my legs were fried. My running poles were saving my life. About 15 guys had passed us since the last aid station. One last runner approached and I motioned for him to go ahead, but the guy said, “No, I am the sweeper." “You mean I am the last one?” “Yup!” 118 people had started this race and 33 had dropped out, making me #85. As long as I kept moving I would be okay, but that within itself was unbearably hard. With about 1.5 miles to go, we ran into a Boy Scout Leader who told us we were only about a half-mile from the camp (he did not know that we had to go around the lake) so I was stoked. I asked Nelson if that was right. He lied and said yes because I was starting to move a little faster. I then realized that it was further and was mad! I was barely moving. The Sweeper, Geoff, told me to make sure and embrace the moment. I DID! I finally see the lake, it is now 7:30 a.m. and I can hear the Team Z horn (Team Z is known for blowing their vuvuzelas at all of their races)! I was about to breakdown, but not yet. At the last stream crossing, I had to basically lean on Nelson, but he kept pushing me. I had nothing left and was pretty much dragging my left leg the whole way. Then we reached the road and we had 400m left; I see my wife and crew and Nelson tells me to look up about 50m from the Finish. I start to lose it ... I am tired and sleep deprived and my body had been in shut down mode for the past 8-10 hours. At last, I crossed the finish line and crumbled. I think Clark and Nelson held me up as I broke down in tears. 101.85 miles – 37hrs 45min 41s. I pushed my body when it did not want to be pushed anymore and it was painful. The energy it took me to stay focused demanded so much more effort than I could have ever imagined.
AFTERWARD
They carried me to a cot inside the pavilion and Nelson harnessed his old paramedic skills and assisted the medic team. He even took his Camelbak tube to my lips with the other end in a bottle of chocolate milk (just like an IV) so I could get some calories in. I was okay, but shaking pretty hard as my hip flexor was killing me. The medic team asked me what I needed and I said, "A nap, please." Ten minutes later (or more) I wake up, see my beautiful pregnant wife, Nelson, Jen, Turbo, Janet and Rich ... Tony was already home and at his son’s hockey tournament, Mary at a wedding and Fabrice back home with his wife. I could not have done it without those guys (THANK YOU!). I saw Clark, thanked him and told him that I was slightly embarrassed for finishing the way I did. He quickly made it clear that I should not feel that way at all.
What a race, what a journey … the longer I was out there the more I learned about myself. I am just a regular guy. You cannot wing 100 miles, it takes time and sacrifice. Would I do it again? Of course! Raising awareness for MS is never ending and by pushing myself I hope to show people that nothing is impossible to include finding a cure!
First I want to thank my wife Melody (who was 30 weeks pregnant on race weekend) for all of her support throughout the entire year (Love you!). And of course everybody else that has helped us push the envelope in TRYING TO END MS! My crew: Melody, Nelson & Kate Morse, Jennifer Gibbins, Theresa "Turbo" Urban, Mary Pickering and Janet Chow; my pacers: Nelson Morse, Fabrice Beaulieu, Tony Pane and Rich Grove. Thanks also to Ray Nancoz for the tent and to John Mead for the extra headlamp. And thank you for all the love showed throughout our Team Z family! WE ARE ALL BLESSED TO BE ABLE TO PARTICIPATE IN THESE EVENTS; do not take your health for granted. Enjoy it and share your experiences with others.
BACKGROUND
Grindstone 100 was my second attempt at 100 miles this year, my first attempt being the Black Hills 100 back in June; this time I made it, but it was HARD. Let me explain…
My training had gone well since returning home from South Dakota. I was strictly running by feel (I had a plan, but sometimes just did whatever I felt like that day) and just making sure to get long runs in on the weekends. I completed 99% of my training solo and as I explored the trails in the area was falling in love with running again. My tune-up races to help me prepare for Grindstone were the ICY-8, Bull Run Run 50 Miler, 24hr-ATR, Black Hills 100 and the 12hr-ATR and I learned something from each race.
Grindstone started on a Friday at 6:00 p.m. Why at 6pm? To make it harder of course! The elevation chart speaks volumes with over 23,200 feet of total gain and 23,200 feet of total loss on the out-and-back course. With a 38 hour cut-off, I knew I would be fine (as compared to the Black Hills’ 32 hour cut-off). As for my game plan - Be ready because it’s going to hurt and when it sucks, it is really going to suck bad!
We arrived at Camp Shenandoah (a BSA camp) around 12:00 p.m. on Friday. We made quick order of setting up our tent and then made our way to the pre-race meeting. The meeting was led by race director, Clark Zealand, a genuine dude, and ultrarunning legend, Dr. David Horton, a funny cat. Without going into too many details, they basically said, “Don't be stupid out there, enjoy it!” and when Clark said, "We are all blessed to be here,” something in my head just clicked. Yes indeed! After the meeting with four hours remaining before the start, everybody made their way to get in an extra nap in their tents (this didn’t work too well). But it was a gorgeous day and I could not have asked for better weather.
THE FIRST HALF
At 5:30 p.m. Friday all 118 runners check-in. At 5:45 p.m. Dr. Horton leads us in prayer and at 5:55 p.m. I kiss my wife (starting to get goose bumps now) and make my way to the starting line. 6:00 p.m. comes and we’re off! We ran around the camp for 1.5miles then we got to see the spectators again so I stop briefly to kiss my wife (I would not see her again until mile 22). Of course at the start of any race everybody has a pop in their step. We were all running, talking and smiling and I got to chat with Team Strike Out MS teammate, Phil Rice (awesome dude).
First aid station – 5.18 miles – 1:07.
Nobody really stopped, it was too soon. Darkness fell and I turned on my super headlamp (thanks, Nelson). Without it, it is pitch black as we are in the woods where there are no street lights, lit signs, cars, nada. We approach the first big climb up Elliott’s Knob and my running poles come out (more about those later). The weather was spectacular, about 65 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. When we got to the top I had to make sure to “hole-punch” my bib – one of the provisions the race organizers designed to ensure no one cut the course; there were to be two “punch spots” in the race. Soon after I am descending the first long downhill section and start to get into “the zone,” focusing on the spotlight and running with a group of three people. I made sure to always have somebody in sight at night because it is easy to miss a turn and then you are lost...
Second aid station – 14.63 miles – 3:37.
I got there and saw David Snipes, AKA “Sniper" (who was doing his 10th 100-miler this year! So glad I finally managed to get him a Team Strike Out MS shirt) who gave me some advice. He told me to load up because of the climb ahead. I did as he said and then jumped ahead because I knew he and his group were faster than me and I wanted to be able to run with them. Up, up, and up ... it was dark. I finally heard some of the boys behind me and someone called out, "Is that you, Iwan?" Sweet, Sniper and crew had caught up to me. I let them pass me and stayed on their tail. It is much easier to see when there are about six headlamps ahead of you. Sniper’s knowledge of the course was priceless.
Third aid station – 22.11 miles – 5:32.
I finally got to see my crew (I would only see them seven times throughout the whole race), the wife, Jen, Turbo and Mary. I filled my bottles quickly and was gone as quickly as I came ... Up and down, this section is kind of a blur.
Fourth aid station –30.46 miles – 7:34.
I still managed to keep Sniper and the boys in sight.
Fifth aid station – 35.91 miles – 9:20.
My crew takes my pack and I proceeded to get weighed and switched headlamps (won this one at the pre-race meeting, thanks, Clark!). I try my best to eat as much as I can as there was a seven-mile climb ahead (this was not a hill, this was a mountain). Sniper calls to me, "I’ll catch up to you," of course he will! :) Runners are starting to become more and more dispersed and we are still in total darkness. About two miles into the climb, Sniper and the boys catch up to me. I let them pass and try to hang on to the back of the pack. About an hour later one of the boys was already falling apart (I think he dropped at the next aid station). At this point you really start to realize how brutal it is getting and that it is just going to get worse. This climb up Little Bald Knob was treacherous. You could never see the top of the climb because it was too dark, you just kept going up. Finally, I summited with about three of the boys. We all stopped for a potty break and somebody said to turn off our headlamps and look at the stars. Wow, it was BEAUTIFUL … then suddenly one of the boys started puking violently – so much for that moment! Several minutes later he was fine and we kept on running. I decided to slow down a bit because if I kept up with those two I would burn out. The wind was blowing so I put my jacket on and then my headlamp started to fade. DAMN! But then I remembered I had another back-up in my bag – sweet – kept moving.
Sixth aid station – 43.74 miles – 12:30.
They had a nice warm fire going here and it was tempting to sit for a bit and warm-up but thought better of that idea to try and minimize my rest time (you will know why later). I fueled and the sun started to come up. Finally, some daylight! I continued, up and down...
Seventh aid station – 48.19 miles – 13:55.
At this point we had to go up Reddish Knob about 400m to punch our bibs one last time. The view at the top was AMAZING and all of the Fall colors were just starting to show, making you want to stop and just stare. When I got up there, I looked around for a hole-punch and could not find it. Another runner came up and we both started looking and still could not find it. We were told at the pre-race meeting that it would likely be attached to the trailer parked at the top. We figured the trailer probably belonged to some of the race crews so we knocked on the door. An older gentleman came out looking like he just woke up and a little perturbed, so we asked him, "Do you know where the punch is?" and he responded, “What punch, what are you talking about?" (looking like he wanted to give us a punch). Right about then, another runner showed up and said, "They lost the punch, just tap the trailer, we’re on the honor system.” At that, the older gentleman commented, “Whoever told you that, I'm gonna cut their hands off, trying to sleep here!" He was at least good natured about it all. The sun was out (yes!) and I was about 1.5 miles from the turn around where I would see my crew and first pacer, Fabrice. I dropped my bag for some relief and made my way up to Gnashing Knob.
Eighth aid station – 51.86miles – 15:05.
This stop was at the top of Gnashing Knob - what a view for breakfast! I quickly ate one breakfast burrito and made my way back down.
SECOND HALF (drama begins)
I stopped for a bit to reconnect with my crew – Melody, Jen and Turbo – and changed shoes and socks. "Alright, Fabrice, let's go!" At this point I was a little tired and hit the wall for a bit (way too early). I stopped to go #2 (it was hard to hide with the bright orange Team Strike Out MS shirt I had on though.) :) I eventually started to feel better and did not worry too much, just kept on moving.
Ninth aid station – 54.93 – 16:15.
I ate a bit and Fabrice reminded me to grab some nutrition (you start to forget these things). I continued to struggle a little until the next aid station.
10th aid station – 58.72 – 17:32.
Fabrice helped me refill my bottles and my legs finally came back. Let's go! Downhill we went, for seven miles. Descending is not easy when your quadriceps and hip flexors are tired. Going down Little Bald Knob in daylight made it seem like a completely different trail. My feet were starting to swell up so I had to loosen my shoelaces (not the smartest thing when going downhill). I told Fabrice to keep moving and I would do my best to stay with him. We talked about how our dads (both French) had the worst of accents and we had a good laugh going (Merci!). It seemed like it was never ending, heading down, down … finally we reached the next aid station.
11th aid station – 66.55 – 20:24.
My crew was there waiting for me again with Tony and Nelson this time. This is the farthest I have ever run in a day, I was stoked! They grab my bag, I get weighed again and ate some while Tony got ready for his pacing leg. We made sure to grab our headlamps, I kissed my wife, and we were off! I felt good at this point. We weren’t going fast but my mental state was good. I asked Tony to remind me to drink every 15 minutes. We got into a groove, and started talking about the education system (Tony teaches elementary school and I formally worked as a strength coach and teacher's aid at a DC public high school) and about his Ironman training. It was then that I realized that I really didn’t know Tony that well before now yet he sacrificed a day to come out and pace me – what a rockstar! It starts to get dark, but we’re doing okay so far.
12th aid station – 72miles – 18:54.
This part is a bit of a blur…
13th aid station – 80.35 – (time unavailable).
My crew fills up my bottles for me. I eat some, but promptly throw it all up. It was getting harder and harder to keep calories down so I made sure that I was at least taking some in liquid form. I shook it off and Nelson and I were off for this next leg and I am starting to hurt. I tried my best not to show it and was now using my running poles all of the time; they were about 15-years old, made in Austria, and worked great. Nelson’s one of my best buddies so we started joking around. I mentioned to him how crazy it would be for someone to take the whole 38 hours to complete this race (little did I know)! I am slowing down with every step and I loosened my shoes again because the base of my ankles were getting bruised from the constant pounding. I never realized how many loose rocks there were and it was getting harder and harder to run over them – I just kept cursing them. Then we saw in the distance another runner hobbling. As we drew nearer, we learned that his kidneys were shutting down and he was beginning to lose his balance. Nelson (a former paramedic) scrambled to get him a stick, and made sure he was going to be able to make it to the next aid station, he assured us, "Yup." You really cannot be selfish during these events or you will never make it. Nelson did great at keeping track of time and nutrition. I was getting colder (body was shutting down slowly) so I put on my beanie and gloves. I started complaining, "How much further?" Then the ailing gentleman’s wife came our way and asked, "Have you seen my husband, he is the one hobbling?" We told her, "He is about ten minutes behind us, hobbling, but his head is still in it."
14th aid station – 87.83 – (time unavailable).
The whole crew was there – Melody, Jen, Turbo and Janet. Tony was gearing up to pace again, but Rich was ready to go. Although originally Rich was always going to pace this leg, sometime during the week he tweaked his ankle and pulled out. But he showed up anyway with just his running shoes and it seemed his adrenaline was going so when I saw him, I asked, “You running?!” and he replied, “YUP!” He borrowed a jacket, pack and headlamp, I reloaded, and Rich and I took off. Now, it is becoming all about GRIT. I was struggling badly. I think Rich felt sorry for me and slowed down a bit. To keep me in check he was asking me some of the weirdest questions like, "What city were you married in?" He was driving me crazy, but keeping my mind off of the pain. It was still dark and I was heading into my SECOND night of no sleep or rest! Rich kept trying to warn me of obstacles on the trail, "big rock, log..." My head was down as I focused on trying to move forward as I could not pick my legs up much. I asked Rich what time it was. He said it was 2:00 a.m. 2:00 a.m.?! I couldn’t believe it, we had to start moving, GO, GO, GO! But slower and slower I went. At one point I was trying to go faster than my muscles would let me and I fell. Rich ran back to me and picked me up. I was fine, but we needed to keep moving. Rich said it was time to eat, but my appetite was gone, Rich made me eat anyway. We then had to begin our descent down Elliott's Knob, it was steep. My left hip flexor did not want to cooperate and I was struggling, digging my running poles in so much that they almost crushed into my chest as we descended; we were only moving a couple of feet at a time.
15th aid station – 96.67 (time unavailable).
I think it was about 4:30a.m. I was in BAD SHAPE, shaking and in pain (trying to hold tears back; yes, it was that bad), but I knew that I had to minimize my time at the aid station in order to make it in time. I could tell my wife was having a hard time just looking at me. After a couple of minutes and forcing down a cup of chicken soup, Nelson and I were off for the final leg to the finish. I begged him, "Keep me going, Bro, PLEASE..." My left hip flexor was shot. Every time we ran into a log or tree on the trail I was not able to get myself over it anymore. Nelson had to help me roll over or lift my leg up for me because I had lost use of my left hip flexor. It was getting BAD and I had to stop every 15 minutes. To help keep us on track, when we stopped, Nelson would count down, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1, let's go." It was still dark and we were still going up and down, I was barely moving. I kept yelling out to Nelson, "How are we doing?" I think he was starting to get worried about whether or not we were going to make the cut-off. At this point I could not even hold myself up when going #1 so Nelson had to hold me by my pack so I would not fall over. To keep things light, he would say, “Don’t pee on your shoes," me, "oops too late..." :)
I had come more than 96.67 miles and I knew damn well that I was going to finish even if I had to roll myself to the finish line. I was in terrible pain and trying to hold myself together both mentally and physically. I took on this journey to raise awareness for Multiple Sclerosis and show people that nothing is impossible. Life is too short – make a move, do not give up, get up and do something. I am just an ordinary guy, let's find a cure. It was now 6:45 a.m. and the sun was starting to come up. I asked Nelson how far we had left. He said it was about 2.5 miles. I am moving with all my heart (so slow) and my legs were fried. My running poles were saving my life. About 15 guys had passed us since the last aid station. One last runner approached and I motioned for him to go ahead, but the guy said, “No, I am the sweeper." “You mean I am the last one?” “Yup!” 118 people had started this race and 33 had dropped out, making me #85. As long as I kept moving I would be okay, but that within itself was unbearably hard. With about 1.5 miles to go, we ran into a Boy Scout Leader who told us we were only about a half-mile from the camp (he did not know that we had to go around the lake) so I was stoked. I asked Nelson if that was right. He lied and said yes because I was starting to move a little faster. I then realized that it was further and was mad! I was barely moving. The Sweeper, Geoff, told me to make sure and embrace the moment. I DID! I finally see the lake, it is now 7:30 a.m. and I can hear the Team Z horn (Team Z is known for blowing their vuvuzelas at all of their races)! I was about to breakdown, but not yet. At the last stream crossing, I had to basically lean on Nelson, but he kept pushing me. I had nothing left and was pretty much dragging my left leg the whole way. Then we reached the road and we had 400m left; I see my wife and crew and Nelson tells me to look up about 50m from the Finish. I start to lose it ... I am tired and sleep deprived and my body had been in shut down mode for the past 8-10 hours. At last, I crossed the finish line and crumbled. I think Clark and Nelson held me up as I broke down in tears. 101.85 miles – 37hrs 45min 41s. I pushed my body when it did not want to be pushed anymore and it was painful. The energy it took me to stay focused demanded so much more effort than I could have ever imagined.
AFTERWARD
They carried me to a cot inside the pavilion and Nelson harnessed his old paramedic skills and assisted the medic team. He even took his Camelbak tube to my lips with the other end in a bottle of chocolate milk (just like an IV) so I could get some calories in. I was okay, but shaking pretty hard as my hip flexor was killing me. The medic team asked me what I needed and I said, "A nap, please." Ten minutes later (or more) I wake up, see my beautiful pregnant wife, Nelson, Jen, Turbo, Janet and Rich ... Tony was already home and at his son’s hockey tournament, Mary at a wedding and Fabrice back home with his wife. I could not have done it without those guys (THANK YOU!). I saw Clark, thanked him and told him that I was slightly embarrassed for finishing the way I did. He quickly made it clear that I should not feel that way at all.
What a race, what a journey … the longer I was out there the more I learned about myself. I am just a regular guy. You cannot wing 100 miles, it takes time and sacrifice. Would I do it again? Of course! Raising awareness for MS is never ending and by pushing myself I hope to show people that nothing is impossible to include finding a cure!
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