Long miles

Around mile 12, I round a corner and began running the final stretch of the start/finish spur at the “All Nighter” 60k. Within seconds, I’m on the ground laying on my side screaming in agony as my right calf seizes up in a cramp. Thankfully, no one was around to witness what happened and, miraculously, besides being covered in dirt, which immediately mixed with my sweat drenched body and turned to mud, I came away unscathed. Hard to believe, considering everywhere I looked there were rocks. I got up and found my headlamp, which had catapulted several feet away from me during the fall, and finished up the lap.

I knew I was in trouble after the first 10k loop, since I felt something odd with my calves early during my second loop. While it was warm and humid, I didn’t give it much thought because 1) it’s August in Texas (duh!) and, 2) we’re next to a lake. And, while I ran what I considered a very casual pace during the first loop, it was slower by almost a minute per mile than what I expected. Therefore, the cramps were totally unexpected. I ran with Dalton for a short while during the first loop and when I stopped for a nature break, it felt unbearably hot and humid. In fact, I felt drastically cooler when I ran.

Loop three was more of the same, as I aggressively consumed more sodium and even more fluids. Up to this point, I had been drinking 40 oz an hour. From a nutrition standpoint, I was in great shape. It was the electrolyte issue giving me the fits. My chest muscles were cramping, along with my rib cage (side stitches), and the calves continued to revolt. And, my heart rate would immediately spike to near max at a jogging pace. I continued to take in more sodium. And, in the back of my mind, I knew that my pace would get me nowhere in the ball park of when I needed to finish to salvage at least a few hours of night time sleep. I left the mid-point aid station on loop three with no intention of seeing it again. I said my “good-byes” and “thank yous” and continued.

I came into the start/finish area where Olga could see the distraught look on my face. I was ready to quit. I was internally frustrated that I would get only half of the miles I intended in preparation for a Fall race. It was made worse considering I felt this poorly after 30 casual kilometers. My son came over to give me a hug, as he had on the previous loop. He didn’t care that I was soaked with sweat. All that seemed to matter was wrapping his arms around me. Olga found a chair away from the aid station and I sat and we talked for several minutes about what was going through my head. Her son came over at one point to let me know he was fine and not to stop on his account due to the lateness of the night. He had read me perfectly and such mature words from a barely teenage boy. Olga and I talked some more and left the decision up to me. I’m not certain what got me out of that chair, but I rose and walked over to the aid station to prepare for another loop. If I had to walk the entire next loop, that was what I was going to do. And, it's what Olga suggested. But, the stubborness deep inside was telling me I was going to attempt to run at least some of the loop.

As I made the initial climb, I felt light sprinkles. Immediately, I said out loud, “please rain!”. Within a few minutes, the skies opened up to a deluge and it made me smile. It was difficult to see the trail with the beam cast by my headlamp. Within minutes, the trail became a continuous stream of water. And, a few minutes later, as the rain soaked into the ground, the trail became very muddy. But I didn’t care, other than the fact the shoes I was wearing do not have an aggressive sole on them and have poor traction in the mud. But, the rain was welcomed and I began running gingerly trying to avoid the inevitable dive into the mud as I slid continuously on the trail. The farther I ran, the more I wanted to run. I, even, began running up the hills, which I didn’t even do on the first loop. Although the rain had stopped, the trail conditions were challenging. After the middle aid station, the first descent required committing oneself to gravity and doing the best to stay upright. My cramping had basically vanished and I was left with just the left over tenderness in my calves.

I finished loop 4 much faster than the previous one and felt strong as an ox. It was almost 1am, however, and I had no other desire but to call it a night, drive home for a hot shower, and sleep. I was happy, not to be done, since I did DNF. But, felt a great accomplishment of getting through one of the rougher patches I’ve experienced in a race. And, let’s be frank. I do not like suffering. Heck, most people don’t! And, I may be in the wrong sport because of my disdain for the suffering part. And, I haven’t suffered that much in races regardless, because I tend to back off before I get to that point. But, the one thing I revel in is if you know you’ve taken correct and aggressive measures in addressing issues early and are patient, the body will eventually come around. And the euphoric feeling from that makes me quickly forget that I suffered in the first place. Regardless, easier said than done…

The race had an 40% finishing rate and those that pushed through and made it to the finish are some damn tough runners. Just awesome!