Road to Recovery - Day 2

I woke this morning feeling better and more energetic than I have felt since I became sick. I attribute this completely to being able to run yesterday. As much as I wanted to run again today I knew better than to start my recover this way so I skipped a run and headed off to school knowing that Wednesdays are my long days and than there were errands to be run after class.

My energy levels remained high throughout the day and I arrived home still feeling pretty good. This is such a change from even a couple of weeks ago when I would arrive home only to fall asleep before I could even make dinner and wake sometime in the early morning hours. I quickly put some homemade vegetable soup on to heat up and threw some laundry into the wash. After cleaning the kitchen and wolfing down my soup I still felt pretty good and set about getting my things together for my clinical tomorrow. I checked the time (hard to gauge this time of year since it gets dark so early) and realized that I still had a couple of hours before I needed to go to bed. Perfect timing to get in a TRX workout.

Before I became sick I had began to workout with the TRX several times a week and was making progress on my upper body. While sick I not only lost all that progress, but lost pretty much all my upper body strength and now have definite "girl arms". I not only plan to come back running, but strong enough upper body to be back using my chainsaw in the near future.

The workout went well and I definitely have a long way to go but I am hopefully on the right track....

Road to Recovery

I completed my first run today since becoming sick with C Diff, and all the further complications that came with it, in early October. I had planned to start back Thursday afternoon since I would be done with my classes for the week and if things went terribly wrong I would have all weekend to recover. However, it has been cold and rainy/snowy all day today and I just couldn't resist.
I left the house without much of a plan other than to go by feel. I set out on one of my easier routes that allows me to wind down the mountain into St Elmo via park service dirt roads and the Lookout Mtn Conservancy road. The road is not paved and is very well maintained and not open to vehicles so it was perfect for my first run back.
The route I chose would take me just over 5 miles to my turn around point and a little under 3 miles to return home since I would take Ochs back up the mountain to my house instead of the trails. I chose this to allow for a good warm up before running up the mountain and also so that if I fell apart it wouldn't be a big deal to get rescued. I drive the return route every day coming home from school or errands and I swear it isn't nearly as steep in my car ;-).
Overall the run went much better than I would have expected (if I had allowed myself to expect anything, honestly was going by feel not knowing how the body would react to so many weeks off and all the meds and weight loss that accompanied being so sick). I did decide to walk the last mile since I kept finding my breathing indicating that I was heading towards the anaerobic zone and that was not the plan for the first run back. Not to mention that it was getting pretty steep and hill training isn't the most advised way to start back after a nearly 2 month forced break.
It will be interesting to see how the body feels tomorrow. The legs never felt tired and nothing hurt or was uncomfortable, nor was I breathing hard or feeling out of breath until the last mile when it began to get significantly steeper during this run (this term is used very loosely, while I did not walk a single step prior to the last mile, I also wasn't moving very fast and averaged 10 minutes/mile overall so it would be more appropriate to label what I did today jogging, but this is my log and I will call it whatever I want). I was just so happy to be running that anything short of a leg actually falling off may have gone unnoticed. Several times I caught myself laughing out loud from the sheer joy of running in the drizzle on a cold autumn afternoon. Especially knowing that only a couple of weeks ago taking the trash to the curb resulted in a 5 hour nap and that a couple of weeks prior to that I was afraid to take a nap or fall asleep since, living alone, I wasn't sure if I would wake up or how long it would take for someone to get worried enough to send out a search party. The human body is a really amazing machine.
I think I just might be on my way back!!! (and maybe, just maybe, I will finally begin keeping that training log I have always wanted to keep...but just in case, don't hold your breath)

Mount Cheaha 50k 2011

I had never heard of Mount Cheaha 50k until Mike O’Melia began pestering me to sign up last October. I hesitated at first, not knowing what my schedule would look like, but after several e-mails and texts I gave in and registered. Thank you Mike! I am so glad that I was able to experience this race and would recommend it to anyone looking for a challenging 50k.

I have to say that my journey to the starting line of this race was much more challenging than the journey to the finish. From the time I signed up it seemed that things were stacking against me being able to get away for the race weekend. About a week after I registered I realized that the race was going to be held at the end of my three youngest kiddos’ winter break. I wondered how I was going to work out the logistics, but figured I would work out a way, or not, as the race got closer. As is happens, their break was canceled due to missing a week of snow in January so the logistics were looking like they would work out. Then in the month leading up to the race it seems that my world turned upside down. Nothing that happened seemed like it would keep me from attending the event, but it looked like it was going to leave me undertrained and exhausted. I was considering just skipping the race and spending a weekend at home and relaxing. I had been away from home the previous 4 weekends in a row and had managed to put over 3,000 miles on my car in the process (and while I love running long distances, I really really hate driving). All I wanted was a break and a good night’s sleep. So while in Virginia for a funeral I came to the decision that not only was I going to attend the race as a getaway, but that I was going to book two nights in the hotel at the park and get some much needed rest and sleep in the process.

After a brief stop at the park’s hotel to check in and get my key, I drove the couple of miles to race headquarters at the Bald Rock Lodge. I arrived for packet pick-up and the pre-race dinner just as things were getting under way. I saw a few familiar faces, but seeing as how 50k’s tend to draw a more local crowd and I am relatively new to the area, I didn’t see as many as I am used to seeing at ultra events. I did get to meet and talk for awhile with Annette Bednosky. This woman is truly amazing and I was in awe. For those of you who haven’t met her, she is funny and wonderful and even more beautiful in person than her pictures let on. It was really a great thrill to talk with her. She was also a speaker at the pre-race briefing and gave some great advice about having fun while out there.

During the briefing candles had been lit throughout the lodge and I began having an allergic reaction so as soon as the briefing was over I was out of there and on my way to the hotel to remove my contacts and take some allergy medicine and hopefully to get a good night’s sleep. When I arrived back at the hotel and unpacked my gear from the car I realized that I had not remembered to bring several things that I would like to have had with me. I had forgotten to pack my socks, the padded tape for my feet (I have a couple of thick scars on the soles of my feet that tend to blister deep under the scars if not adequately padded) and my hand held water bottle. While not having these could prove detrimental in a 100 miler, I hoped that I could get away from a 50k without too much of an adverse affect. I decided to lay out all the things that I would need in the morning and try to get a good night’s sleep. This was when I realized that I had also forgotten a bowl for my cereal (luckily I had my dog’s food dish in the car and it worked just fine) and my charger for my cell phone. I set the alarm on my phone and hoped that it wouldn’t die before waking me and went to bed for what turned out to be a fairly fitful night’s sleep. Sure enough luck was with me and the alarm did go off, immediately followed by the phone shutting down and refusing to come back on due to a completely drained battery.

I had looked at finishing times for other runners in the past and compared them to some of the other races I had completed and knowing my current state of exhaustion and training I set my sights on an 8 hour finish. I know that this is fairly slow, but I have a couple of very key races coming up in April and an 8 hour finish should be what I needed in my training schedule and should also not tweak the hamstring I injured back in October. My goal was to not aggravate my hamstring and to also stay in the very lowest portion of my aerobic zone, barely breaking a sweat so to speak. I know that this isn’t the attitude I should take at the start line, but it was what I needed at this point in order to reach the goals I had set in front of me. I had decided to wear a watch, which I rarely do on slow training runs, but planned only to use it to know when to take my SportLegs which I take due to the calcium they provide which helps with my osteopenia. With this in mind I headed out to catch the bus to the start line.

This race starts in a parking area by the trail and proceeds to single track trail immediately, so wherever you are in relation to the field of starters when you begin is where you are likely to stay for at least the first several miles. I chose a place near the middle of the field, and as the chords of “Sweet Home Alabama” began was swept along to the trail head. The first portion of this race runs along single track covered in pine needles and is very runnable. It might even be scenic, but with the sun at an angle to hit one straight in the eyes (note to self, next time wear a cap with a bill) and just enough roots and rocks to be sure to trip you if you take your eyes off the trail for even a moment, I wouldn’t know. I kept my eyes on the trail and the feet of the runner immediately in front of me. In fact, the majority of the race would be run in this manner. Before I knew it we were a little over 3 miles in and at the first aid station. Having made the decision to not carry a water bottle I knew it meant that I could not skip any aid station and would have to take the time to drink at least a couple of cups of liquid at each of the 6 aid stations. This would slow me down somewhat, but seeing as how I didn’t actually have a time goal and was not even coming close to racing this event I was resigned to this course of action.

Leaving the first aid station the train of people that I had been in the middle of seemed to have shrunk in size. As I started on the next portion of the course there were only a handful of us running together. It was shortly after the first aid station (I believe) that I tripped on a root or rock and went down. I have been rehearsing in my head what to do if I trip on the trail. Always before I attempt to run my legs back under me and avoid actually hitting the ground. However, this is a great way to tweak the hamstring. Usually it is something that will correct itself within a few steps and at worst you will have a little soreness the next day, but since the tear I have been very leery of doing anything that puts the hamstring at risk so I had practiced in my mind just bending the knees and diving along the ground much that way you would if you were diving for a save during a game of volley ball, landing on the underside of the forearms with the hands flexed upwards so as to be out of harm’s way and to take the brunt of the body’s weight on the upper part of the thighs while protecting the knees. As I tripped my first instinct was to run my feet back under me, but I quickly changed tactics and made what felt like a perfect dive. I must have executed it just like I had envisioned since I have scrapes on the underside of both forearms and the tops of both thighs and no soreness or bruising anywhere. I know that those running near me had to think I was crazy since I was so happy about the fall when I quickly continued running. In fact I was up and continuing in the line of runners quickly enough that only the runner immediately behind me jumped ahead of me. Actually, he literally jumped over me, for which I thanked him several times. As crazy as it sounds this fall was possibly the most positive moment of the run since I managed to execute precisely what I had practiced in my mind so many times.

The rest of the run leading up to the beginning of blue hell all runs together when I try to recall each section. The trail is wonderful. It is mostly single track, and even though there are fields of large loose rocks and many roots just waiting to snag a toe if one takes their eyes or mind off the trail for even a second, it is very runnable, with no portion, whether uphill or down, that is steep enough to bring a competitive runner to a walking pace. This race is a point to point and has an overall gain in ascent so may not lead to a PR performance, but it is very runnable and could nonetheless lead to a great performance. At least that is what a runner will be thinking before they approach the base of “blue hell”.

The lead in to the last aid station is a portion of dirt road that brings one along the edge of Cheaha Lake. It is rolling without ever becoming steep. However, I did take the uphills at a fast walk. I was still sticking to my plan of low aerobic zone and not pushing the pace, making sure that I could take a minimum of 4 strides to each inhalation and another 4 or more to each exhalation. At times it was difficult to stick to this strategy. I have a very competitive streak and part of me wanted to see what I could do if I pushed the pace, but I knew that that strategy didn’t fit into my overall plans, especially since I was coming into the event so worn out. Like the saying goes, “it is easy to be hard, but hard to be smart”. My challenge became to stick to the goal I had set for myself at the onset and not lose patience. This was made harder several times during the race when I would approach an aid station thinking that I should be nearing a certain number of miles only to find out that I was several miles further along. I was definitely not feeling as if I had covered as many miles as I had and therefore knew that I could, and possible should, be pushing a little harder. I was definitely feeling like a slacker. However, I was now approaching the last aid station and knew I only had to keep it reigned in a few more miles. I just needed to concentrate on not doing something stupid and getting myself injured.

Leaving the last aid station I was told I was headed into “blue hell”. This was said with a wicked grin by the volunteers. They looked like they had inside knowledge to something and that I was about to become initiated. I had seen a powerline cut from the road a few miles back that indeed went straight up the side of a mountain and looked like something that should require ropes to attempt. I wondered, and honestly hoped, that it was going to be the “blue hell” that everyone had been talking about. As it turned out we were not going to get to climb the powerline cut, however, the trail that we were going to take to the top was probably about as steep. It was a boulder field that wound its way up the mountain and was marked on the rocks with blue blazes. There were parts that required hands and feet to pull oneself from one rock to the next. At one point I heard voices and looked to my right and only a few feet from where I was ascending there were a pair of guys rappelling. If anyone was actually able to run this I would love to have seen it. I loved every inch of this climb and thought it was by far the most beautiful portion of the course. I love rocks. I made good time on this portion and passed a couple of people. When I topped out there was a guy sitting above the trail on a rock and he commented on how quickly I had come up and how happy I looked. I was happy, that was until I looked at my watch.

I knew I was close to the finish line and I decided to finally allow myself to compute the time I had taken and get an idea about what my finish time would look like. I felt strong. I didn’t feel tired or that I had pushed myself. I felt like the 8 hour goal I had set for myself had to be achieved or even bettered. Then I did the math. My finish time was going to be right about 8:30. I know that I didn’t come in with a great goal, but I have to admit that I was really upset by this revelation. I had thoroughly enjoyed running without giving the time it was taking a second thought, once I would have been calculating and recalculating my pace and projected finish time constantly, wondering if I could shave off a few seconds here and there. This whole race I had only run by feel, enjoying every minute. But I felt like I put in a better effort than what the time was telling me, did this mean that I wasn’t in as good a shape as I had surmised? I jogged the remainder of the trails and walked the paved roads making excuses in my head. The tough few weeks leading up to the race, while not physically demanding, had definitely taken an emotional toll. However, excuses are just that, excuses. The bottom line is that maybe I wasn’t in as good a shape as I needed to be in order to meet my goals I had set for the month of April.

As I approached the finish line Christian Griffith offers a high five and tells me that I have made good time, I hear comments from others that I look fresh and that I have finished in good time. I am smiling as I always do when I am running just from the sheer joy of it, but the smile fades as I begin questioning my fitness level. It is then that Christian appears again and asks what is up. I tell him that I really wanted 8 hours and thought I had it, that it felt like an 8 hour effort. He gives me a strange look then points at the finish line clock which reads 6:32 and asks if I am not happy with it. It seems that I had not bothered to see if my watch was set to the correct time and that it wasn’t 4pm local time when I finished but 2pm. I will definitely not go so far as to claim that I am in better shape than I thought, but maybe, just maybe, I am where I should be physically in order to attempt to tackle my goals in April. Only time will tell……

Training GPS Survey of Mountain

Still babying my hamstring so decided to do some more recon and get GPS tracks of various loops around the mountain. I stopped to chat with hikers a few times and also spent some time looking at the map and figuring out just where I happened to be at times, but it was a wonderful day on the mountain. It doesn't seem to matter how often I run these trails, they always take my breath away with their sheer beauty. Amazing rock formations and beautiful fall colors.
Some day I am just going to go out with my camera and take pictures instead of run (if I tell myself this enough times I will eventually do it :-)).

 

The Last Annual Vol State Race 500k 2010 - The Ever Evolving Rules of the Road According to Abi

 
This was not to be my first attempt at running the Vol State. My initial attempt last year ended in miserable failure. I, in no way, mean to even hint that not reaching The Rock is in anyway an indication of failure, just stepping on the ferry puts one safely outside that descriptor. However, my attempt last year was one of failure and was about as miserable as it gets. I dropped out due to starting with stress fractures and developing them into something much worse, going into the race with a knee injury which amazingly the run didn’t fix (duh), having feet that a Hollywood special effects studio would have deemed unrealistic, and being sunburned to the point of looking like a leper for weeks. It took me weeks to fully recover. I have to say, that by employing the rules listed below, this year I not only finished feeling great but was back running and mowing the yard the day following my finish.

Rule One – Weight Kills

My first rule to live by in this year’s Vol State came directly from my experiences last year. Last year I was starting the run unaided with my crew scheduled to show on day two or three. Because of this I carried way too much stuff with me at the beginning, planning to hand it off to the crew once they arrived. Not only is every ounce compounded by the force of running, but it is hot!!! This year I minimized my packing list, at least I thought I minimized my weight list, by day two I would be stopping at a post office and shipping a box home. My initial packing list consisted of a 100 oz Camelbak bladder, a bed roll, blister kit, cell phone and extra battery, flashlight, extra batteries, change of socks, iPod, Solio solar charger for electronics, S!Caps and Sport Legs, a rain poncho, a white short sleeved shirt for sun protection and in case it cooled off at night (yeah, right) and a pair of Crocs (remembering how last year there were times that I just wanted the running shoes off, but wasn’t ready to necessarily stop, and also for going potty when bedded down for the night without having to put my shoes back on), all packaged in waterproof dry bags in case of rain. All of these items were stowed in my GoLite pack. This pack is the most comfortable pack I have ever found (and the evidence in my closet indicates that I have a pack fetish), in fact it is so comfortable that I can easily pack too much. What I didn’t take into account is the fact that, while comfortable, it is hot in that it doesn’t allow for heat dissipation. By day four I would be sending the pack home and replacing it with something smaller and covering less of my body surface.

Rule Two – Address Small Issues and Potential Injuries as Soon as They Arise.

This is also a rule that has it’s origin in my failed attempt of the previous year. Last year my attention was only on the clock and the mileage I wanted to achieve each day. When hotspots arose I decided to only address them at the next scheduled stop. This proved disastrous. My feet literally were a pulpy mess by the end of the first day, hell, they were a mess by the time I reached the first town. To be honest, I did not really know how to treat and prevent blisters last year like I do now, so my attempts to mitigate the mess were sorry at best and as a result I decided to just gut through it. This year, as soon as I felt a hotspot forming, I addressed it at the next opportunity. This worked well for me with one exception, I was along the side of a road with no shoulder and no place to step away from the road or sit down so that I could take care of my foot. I could feel the hotspot and knew how to address it, but could do nothing about it for nearly an hour as I felt it turn from a hotspot to a small blister to a large blister. This was one of the few negative moments for me during the run. I was so frustrated and almost in pity party mode. It was the only time I wished for a crew, just to be able to sit down in a car seat and fix my foot. While I was beginning to feel sorry for myself I had switched to a fast walk in order to mitigate the damage and my hand happened to catch my eye. In my cupped hand the sunset was reflecting bright red and it made it look like I was holding the sunset in the palm of my hand. It was such an amazing moment, and I would have missed it if I had been running since my hands would have been higher and turned at a different angle. I realized that even the low moments have a purpose and a silver lining, had I not been forced to go through the development of this blister I may have missed this moment, and blister or not, I wouldn’t trade it, it was truly amazing.

Rule Three – As A Solo Runner, Planning for Fuel is Imperative and Ever Changing and Has A Profound Impact on Your Pace

My third rule was only a concept prior to running this year and was not something I had an issue with last year. As a solo runner you have to be ever aware of when your next opportunity to refuel will happen. This has a huge impact on how much fuel you should consume prior to starting the next leg of the journey and also whether or not you will be running as you leave on that leg. In my ruck I carried a 100oz water bladder. I did not intend to, nor did I always, fill it to capacity as I was leaving a fueling point. For me, trying to run with a full 100oz was not a smart option. Not only was the weight significant, but the bouncing and chafing would eat me alive. To do the planning you not only have to consider how far it is to the next location and how much you will need to consume due to the intense wet heat, but also what they might have to offer and whether or not the store or restaurant is likely to be open at the time of day that you will be passing through. Ideally I planned to consume and carry only what I needed to get me to the next point without allowing myself to completely tank my blood sugar levels or become dehydrated. For the most part this worked well for me, however, there was more than one instance when trying to carry only what I needed backfired and resulted in slowing down my progress significantly.

The most disastrous of these came on my last night on the road. I had gone into a Hardee’s in Manchester and had a sit down meal during the heat of the day in order to not only refuel but to also get away from the sun and cool off during the worst of the heat. I knew that the next town was less than six miles away at this point and that my dinner destination was only 9 miles past that. As a result I only took enough fluid to get me to the next town. This proved to not be an issue. I made it to the next town in good time and not feeling ready for another meal resupplied with about 60oz of fluid, a mixture of Powerade and water, an ice cream cone, and a Coke. I didn’t linger in this town knowing that the next town was small and that the restaurant and convenience store would likely not be open late. I knew I should arrive between 8PM and 9PM and felt confident that something would be open as long as I got there before 9PM. Imagine my surprise and dismay when I arrived in Pelham to find not only that everything was closed, but that there wasn’t a vending machine anywhere. This was a lowpoint morale wise. I sat on the curb of the convenience store and took stock of my supplies. I had one small package of honey roasted peanuts and about 10oz of fluid to get me through the next seven miles of road and this included the climb up Monteagle Mountain. Knowing I was not likely to find anything before reaching Monteagle I had to revise my plan of pushing through and running most of the distance between the two towns.

Knowing that my stomach was growling and that I was well hydrated at the moment I decided to ration out my supplies. I would eat about 10 peanut halves and take a sip of water each time my stomach began to cramp and growl. While this should get me to the top of the mountain, it would not allow for me to push the pace. I also knew that there were few places to get off the road once I began the climb and that, it being night and the fact that I do not use a light at night, I may not see them so I began looking for a place to take a preemptive nap. I soon found a house for sale with a front porch surrounded by a railing that was obviously empty. There was also a street lamp near enough for me to see as I placed my bedroll and cleaned up after my nap but without it being direct enough to mess with my sleep. I wasn’t really tired or sleepy at this point, planning to reach Monteagle at an early enough time to get a hotel (it would have been only the second such luxury of the race, my only night in a hotel being as I was leaving Lewisburg) and then make the final push in the morning, but I lay down anyway to give my body a rest and set my timer for 45 minutes. I was there probably less than 20 minutes when I felt what I thought was a mosquito on my wrist and I smacked it only to realize it wasn’t a mosquito. Upon further inspection I found that it was a Brown Recluse spider and that it had bitten me. Luckily it was small, but there were two more where my hand had been so I quickly packed up my stuff and continued on.

I made good time climbing Monteagle. While I will always be a single-track trail girl at heart, any mountain will raise my spirits and energize me so I was very happy during this portion despite the supply snafu. However, by the time I reached the top I was dehydrated and my blood sugar was so low that I stumbled into the gas station with the McDonald’s attached looking like I had been on a bender. This gas station was a half mile or so off course by the time I made the round trip but I thought it was necessary since I did not expect to find anything else along the way open. It was funny though since earlier in the day I was not willing to cross the road to get to a restaurant that I preferred, choosing rather to eat a less desirable meal as opposed to crossing the road. By the time I entered, I was not able to speak or think coherently and am sure that I made the girls there a little nervous. Not to mention that I smelled so strongly that I was offending myself. I quickly bought a soda and a supply of various types of peanuts and sat down outside on the curb to drink the soda and check out my feet as I allowed my blood sugar to return to a safe level. After recovering for a few minutes I proceeded to the drive-thru lane and ordered some food and more fluids to resupply before heading to my next destination for the night where I planned to take my final nap in the relative comfort to be found on a picnic table before pressing through to the finish line. While I survived this, I was very glad it was the last night out since I never did get my blood sugar corrected before the finish line. To be honest, it was the second night in a row that I found my nighttime refueling point to be closed when I arrived, I will definitely have to factor this into next year’s solo attempt.

Rule Four – Shit Happens…Sometimes Literally, Just Deal With It and Move On

The next rule is one we should all be familiar with as ultrarunners, but it seems to grow exponentially as the length of the trek increases. We are all familiar with the little things that crop up, a pack strap that becomes annoying, an article of clothing that rubs us in just the wrong way unexpectedly, not having the fueling options of our first choice. When these things happen on a long trek they should be addressed immediately and then we move on. However, sometimes things that we never saw coming happen and they can pose interesting challenges. How we deal with them will set the tone for the race and make a difference as to whether we are simply trudging along or truly enjoying the journey.

My most notable incident of this category happened on my third morning out there. I had made some changes to my pack and the supplies I was carrying and had also gotten breakfast and was intending to find a nice shady place to eat and then begin running, really hoping to make up some time now that my pack was lighter. I was feeling great and very excited about the morning’s run when all of a sudden I had a series of stomach cramps that caused me to double over. My system had been cramping and being an issue for most of the night, in fact I woke to a start thinking I had heard a bear at one point only to realize it was me. I was hoping it was just an adjustment to the long hot days and that it would quickly pass. This was not the case. Without any warning I had a bout of uncontrollable diarrhea. I was very lucky that I was not on the open road when this happened and was able to quickly get out of sight behind an abandoned building and check out the situation. Well, it wasn’t good. In fact it was a bloody mess literally. I was a little concerned about all the blood, new and old until I remembered that I had accidentally eaten a large amount of little red ants the previous morning and that my system was definitely not used to that. How did I accidentally eat a box of ants? Well, it is actually quite funny. I had stopped at McDonald’s for a dinner to go and had added a couple of apple pies thinking I would want them for breakfast while traveling between cities. I had later taken a nap at a construction site in a nice sandy area. I had noticed a few ants in the area, but they didn’t seem to be interested in me so I curled up and went to sleep using my ruck as a pillow. After an hour and a half I woke and decided to continue on. I figured it was a good idea to eat one of the apple pies and took one out of the bag. I don’t use a light of any kind at night on roads and figured my hands were dirty so I opened the box and sort of tapped the pie out into my mouth. I noticed it was really sandy and wondering how I managed to get sand inside the box, inside a bag, inside my ruck I decided to just wash down each bite with water and not chew so I wouldn’t get sand in my teeth. This worked and I didn’t give it another thought until an hour or so after dawn when I decided to eat the other pie. I opened the box and it was a solid mass of ants. I quickly dumped the pie into my hand and proceeded to shake and blow on the pie until all the ants were gone with a “you are NOT getting my breakfast you little buggers” and then ate the pie. It was only an hour or so later that it dawned on me that I had not eaten a box of sand with my pie in the middle of the night, but a box of ants. I figured they were good for a protein boost and that there wasn’t anything I could do about it now so I just kept moving. Anyway, it appears that my system is not geared for the consumption of ants, at least not in the quantity that I consumed and not alive. Oh well, I did what I had to do. I proceeded to cut away much of the lining of my shorts and sort of fashioned a makeshift diaper out of one of the extra bandanas I was carrying and headed out. It was a couple of days before the bleeding stopped completely and I went through several bandanas but it only served to slow me somewhat. I figured that if it didn’t cease by the time I reached the rock I could always get it checked out once I got home.

Rule Five – When You Are Going to be Wearing/Carrying the Same Gear for Hours or Days, Choose Wisely.

I put a lot of thought into what I would wear and carry for this trek. I chose a pair of shorts that had pockets and were moisture resistant, a jogbra that had served me well over several races, my Injinji socks since my biggest blister risk is between my toes and they allow for me to only tape the toes that need it, and a pair of Vasque Velocity shoes. All of this sounds reasonable for a long trek on pavement except for the shoes. They are trail shoes, heavy and solid trail shoes. However, for years they have served me well (of course they have dropped that line now) and they are what my feet like and what usually do not give me any problems with blisters unless I do something stupid. I really fought over the idea of using trail shoes on the road and have tried countless models of road shoes with the same result, I always get blisters if in them for over an hour. In the end I decided on the trail shoes and am so happy that I did. With the exception of the hot spot that I couldn’t treat in a timely manner earlier, I only managed to get a couple of minor blisters and after they had been treated they were good to go and did not give me any further problems. I did not take any optional changes of clothing and while I smelled really bad by the end, I was still for the most part comfortable in what I was wearing. The one exception was the night I left Wartrace, TN. I was damp and felt sticky. No matter how hard I tried, and the fact that I always stripped down before taking a nap and hung my clothes up to dry as much as they could, I was never dry during the race. For some reason this evening was the worst, my backside felt like I had been rolling in nettles. The ruck was long enough to just cover the waistband and top of the shorts and made it worse, causing the damp shorts to be pressed against me. It was a long and very dark road and there was no traffic. At first I decided to roll the shorts down as much as I could, but that caused them to bunch funny between my legs and was annoying. Finally I didn’t think I could take it any longer, but I wasn’t in a place to take a break and I wasn’t sleepy and was moving well. So, I decided to just take my shorts off and run without them. I kept them in my hand and when the rare car would pass I would put my hands on my hips and hold the shorts across my front, or back as the situation called for, then switch them as the car passed me. I did wonder what I would do if two cars approached at the same time, but figured I would figure it out if the situation arose. The situation never arose and after a couple of hours I began to get to an area where there was more traffic and more light and put my shorts back on. By that time the nettle sensation was gone and they felt great again. As for the way I smelled, it was during this same stretch, while not wearing my shorts that I came across a skunk in the road. It was walking along the white line and at first I thought I was hallucinating and that the line was moving. When I realized it was a skunk I gave him a wide berth. Then I stopped. I started thinking about how I would smell if I had been sprayed. Then I started thinking that it would be a preferable smell to the one I was currently wearing. I stood for a few moments. I knew that skunk spray stayed with you, I have been sprayed before, but I couldn’t remember if it was a base or acid and if it would irritate the skin and potentially cause chafing. I pondered this question for a moment before realizing that I couldn’t be sure and that I did not want to risk something that would burn my skin or cause me to break out. So after a moment I decided to not go back and nudge the skunk with my toe deciding rather to preemptively apologize for the way I smelled when necessary.

Rule Six – If At All Possible, Go Into The Event Well Rested, Well Hydrated, Well Fed, Acclimated to the Environment, and Injury Free.

Okay, for me this was a goal that was only partially realized. I was fairly well hydrated, definitely well fed (THANK YOU MOJO BURRITO!!!, home of the world’s best burrito and bowl after bowl of queso that no one cares if you eat with a spoon), and injury free, but not well rested at all. I also misjudged the becoming acclimated to the steam-room-like heat. I had moved about a month prior to the race into my dream home. It was my Grandparents home on Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga, TN. However, the move included 20,000 lbs of household goods, nearly all in boxes, and an acre of land that had not been tended to in many years. Add five kiddos to the unpacking and brush and ivy clearing and it amounted to many long and exhausting days. I am a very productive woman, but only one woman. I had turned off the A/C in my house and worked in the heat of the day to get acclimated, but there is no getting acclimated to the heat here in the damp south. I now know that the heat compounds with the number of days you are exposed without relief. Instead of becoming acclimated like one does at altitude, when dealing with 24/7 steamy heat one only becomes more damp, more hot, and more drained. It felt like I was being glazed like a rack of ribs ready for a southern barbeque. Even when I would strip down and get into my sleeping bag at night I would remain damp. So, if you are coming to do Vol State, especially if you are doing it solo and unaided, hang out in your air conditioned world and store up your energy, you will be hot and damp and there is nothing you can do about it!!!

Rule Seven – Even The Best Laid Plans Will Change Along the Way, Be Flexible and Don’t Be Afraid to Revise as the Situation Calls For.

I went into Vol State with the goal of five days. I would have to average one 50k run every 12 hours. In my current physical condition, I thought this was doable for me. However, I made this plan when I thought I would be an aided runner. I made maps that reminded me where each 50k mark was and what was nearby so that my crew could have everything in place so that I could rest as needed. Somehow I didn’t think to change this plan once I found out that I was going to be unaided. In fact it was a couple of days into the race and a few snafus before I altered this goal.

After the first 24 hours I was right on target. It felt great and not too pushed. I felt that I had a shot at my goal. Even though I had had a few little incidents that robbed me of time on the first day, I felt that everything was now going to go smoothly and that I would have an easier time on the second day staying on goal. The most notable incident on the first day involved my estrogen patch. I am post menopausal and must wear an estrogen patch. When the patch goes beyond it useful life I have trouble dealing with heat and I do not sleep well at all (however, if you ask close family members they will tell you there are many more side effects, nothing like having a rough morning and having your eight year old walk up and ask if you needed a new estrogen patch to bring on reality). Normally, due to my level of exercise and sweat rate, a patch lasts me about three to four days. Knowing this I changed my patch the morning of the start and carried an extra patch with me. What I forgot was the tegaderm patch that I cover the estrogen with so that it will stay attached. So the first snafu of my race happened when I reached Union City and went inside to a restroom. As I pulled my shorts down, my estrogen patch flipped off and into the toilet. I just stared for a moment and then decided to apply the patch I was carrying with me. I knew that the heat would kill me otherwise and that the little amount of sleep I was planning would not come to me if I did not have the estrogen in my system. I also realized that the patch I was applying had no hope of sticking without a tegaderm covering. I then decided to hurry into the first drug store I came across and purchase a patch. Well, it seems that tegaderm isn’t carried in a regular drug store, I would have to go to a home health supply store. The pharmacist directed me to the location of the one nearest, and while a few blocks off course, I deemed it a necessary pit stop. However, as I was making my way, I came across an emergency room. Knowing that they would have a supply, I decided to pop in and beg my way to a patch. I entered the waiting room and approached the lady at the desk. I proceeded to tell her that, while she worked in an emergency room and heard many strange requests, I may just be making one of the strangest requests she had yet to encounter. I explained about the race and the fact that my estrogen didn’t have a hope of staying put without a tegaderm cover and begged her for one. With a laugh she motioned me back to the nurses’ station where I again explained what I needed and why I needed it. I do have to say that they were quick to supply me with a patch. However, the patches they had required two hands to apply. So here I am trying to pull down my shorts to expose the estrogen patch and get the tegaderm into position with only two hands. Nearby were what turned out to be two medic students there for a clinical rotation. I quickly called one over and told him that I was going to pull down my shorts and that I would appreciate him applying the patch for me. I have to say that he did as he was told without question, but I bet he has a story when he gets back to class.

While the estrogen incident was only the first unexpected time waster on the first day, when running solo and being self sufficient there are too many unexpected time wasters to count. It seems that everything takes more time that you first thought it would. So, by the end of the second day I had revised my plan to a six day race and was feeling pretty confident that it was attainable, as long as nothing too unexpected didn’t crop up. As for letting go of the original plan, that was really hard and I fought it. Instead, telling myself that I would just have to do 35 miles each 12 hours or else have a really good day or night and then go back to the original. As is evident by my seven and a half day finish, this wasn’t the only time I had to revise my plan. I will go into further detail in the explanation of Rule Eight.

Rule Eight – When You Find Yourself Without a Safety Net, Allow Yourself to Dial it Back, Meeting Your Goal is Optional but Surviving to Run Another Day Is Imperative.

As an unaided runner you begin the race somewhat without a safety net. There is no one dedicated to knowing where you are and what you are doing every moment. Not even someone that will really go beating the bushes and questioning store clerks if you aren’t seen or heard from for a few hours. This did not scare me. In fact in many ways I was looking forward to it. One of my favorite parts of training for long races and attending them is that I get to spend hours alone in the woods as if I were the only person on the planet. Anyone that knows me knows that I am a social butterfly and that I love being surrounded by people. I love meeting new people and keep an open door policy at my house for anyone wanting to come train or visit. But there is another side of me that craves and enjoys seclusion just as much. I was looking forward to being alone and to the challenge of figuring everything out along the way on my own. However, I started the race with a cell phone. As long as I had my cell phone I didn’t feel as if I were ever truly out there on my own. Worst case scenario I could call in the cavalry and, with the GPS feature on the phone, tell them exactly where to come collect me. This all changed on Saturday afternoon.

I had brought a solar charger but it had come without the correct attachment to charge my Blackberry. Prior to the Last Supper I had attempted to get to a Radio Shack in time to pick up the required cord. As it happened I arrived just after closing and was not able to get the cord. As I usually do when things don’t go as planned I chalked it up to “wasn’t meant to be” and decided to only turn on my phone for morning and evening updates and incase of an emergency. I foolishly thought turning the phone off would prevent running down the battery. What I didn’t know is that the GPS function continued to attempt to find satellites while the phone was turned off. By Saturday afternoon both my primary and back-up battery were dead. Did I mention that my phone was my alarm clock for my scheduled naps? Anyway, I was very frustrated with the dead phone and the next time that Gary came by I threw the phone and the extra battery into his trunk and said good riddance. What I didn’t consider until later was that I could have stopped somewhere and bought another charger and plugged the phone in while taking breaks or getting food. The reason that I hadn’t brought the charger was that I did not intend to be inside somewhere that might have an outlet long enough to allow the phone to charge. By the time this dawned on me it was too late and retrieving the phone would have switched me into the aided category and if I was going into that category it was only going to be with the addition of a full crew to take care of all my needs, not just to retrieve a cell phone.

It was the next day, after oversleeping the previous night, that it truly dawned on me that I was completely without a safety net. I was pushing myself well beyond my comfort zone to make up for lost time and I got to the point that I was nearly swooning with the sun and heat and almost stumbled off the shoulder of the road. This brought me to a full stop. I suddenly imagined what could have happened if I had fallen down the embankment and become truly injured. My first thought was that I could always call someone to come get me. Then I remembered that I did not have a cell phone. This truly brought a shiver of fear up my spine. While I try not to let my racing impact my family too much and make sure that the kids are doing something fun that wouldn’t involve me anyway when I am gone, I realized that they did expect me to come home alive and relatively healthy. It was at this moment that I let go of any particular finish goal. Rather, I decided to just relax, have fun, and stay within my comfort zone for the remainder of the race. Instead of the to-go line at fast-food restaurants or grabbing what I could at convenience stores to take two meals at a time I began to find local places and sit down and order in and meet and talk to others. The race itself changed from a race with a time goal to a vacation in which I really got to see the country side and meet people that I would otherwise never have had a chance to talk to. However, I still had doubts that my once extremely competitive side would accept this and allow me to live with the decision without any regrets.

The only time that my thinking on this altered was when I was close enough to the finish line at “smell the barn” so to speak. I was coming through New Hope along a road that, while fairly exposed, did offer pockets of shade, albeit often on opposite sides of the road. I was making my way through this section like a soldier in combat going from shady spot to shady spot as if they were safe positions and running the distance between as if I required covering fire. It was the time of day that I usually found a shady spot to get a little relief from the sun, but I was intending to push through to the finish and then rest. It was here that I had my scariest moment of the entire race. I was standing in a shady spot and saw that the next one was on the opposite side of the road. I took a deep breath and made a run for it, not pausing to look for oncoming cars. I was very nearly hit by cars coming from both directions. This terrified me. I noticed a shady spot in someone’s yard next to their mailbox and decided to lay down for about 10 minutes to reclaim my bearings. I had made it a habit to not stop in someone’s yard out of courtesy throughout the trip, but this was an emergency. I set my timer on my watch (purchased along the way just for this purpose) and lay down. I wasn’t there 3 minutes before I became aware that a truck had pulled into the driveway and that the driver was making their way towards me while talking on their cell phone. I was ready to apologize and then beg to lay there for just a few more minutes when I realized that the driver was talking to 911 and had called for an ambulance. I am assuming from the overheard conversation that it was one of the cars that had nearly hit me and that they thought I needed medical assistance. I quickly hoped up and explained what I was doing and that the finishline was nearby and that I really was okay and had recovered and was able to call off the ambulance, but it woke me up to the fact that the race isn’t over until it is over and that I needed to survive the final eight or so miles.

I quickly made my way to the last pit stop before the finish line and spent about an hour and a half recovering before heading up the mountain. The man who owns the store was wonderful and didn’t even seem to think it all that odd that I bought a bag of ice then proceeded to sit on it, lay on it, hug it to me like a child, then rest my legs and feet on it until I was cooled off and ready to run. In fact he cooked me what may have been the best cheeseburger that I have ever eaten and insisted over my protests that I remain there until I could eat at least have of it, this took awhile since my stomach was in terrible shape, but made all the difference for the last leg and as a result I was able to run at least 80% of the final 7 miles and felt great at the finish. I do have to say that even at this time I consider slowing down and staying in my comfort zone and playing it safe rather than pushing it to be the best decision that I made throughout the entire event. I relish the decision and it turned my time out there on the roads into the best weeklong vacation that I have had the joy to experience.

Rule Nine (and the most important one by far) – Wherever You Are, Whatever You Are Doing, Embrace Each and Every Moment and Enjoy Them to the Fullest.

This is my primary rule for life in general and it did not change while out there on the roads. I am often told that I still look at the world through the eyes of a three year old. I stop to smell the flowers and look at the interesting bugs along the way. I take great pleasure in watching the sunrise or the patterns in the clouds. I question everything and the most common thought or word on my lips is “why”. Not that I require an answer, but I love pondering why things are like that are and why things happen as they do. I also live with the belief that every moment you survive is by definition a good moment. That experiences can be divided into two categories, good and learning, and that if you managed to live through it, it truly couldn’t be all bad (a little caveat here, I have been fortunate in my life to never have experienced any truly bad times and at this time feel that the only thing that would fall into that category is the loss of a child, and that is something that I don’t even attempt to think about and would likely not survive). There are times when I will think for a moment that I wished things could be different somehow, but give me another minute and I will be looking for the lesson or the opportunity that will present itself that I might have missed if I had gotten my way. I didn’t start out life this way and it took quite a while and lots of living along the way to get here, but here I will stay. The most amazing part of this outlook on life is the split second when a moment goes from being frustrating or a ‘downer’ to the moment when it reveals itself as an amazing experience. The most memorable of these from Vol State happened in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I had taken a planned nap in a cemetery that my Mother had found during my attempt last year. I was planning to only be there a total of two hours to include set up and repacking. However, this was the first nap without my cell phone which had been my alarm clock. Figuring I wouldn’t oversleep since I usually was packed and ready to go by the time the alarm went off I found a nice comfortable spot to sleep and removed my clothes and draped them across some of the headstones to dry out. I did not have a watch with me and could find the time on my iPod, but couldn’t get the alarm function to work right for me so had fallen asleep hoping to wake in time to meet my goal. This was at a time when I still had a finishing goal to meet. I awoke to a light rain, not enough to soak me, just enough to wake me. When I looked at my iPod for the time I was crushed, I had slept nearly 5 hours. For a second I couldn’t move, feeling the weight of this and knowing that my newly created time goal was just completely blown out of the water. I quickly jumped up and began moving my ruck, sleeping bag, and clothes to the porch of the church in order to keep them from getting soaked. As I was making a final dash for my shorts the bottom fell out of the sky and it began to pour. At that moment I noticed how wonderful the cooing rain felt and threw my arms wide and tilted back my head to maximize the sensation. Before I knew it I was spinning in circles and laughing out loud. The exact thought that went through my mind was, “while there have been and will be moments that equal this, it truly doesn’t get any better than this.” For the next several minutes I danced barefoot and naked around the cemetery laughing out loud and completely giving myself over to the joy of the moment. I realized that even if my race ended right there, or something came up along the way that prevented me from reaching the rock, it would all have been worth it for those few unexpected minutes of pure joy. The rock lost its lure on me and the race became about the joy of the journey. Every step following this was viewed from this perspective and I wouldn’t go back and change a thing.

Strolling Jim 40 miler - May 1, 2010

For starters, to call this a “race” report is stretching it a little. I definitely was not racing! That being said, this was an amazing event. The organization was first rate and the support offered by both the race staff and the volunteers and crews out there was amazing. Strolling Jim takes place completely on roads, but the scenery is beautiful as the roads roll through rural Tennessee. Definitely a race to put on your to-do list, if it isn’t already there.

I never had any aspirations of actually “racing” Strolling Jim this year. It fell as my 5th ultra in 6 weeks and was only 2 weeks before Massanutten 100 miler so I was going into this race as a final long training run in preparation for Massanutten. A little over a week out a good friend (and adopted big brother) called to say that he would not be attending and graciously offered his number to my son Thomas. Once TJ decided to run my focus turned to making sure he had a good experience. He is a budding ultrarunner and had finished his second ultra two weeks prior when he logged 53 miles during Wood’s Ferry 24 hour. While he enjoys pushing himself, his primary focus right now is having fun out there and I back that 100 percent. I have also found that if he is signed up for an event my primary focus also becomes making sure that he is having fun.

The race started with the blowing of the conch shell (of Barkley fame) by Gary Cantrell. With over 100 runners toeing the starting line it was quite a sight as we headed out of town on a road that was just winding enough for those of us starting in the back to see the front runners taking off and leading the way. I quickly fell in with a few runners around me. I tend to start a little faster than TJ but planned to slow down (even more) a few miles into the race and allow him to catch up with me so we could do the later part of the race together. I know that he will be fine at the beginning and that he is patient enough to start slow and let the body warm up gradually, but I worry about him later in a run and want to be by his side in case he starts having any issues that need to be addressed. I knew that his blisters hadn’t healed completely from Wood’s Ferry and didn’t want him creating new ones if we could do something about it. This was also the first non-timed ultra event that I had allowed him to sign up for and I wanted to keep an eye on him.

Within the first mile or so I fell in with Mike Montgomery from Franklin, TN and we chatted and made our way together through the first 26 miles. We were going slowly and discussing anything and everything as we went along. I felt bad that he was hanging with me and going slower than he had planned, but I really didn’t want to get too far ahead of TJ and even considered turning around and making my way back to him. We would alternate between jogging and walking as the terrain changed, although I will have to agree that aside from one or two little hills in the part of the race called “the walls” that it is a very runnable course and that the little encouraging (said tongue-in-cheek) notes on the road were correct that it was pretty wimpy to walk, especially on the parts that were clearly marked with “this is not a hill”, or that stated “only wimps walk here”. Finally at the marathon mark Mike went ahead and picked up the pace to make his way to the finish line. I was definitely sandbagging, not really wanting to come to a full out stop, and not at the point yet to want to run back to find him, but deliberately moving slowly so that TJ could close the gap between us. When I got to the 29 mile aid station I made the decision to stay put and wait until he made his way there before continuing on.

While waiting at the 29 mile aid station I changed my socks since a few blisters were forming and lay down after a few minutes to wait for TJ to arrive. My personal philosophy during an ultra event is that if you aren’t moving forward, then rest the body as best as the situation allows. It was while I was here that I heard the news that the teenager had either turned his ankle or hurt his foot and that he had accepted a ride to the finish line. I figured that TJ’s blisters had come back and that he had been smart enough to call it a day. Now thinking that my son was waiting for me at the finish line I decided to run the remainder of the race at a faster, but still comfortable, pace. I was definitely developing some hot spots on my feet and possibly even a blister or two. My road shoes do not shed water as well as my trail shoes and I was contributing the blisters to this fact, however, on further consideration I think it was just due to the fact that I wasn’t wearing my beloved Vasque Velocity trail shoes. I am considering to just forego trying to find road shoes that don’t cause me blisters and just run everything in my Vasques. Anyhow, I left the aid station having made the decision to set my focus on the finish line and get there at a reasonable pace.

When you leave the 29 mile aid station you immediately head into “the walls”. This portion of the course is on a small single and a half sized road that winds up and over a hill. It is beautiful and scenic and what I considered the prettiest part of the entire course. I did walk up a couple of the hills, but this had more to do with digging out my Sportlegs capsules and fueling than to do with the steepness of the hill. My theory is that if the road is paved and passable by cars, then it isn’t steep enough to justify walking in an event of this distance. I was picking up my pace and really feeling good by the time I came to the highpoint on this portion of the course. I also knew that, while the course continued to gently roll, it was generally downhill from here.

My time from the 29 mile aid station to the finish line at 41.2 miles was 1:40 and a few seconds. My split for the last 5k was 28 minutes. Consider my overall finish time of 8:55 and I could have crawled the first 29 miles as fast as I “ran” them. Not to mention that for much of the last portion it was pouring rain. The droplets were so big that it looked like hail and it was blowing horizontally. Luckily the wind was mostly from behind when it gusted and so the rain wasn’t too blinding. When I neared the finish line I began looking for TJ. As Mike Melton, the RD, congratulated me I asked where TJ was just as he was asking me how TJ was doing. I told him that I had heard that TJ had injured his foot and had been given a ride back and that he should be here waiting for me. He informed me that a kid had hurt his foot and returned by car, but that it wasn’t my kid. With lightening dancing all around, a tornado watch in effect, and the roads flooding I nearly went into a panic. I quickly made my way over to a group of runners and asked if they had heard anything about TJ and when they replied to the negative I took off for my car intending to retrace the race route in reverse until I found him.

I had left my keys in my car, in a place that wasn’t obvious but that I would remember, at least that is what I thought before heading to the start line. Now it was pouring rain with lightening everywhere and my baby was out there somewhere. As I was frantically searching for my keys Byron Backer drove up beside my car. I didn’t even say hello, just said that I couldn’t find my keys and asked (more like ordered) him to head back out and find TJ and that I would follow as soon as I found my keys. After another minute or so I found my keys and headed out. Checking my phone to see if I had a message from TJ I found that the battery had died and, being a blackberry, it wouldn’t allow me to make a call until it had charged for a few minutes. I knew that TJ was a very smart and responsible kid, I didn’t think he would get into a position in which he was in danger, but I didn’t want him getting into a position in which he became miserable enough that he turned his back on racing. I don’t push him, and really don’t care if he races or not, but he truly loves the sport and I don’t want him to lose that love.

After a few minutes of trying to follow the course in reverse with the water on the road deep enough to cover the course markings my phone rang. When I answered it, it was TJ telling me that he was safe and at a house about a mile from the 29 mile aid station. He said that when the lightening was hitting all around him he took refuge at a house on the course to keep from being struck. I was so relieved and actually very proud of him for being smart enough to come in out of the lightening. The thought that he just might be too smart to make an ultrarunner, seeing as he had had enough sense to come in out of the rain so to speak, even passed through my mind and made me laugh a little. He further told me that he was waiting out the lightening and intending to get back out on the course. I told him that I was very proud of him, but that his race was over. I informed him that he was a minor and that his mommy had just officially pulled him from the event. He accepted this and didn’t argue, but also did not seem relieved. He had gone out smart enough to finish the race and would have kept at it if I hadn’t made him quit. I told him that the lightening wasn’t going anywhere unless he was willing to wait a day or so and that that he had finished 28 miles, officially another ultra distance run and that he would live to race another day. I also reminded him that he had now done two ultra distance events only two weeks apart and that that was quite an accomplishment for a just turned 16 year old.

When I arrived to get him he was on his way to hypothermia with his lips and fingers already turning bluish and his whole body shivering from being wet and cold. We quickly thanked the woman that had given him shelter and made our way to the car. As we were walking to the car we saw a lightening strike hit the field across the road. He picked up his pace and climbed into the car and did not say a single word about me having made the decision to pull him from the event. As we drove the remainder of the course to the finish line we did not pass a single runner even though I had seen more than a dozen on the drive out. I had made up my mind that I would do my best to talk anyone that I passed into accepting a ride to the finish line. It is one thing to be out in a torrential downpour, yet quite another to be out in a lightening storm. Much of the course was now under water with one pond like section that was up to the running boards on the side of my Pilot.

When we arrived at the finish line I let everyone know that TJ was safe and after chatting for a few minutes we began our long drive home. As we made our way home I told him how proud I was of him, not just for completing 28 miles, but also for being smart and responsible. I also told him that DNF didn’t just stand for Did Not Finish, but also for Did Nothing Fatal and that if he intended to pursue a life that included ultramarathons that this would not be his last DNF and that that was okay too. While he has the ability to do very well at this sport, both physically and mentally, I reminded him that we do this for fun, for the love of running and pushing ourselves, and that it wasn’t going to put a roof over our heads or food on the table and that walking away to run another day didn’t mean he was a failure, it simply meant that, for whatever reason, that particular day wasn’t his day to cross the finish line.