IronMan Kentucky 2008 (A Matter of Perspective)

Originally written on Tuesday, September 2, 2008 at 8:40pm

When I got back to my hotel Sunday night after the race I pulled out my leather journal I picked up in Italy and started writing an entry about my experience in the 2008 IronMan Kentucky race. Here is what I wrote:

So it's just past 11 p.m. and I am resting after a very long day. I woke up at 4:45 a.m. and went through my normal pre-race routine. I took a shower, started listening to my iPod, stretched, dressed in my tri gear, ran a mental check on everything I needed, and left for the transition area.

Once there I checked to make sure my bike was secure and that the tires were still fully inflated from the overnight stay in the transition area. Satisfied with everything, I began walking towards the swim start.

A quick aside: One of the many ever-present contradictions in my life is the dichotomy between being in 'deep thought' and being in 'the zone' whenever I train or race. Sometimes it's one or the other, and sometimes it changes between the two throughout the duration.

As I walked to the swim start I thought about all the preparations I had made to get myself ready for this race. The intense training sessions twice a day for a month leading up to the race. Booking the flight and hotel nearly a year in advance. The extra days I took off from training in the two weeks leading up to the IronMan. Everything. All for this one chance. This one opportunity to put everything on the line for a chance to qualify myself for the Kona World Championship IronMan in Hawaii. I was confident. I was prepared. I was ready.

On the morning of the race the water temperature in the Ohio river was a frigid 83 degrees, far too warm for the use of a wetsuit. As I expected. Knowing that the swim leg of any triathlon had traditionally been my weakest event I spent a considerable amount of extra time building up my endurance in the water for this race. A 5,000 yard swim three times a week gave me some much-needed assistance getting ready to start the race.

As I made my way toward the dock where each athlete would jump into the Ohio river I allowed my mind to go still. The calm before the coming storm...and with that, the race began.

Jumping into the water I immediately noticed how poor the visibility was. I couldn't make out anything past two feet, including the tips of my outstretched arms. My main concern though, was the quality of the water. As the second busiest commercial waterway in the United States, the Ohio river isn't what I would really describe as...clean. Far from it. I suppose it was inevitable that I would end up swallowing some of the water throughout the course of the swim. Still, I didn't think the water would cause me any significant problems.

As opposed to the traditional 'mass start' of an IronMan in Louisville they basically line all the athletes up on the dock and allow them to jump off a few at a time. The benefit to this is that you don't have some 2,000 athletes trying to occupy the same space in the river at the same time, but on the other hand having so many athletes staggered out does cause some confusion and a lot of traffic later on as the faster athletes try to pass the slower ones who started ahead. Plus, the race clock isn't accurate for anyone except the pro athletes who start in the beginning. That, to me, is very irritating.

As I climbed out of the water at the transition area I took a moment to record the split on my watch. I swam the 2.4 mile open water river swim in 1:22:03. Out of nearly 1,000 male participants in the race, including professional athletes representing over 22 different countries, I posted the 91st best swim time. Out of 1,000. Needless to say I was very happy with my swim time and very thankful for all of the training I had put in.

Immediately after leaving the water I sprinted (I don't jog) into the transition area and put on my socks, shoes, gloves, glasses and helmet for the bike portion of the race. I didn't bother bringing different clothes to change into. After bathing myself with a quick layer of sun screen I hopped on my bike and was off peddling away. Total time spent in transition? 4:10...nice.

One quick side note. It was here that I made a small mistake. Usually, I keep a towel in my bike gear bag to dry off my feet before slipping into my socks, but I must have taken the towel out the previous night for some reason. Anyways, more on that later.

The bike portion of the race...112 miles. As if the distance was not intimidating enough, welcome to Louisville, Kentucky. Where the climbs are steep, the hills are many, and they never end. Ever. The entire length of the course save for the first and last 12 miles was nothing more than a contiguous length of rolling hills.

Revelation #1: Plan accordingly.

My bike...is amazing. I love her. Yes, my bike is a she for a number of reasons. Her name, by the way, is 'Whistler'. Not only because she is so stunningly beautiful that people can't but help to whistle when she rides by, but because of her speed. My fastest recorded speed on her actually came in today's race. It was over 50 m.p.h. On a bike. I was actually going so fast that I was drifting too close to a congested group of cyclists in front of me and I had to slow down. I've yet to come across a bike faster on a down slope. Often times you can hear the wind literally whistle through my helmet. Hence the name: Whistler. But I digress...

As I was saying. My bike is amazing...in short distance sprints or on a flat course. I use a very small crankset, which basically means that it takes more strength/power to pedal each revolution of the tire, but the maximum potential for speed is increased. Throw in an extremely hilly course and you begin to see my problem. With the steep incline it takes that much more of my energy to pedal. In the future, I will definitely take the terrain into consideration where my bike setup is concerned. Lacking that option for this race, I improvised.

I played to my strengths. The two flat segments of the course at the beginning and end I just brought down the hammer and cut loose. For the other 88 miles, I kept it in first or second gear on the uphills trying (and failing) to conserve energy, and gained as much momentum and speed as I could on the downhills. When I dismounted from my bike I checked my watch. I finished the 112 miles in 6:35:13. A few minutes slower than I was hoping, but a great time considering the hilly course. 98th position out of 1,000.

Switching out of my bike gear after dropping off Whistler and changing into my run gear took me another 8:33. Another good transition split. Before I go on to discuss the run I have to point out three things that had happened by this point, two of them very significant. The least important first. Remember how I said I didn't have a towel to dry my feet after the swim? Yeah, that's a bad thing. Wet feet create blisters. Especially after biking 112 miles. I had some amazingly painful specimens. So why is this not important? Because I have become so desensitized to that kind of pain that it's like turning off a switch for me. The blisters were causing me pain, so I stopped paying attention and ignored them.

Now, the two critical developments. First, I had an agonizing headache throughout the entire bike leg of the race. I mean constant sharp pain blazing in my skull like a sharp needle piercing the skin. It was brutal. I felt so badly during the bike portion that I was shocked to see my time when I started the run. Fortunately, during the run my headache had subsided to something more manageable that I could ignore. I can only speculate at the source of the headache, but I think it was the water I swallowed from the river. I didn't have the headache when I woke up, and the water was truly filthy. Several people I talked to after the race agreed that the water could have negatively affected me. Of course, it didn't help that I could smell the gasoline in the water for the last half-mile section of the swim.

The last, and most devastating development: bloating. I wish I was kidding. My stomach was bothering me severely by the halfway point on the bike. By that time, I had only consumed 1/2 of a Snicker's Marathon Energy Bar, and three individual servings of GU energy gels. That's about 400 calories. Those calories represented all of the food I ate the entire day of the race. 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run...on 400 calories. I lost 10 pounds.

Which leads me to explain the run. I was setting a great race pace for me by the time I started the marathon. A combined 8 hours for the swim, bike and both transitions. My goal was to run the marathon in just under 3 1/2 hours at an 8-minute pace. The first five miles of the run I finished in 40:11 which was perfect because the first few miles after the bike tend to be slower while your muscles adjust. And then it hit me...hard.

When I started the run I noticed two immediate problems. I had some pretty serious muscle cramping in my right quadriceps. I knew I would be able to run through it though because of all the experience I've had in running with and, more importantly, through, pain. The increased bloating however, I could not ignore. Not only was I unable to eat anything, but now because of all the gas buildup I was having difficulty breathing. Normally when I run I take deep, measured breaths to keep my heart rate controlled, but by the fifth mile I couldn't even take a shallow pant without having sharp pain course through my backs, chest and stomach. It's one thing to deal with muscle pain and quite another if you're unable to breath with each and every step you take.

Whereas I finished the first five miles in just over 40 minutes it took me just under two hours to finish miles six through 10. I was in bad shape. One of the most precarious moments came at the aid station near the seventh mile. Fatigued as I was with no energy I thought to take a few minutes to use the restroom. It was inside the wonderfully fragranced porter-potty that I almost blacked out. My vision blurred for a few seconds and my skin was pebbled with the chills that accompany any day with temperatures in the mid nineties...

Realizing I still had over 18 miles left to run, the degraded condition of my body and the inability to change it I realized how my position was. By the time I reached the 10th mile I tried to alternate between three minute intervals of jogging and walking. This forced march allowed me to cut down the time it was taking me to complete each mile. I wasn't concerned with the race clock or my ability to finish before the cutoff. By this point my competitive race was over. I was still in a race against time though. My body was shutting down, and it was only a matter of time before it made the decision for me.

It was around mile 13 that I saw a woman accompanied by a young boy waiting along the side of the road to cheer for the man who was racing for them. A husband to his wife, a father to his son. A son...who was paralyzed from the neck down and had no control over his motor functions. As soon as I saw him I started running. I became so angry with myself for making excuses and for allowing the pain to overcome me. All of the pain I felt throughout the entire day does not come remotely close to what that boor boy endures every second of his life. So I ran. I ran, and told myself I wasn't going to stop until I finished the race.

Four miles later and I threw up. Twice. I tried to continue after the first time, but when it happened again I lost control of my body. At the next aid station my legs gave out and I had to sit down. People kept asking if I needed help, and each time I politely replied that I was fine, and that I just needed a few minutes to rest. At this point my legs were shaking and tingled from the knees down. Without any calories for my body to burn and the sodium my body needed it was only a matter of time before my body died on me. A very short time.

So I got up and started shambling at a slow walk. I tried to shuffle along at a jog, but stopped when I realized that others were walking faster than I was jogging. With no choice left to me I decided to risk it. At the aid station near the 19th mile I grabbed some pretzel sticks and ate them. I needed the salt more than the calories and figured it was my only chance of keeping myself lucid. I threw up a third time.

Still, my body must have absorbed some of the salts because with just over six miles left I poured everything I had into one final focused effort. I ran the last 6.2 miles at a sub-nine minute pace. I finished the race in just over 13 1/2 hours and despite my poor run split ran nearly 30 minutes faster than the first IronMan I competed in with mono. With an abysmal run time of 5:39:12 I still managed to have a decent race.

Revelation #2: Preparation is key, but on the day of the race do what you can with what you have. I had great splits on the swim and bike, and would have on the run as well if not for something that was beyond my control. I didn't qualify for the Kona World Championship race in Hawaii, but I finished IronMan Kentucky in a respectable time and set a new personal best for myself. When I crossed the finish line, I felt every inch the winner I had set out to be when I set my mind on competing. I never gave up, and I never will. The letters 'D.N.F.' will never appear next to my name in a race.

Overall, I had an amazing experience. The race was tremendous fun. The course was beautiful and the city hospitable. The people I met were friendly and my life is enriched to have encountered them in my life. It's all a matter of perspective really, and I wouldn't trade my experience for anything in the world.

Taking the Next Step...Whatever it Takes

Originally written on Saturday, May 31, 2008 at 10:17pm

A couple of notes before I begin: The following is a complete transcription from the digital recorder I took with me along the 100 mile Keys Ultra marathon run. Throughout the 27 hour run I managed to record an entire hour’s worth of material. For the reader’s sake and my own compulsive behavior with proper writing I’ve tried my best to clean up the grammatical errors, slang, etc.

Each paragraph below represents a separate recording from a different stage in the race. After each recording I have added my own commentary to either better explain the situation surrounding the recording or to express my thoughts and feelings about the recording after having had time to reflect on the race in its entirety.

Alright so it's 6:26 in the morning. I just finished running about the first, oh I don't know, four miles or so, give or take. I just met a couple guys named Mohammad and Alan. Very cool people. Alan just stopped by with his support crew, and [laugh], I don't see mine for another, oh I don't know, three hours. Anyways, I’m having a great time so far. My hamstrings have been bothering me for the past couple weeks, but whatever. It’s not like that’s going to stop me. We'll see how it goes. Note how my voice will change from upbeat and peppy, to giddy/ecstatic, to oh dear God why, but I'll let you know how it goes.

Okay, first reflection. I decided to run this race nearly at the last minute. I officially registered six days before race day, and had some difficulties putting together a support crew. Still, I had a plan and I knew how I expected the race to play out so I had some idea as to what I was getting myself into. It’s funny how for the first 2 ½ hours or so I was worried about the tightness in my hamstrings and by 4 hours into the race my hamstrings never bothered me again.


Alright. Now we've gone 49 and ½ minutes [6:50 a.m.] and about 30 feet back there was a real strong smell of maple syrup. So I would just like to give a big 'screw you' to whomever the hell is eating something with maple syrup at 7 in the morning. Hmm, I have no idea what mile marker I'm at. Anyways, it’s another two hours until I get my support crew. The sun's coming up. I’m still wearing my vest...which I didn't need; still holding my light...which I didn't need, and holding the water bottle...which...I need, but wish I didn't have to hold.

Nearly an hour into the race and I was still feeling very fresh and excited about participating in such an amazing feat. According to my whole plan when I first started toying with the idea of running marathons and the rest I never dreamed of running one-hundred miles consecutively. It’s still shocking for me to think that in less than sixteen months I progressed from not being able to finish 26.2 miles in Gainesville in February 2007 to finishing male runner-up in a 100 mile race from Key Largo to Key West in May 2008.

So it's about one hour and fifteen minutes into the race [7:15 a.m.], and I just spent the last half hour or so running with the same woman who is part of the 'Heat Strokes' team. She just tagged off to her partner who's leaving me in the dust. Eh, I'm debating on picking up my pace to keep up wit her, but my pride...well no my pride is that big but, we'll see. Other than that I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve got a nice pace going and the weather is beautiful. An hour...no...a little under two hours before I see my support crew and God will I be happy to see them. I just kind of want to talk...so I guess I will: For a little while, anyways. Although, I don't know what I want to talk about, which is kind of odd. Do you ever get that feeling that you want to just talk with someone? Well, I get that all the time. Fortunately, I can always talk to myself. There will be plenty of that later however. I'll save my delusional ranting for you until then.

Something I absolutely love to do when I travel or race is meet new people. I have met some very incredible and unique individuals throughout my brief racing career. This race was no exception. From Bob and Jared, the two race directors, to Jimmy, Peter, Dante and Alan who include some of the racers and support crew I met during the race, it was an absolute pleasure having the opportunity to interact with each and every one of them. On another note, in hindsight I am really glad I decided to take a digital recorder with me to the race. Not only can I use it to learn from my experiences throughout the race to better prepare me for the future, but now I will always have another way of remembering my experiences that day.

Alright, one hour and forty minutes in, so it's almost 8 a.m. I’m taking it nice and slow and feeling pretty good. I was pacing with another one of the groups, a runner from the Marathon High relay team. Unfortunately she wasn’t very talkative as she was putting a lot of effort into maintaining her pace Hmm, need…to go…to the bathroom. Not…a good…thing. Well, I’m sure I’ll find something coming up in a little while; sooner or later. A little over one hour before my support group gets here and I cannot wait to take off this reflective vest which I haven’t needed since about three seconds into the race and the flashlight which I didn’t need at all, and all that good stuff. Oh and I really could use, oh, I don’t know something like…Gatorade. Yeah…I remember what that tasted like. That would be nice: Gatorade. Drinking the Pedialyte is not going to be fun but I think I will need it a little earlier than I thought if this heat continues to pick up. Other than that it’s been pretty boring so far. I mean, not boring in a bad way, boring in a good way. As in, no sprained bones, no getting hit by a car, you know, the bad stuff that might happen. Anyways, I’ll let you know when I find my miracle bathroom.

The first 2 ½ hours of the race were pretty interesting. I was the only runner out there by myself. I had no support crew and it was pretty amusing to me running with a reflector vest and a flashlight in my hand with the morning sun clearly above the horizon. I know a few runners thought I was either insane to be running the race completely solo or just stupid to have my support crew there and not link up with them. Neither was the case, of course, but they couldn’t know that. I did regret not having someone there from the beginning though. The extra fluids and electrolytes early on definitely would have helped over the course of the day.

Alright so now it’s about 8:20 a.m. My dad just came by about 2-3 minutes ago and lightened my burden. I dropped off my flashlight, the extra sun block, the light jacket and a few other items It was really nice and definitely appreciated. It’s funny because I stopped to use the bathroom at a gas station, and I drank an entire Arizona Herbal iced tea. I just didn’t want the Gatorade yet. And the tea was nice with a little bit of sugar. I like the taste. It was alright. It was stress relief. Come on…it doesn’t get any better than that. The tea coupled with less weight to carry, in more than one way, definitely gave me my first adrenaline boost of the day. I’m very appreciative of that; thank you adrenaline. Other than that I saw a lot of runners go by as I used the restroom and now I’m just enjoying the breeze. It’s still very nice weather; obviously no where near the heat of the day yet. Maybe we’ll get to see a little bit of that around noon. Hopefully it won’t be too bad. I’ll keep you updated. It looks like I may have found my race pacer since I don’t have one with me. I think I found one in this runner, who’s about seven meters in front of me so I have to talk low. His name is Mohammad; from North Carolina. Seems like a nice guy. A little quiet, but I don’t really care about that. I just care about running next to him.

A lot of running is mental. Actually I think I need to be more specific. A lot of distance running is mental. I can hop on a track and run a 5-minute mile but then it’s over and done with. It’s all the physical condition my body is in. Of course, there is a lot of mental preparation involved prior to the run, but it’s over in the blink of an eye. With distance running you have all the time in the world to just think. I find it very interesting that I can spend two or three hours running without a single thought crossing my mind and at the same time I can run for that same amount of time and my mind is racing faster than my body is. It all depends. It has to do with distraction. If I have someone running next to me I can literally run on autopilot and stop thinking completely about my surroundings, pace, pain, etc. It all fades away because someone else is focusing on all of that for me. That’s why racers are allowed pacers in these kinds of events. Aside from a brief 15 mile interlude between miles 35 and 50 I didn’t have that luxury.

So I’m just reaching the apex of my first bridge, and the water is gorgeous,. Such a beautiful breeze. I don’t know it’s just amazing, it’s a beautiful view. The water looks so freaking inviting. I just hope the weather stays like this. I mean it is absolutely stunning, but it’s about 8:30 right now; in the morning. [amused laugh] So, I should be seeing my support crew again in the next half hour or so. Hopefully won’t be seeing my next bridge for the next ten hours or so, but I know that’s not true.

The only comment I’ll make here is that the weather did indeed become brutal. For several hours of the day I was running in 95 degree heat, and that’s not including the humidity factor. Counting that, the heat was well above 100 degrees out there. The only reprieve from that was the breeze that came in from the water. The numerous bridges were a catch-22. On the one hand they could have steep inclines and I couldn’t stop on them to receive aid from my support crew, but on the other the breeze definitely made the run more bearable at times.

On my second Bridge. The water is still beautiful even though the sun’s coming up. I’m feeling good but I’m definitely tired. My legs, you know. I can’t imagine why though. I should be seeing my support crew up here at the end of the bridge. They should be, but, I’ll have to find them. I’m three hours in so it’s about 9:00 a.m. and about 18 miles done. So we’ll see how it goes from here.

At this point I made my first mistake. I should have consumed my first calories of the day here, but I was worried about upsetting my stomach early on and put it off for a while. For approximately two weeks before the race I was trying to gain some extra weight to have as a reserve for the race. My average weight on a week to week basis hovers around 188 lbs. Every morning when I wake up I get on my scale to see where I’m at. I’m not trying to gain or lose weight per se, but I am trying to monitor it to see if my training and diet are regulated correctly. Depending on my workouts in a given day my body weight can swing five pounds easily. The day before the race I weighed myself at 192 lbs. That meant I was carrying an extra four pounds of stored energy and I’m very glad I did.

I just passed the 20 mile marker at 3 ½ hours so it is 9:30 a.m. Starting at mile 12 I had my support crew come visit me, and it’s going to be the 4th pit stop at mile 21. So that’s four stops in nine miles. That’s not too bad. That’s pretty good actually. The weather’s still amazing with a good breeze. I’m feeling amazing; except for my legs…again. They’re a little tight, a little sore. I really shouldn’t have gone running those six miles at sub-6:30 pace at Nike town on Tuesday. I mean, it was a good idea at the time. I did run sub 6:30 pace and prove that I was still an Alfa male. You know, like I said earlier my pride really is that big, but I don’t know if it’s still such a good idea today. I’ll let you know in another sixty miles. Let’s see…anything else. I’ve been drinking a lot, and I’m a little worried because I’m not feeling bloated but I am feeling full. I’ve still got that God-darn cotton mouth feeling like I did during the 50 mile run. I think I’m going to start swishing out water and not swallowing it just to start moistening my throat and mouth. Hmm, I didn’t eat. I forgot to eat at the last pit stop. I need to get a banana at the first checkpoint at mile 25. I may have my first bag of trail mix, I think. We’ll see how my stomach’s feeling.

They say that pride goes before a fall. My pride in my running is a matter of perspective. I see it as an unwavering confidence that I can achieve any goal I set myself to. Others, including many of my friends and family, see it as a form of hubris. The only difference between pride and hubris is whether or not the expression is internalized or visibly discernible to others. My pride in myself and my abilities are tightly held within me, in the deepest corners of my heart and mind. Yet the deeds I perform based on that pride are visible to all and are therefore judged by others according to their standards and points of view. I will not waste my time defending myself or my actions, especially after the fact. If a man tells you he will do the impossible then that man is obviously crazy. If that man performs the impossible then that man is a pioneer, a genius, a hero. How fickle our beliefs are. My actions speak louder than any words I could say or write.

I’m on my fifth bridge; I think. I lost count but it doesn’t really matter. I just wanted to throw a big shout out to the relay team ‘Keys of Asylum’ for offering me something to drink. I didn’t really need it but, it was very nice of them to offer anyways. I’ve got about four miles to the first checkpoint. I kept forgetting to eat something so I had a little piece of my emergency bar; with no water to wash it down of course. So that wasn’t too good but at the same time I’m al little over filled with liquid right now. So I need to make sure I monitor that and be careful with it. Everything else is going great. The one thing I might need to do is reapply my sunscreen around mile 35. This spf 60 stuff is great, but I’m sure it’s going to wear off by then. Let’s see what time is it; about 10:00 a.m. So, doing well. I think.

One of the things I was very worried about throughout the race was sun exposure and over heating. 18 months ago I looked like Caspar the friendly ghost. Now I have a permanent tan and have to be careful my sun-darkened skin doesn’t absorb too much heat. Fortunately, the only aspect of the race that went exactly according to plan was that the sunscreen I applied before the race and again in the middle of the day kept me completely protected from sunburn. Everywhere except for the top of my head at least. I wore a visor throughout the day to provide shade for my face but to keep the top of my head exposed. This way I could avoid the heat becoming trapped in a hat and continuously cool off by pouring water over the top of the visor. It pretty much worked. The only problem was apparently a pretty bad sunburn on the top of my head, which is something I had not thought of.

So I’m tired as hell. I finally got some food in me which is good. Half of a Snicker’s marathon bar. I don’t really like peanut butter but, you know, sometimes you have to eat stuff, and I also had a banana which is good. Poured some water over my head; drank a little bit of water; drank a little bit of Gatorade; so I’m feeling okay. Just have to make sure I take it easy for my stomach now. Yeah, other than the heat though its just a matter of time. So as long as I can make it to 5pm I should be straight I think. That being said, I [extended pause] really hate negativity and let’s just leave it at that. But yeah so anyways everything is going really well and I’m thinking once I reach the checkpoint I’ll probably take a five minute break there just to stretch out my muscles and make sure I’m not getting cramped up in this heat. Then I really need to find someone to run with; that’s my biggest concern now. If I have a pacer it’s just so much easier running, or even walking next to someone else. I mean if you’re running by yourself the task is a lot more daunting; you notice a lot more. I should be coming up on the checkpoint in a little bit. It is currently 10:30 a.m. so 4 ½ hours in. This is about when I wanted to reach the checkpoint. I’m about a half-mile away. Not too bad. I want to make it to mile 50 by 10 ½ hours. So I technically have 6 hours from now. I think I should make it. So that should be about 4:30 p.m. By that point I’ll have faced the hardest part of the day, the brunt of the day. Oh, there’s a runner; hello. I’m going to go tag along. So yeah 4:30 p.m. is my goal for the 50 mile.

I don’t really expect most people to understand some of the things I say or do. How could they? I don’t hold their views against them, but is it really so difficult to ask for the same kindness in return? I don’t want to live an ordinary life. I don’t want to live a safe life. I want to live on the edge. I want to do the impossible. “What people call impossible, is just stuff they haven’t seen yet.” – Robin Williams. Well, open your eyes and see. I will succeed, and if for some reason I should fall before the end I will have laid the foundations for those who follow after me. So lend a hand or get out of my way. I have no room for negativity in my life.

Checked in at mile 25, the first checkpoint; 4 hours and 51 minutes. It’s a little after 11:05 a.m. right now. I’m making my way to the next checkpoint. That will be mile marker 50, or something like that., and that will be 50 miles done. After that, the real start the race starts. I mean it really is just a 50 mile warm up; a very long, arduous, hot, painful 50 mile warm-up. I poured almost entire bottle of water into or onto me so that was really great. I’m feeling refreshed; feeling good. Had a watermelon slice, which was phenomenal. I guess I need to start using watermelon slices in my long runs. I mean it’s so bland and, and lightly sweet; it’s just great. My hamstrings and calves are killing me, so it definitely was not a good idea to have done all that running earlier in the week. There’s no point in complaining about it now. I just have to take the next step. Put one foot in front of the other. Right now I’m using a 6/2 minute interval.. Run six minutes; walk two minutes. Hopefully that’ll help me get through this hottest part of the day, and then when the sun goes down I can start picking it up again.

I knew this race was all about the second half. I had run 50 miles with a sprained foot and torn ligaments two months prior and had no doubts about making it that far. My real concern was that I had no idea what condition my body would be in for the last 50 miles. The watermelon was really a pleasant surprise. For some reason I had never thought to use it as part of my race food. It is packed with water, has some natural sugars and is easily digested by the body; a great discovery. As for the pain in my legs I failed to mention that I went out at night with friends that entire week. For some strange reason I decided to go out every night of the week to see if it was worth it to go out certain nights. It’s not. The experience was not a waste, because I had fun every night I went out. It just wasn’t worth it to me. I don’t really like to go out at night and stay up to daybreak any more. I’m a different animal now. Plus, I’m sure I can justify the sleep deprivation as part of my training to run 27 hours straight. ;)

Alright I’ve run 29 miles, and I’m at mile marker 72. I just experienced my second acid reflux. This time it was…[pondering the taste]banana and watermelon. That’s much better tasting than the first time, which was roast beef and potato rolls from last night. So I’m bloated, which is really bad. At least I’m not menstruating. Still, with the bloating I don’t know if Id be able to absorb any calories if I tried. I hope it goes away because otherwise I’m screwed! The good news is, the calories I did take in helped to get rid of all the discomfort in my calves and hamstrings. So it’s six up and half-dozen down I guess. I’ve got a pit stop coming up. I’ll try to get some water all over me just to keep myself cool. I don’t know about drinking that much though I don’t think I can. There’s a very ominous looking bridge ahead. It looks disgustingly high, and this will be like the 426th bridge I’ve crossed. Not looking forward to it.

I can only imagine how much more difficult it must be for women to do these kinds of activities at certain times. It’s very impressive, to say the least. I was pretty comfortable around this point. 30 miles is long enough that my body has adjusted itself to do what I need it to but not long enough that I’m actually putting a real strain on it. I’m not trying to boast here. In my honest opinion the day-to-day rigors of training and commitment usually far outweigh the demands of an actual race. That’s how I felt during the IronMan. Yes, it was 140.6 miles of swimming, biking and running. Yes, it took me almost 14 hours to complete. Compare that mileage and time to the countless hundreds of miles and hours of training I put in to reach that level of fitness. So it is with my running. I know my body extremely well and trust it implicitly.

Six hours and twenty-three minutes in [12:23 p.m.]; mile marker 68. I’m tired as hell; it’s hot as hell. I’ve got blisters on my toes; cramps in my body. At least I’m not sunburned, which is a good thing. I definitely used enough sunscreen, and just reapplied it. So that’s been good. The bloating is tolerable. Not too bad. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve got a pit stop every two miles until this cursed sun goes down. Next one I’m going to have to pop this blister; see if I can get something around it. And, unfortunately all I’ve been drinking is some nasty, well, it was delicious in the beginning but all I’ve been drinking is purple rain Gatorade; which I love but you have enough bottles of it and you start to get sick of anything. Im desperately craving some Pedialyte, Acai juice, or some other Gatorade. Hmm, thought there was something else. Well, whatever. I might, I even want a flat sprite; ice cold, but flat with no carbonation. That would be amazing right now. Anyways so I’ve got all that coming in about four hours. Hah! Hopefully I can take care of that blister. Hopefully the sun will go down soon, which it won’t, but you know, whatever. I’ve got to hold off and see if I can get through to the halfway point coming up in…oh there’s mile marker…69. Thought it was 68. Whatever; so about…19 miles…left to the checkpoint, and after that my brother should be coming up soon. Then he can give me the Camelbak with all the good stuff leading up to the seven mile bridge.

At this point in the race the sun was blazing overhead; 95 degrees plus the humidity with no shade whatsoever and the hot pavement acting as a furnace. Really the only complaint I had at this point was that I was sick of purple rain Gatorade. When planning for my support crew I really was scrambling at the last minute. My brother and I had gone shopping for everything I thought I needed, which was good because I ended up needing it. While my dad was helping for part of the first half of the race all he and my mom had packed was water and that one flavor of Gatorade for drinks. I was also really starting to feel the heat of the day. You can look at some of the pictures from the race and you’ll notice how completely dry I look. I lost count of how many bottles of water I literally upended over my head. It was so hot that any and all liquid evaporated within minutes.

Leyton…I thought this place smelled bad…on the outside! Uh…oh…at least they have a food store. I’m really hoping they have an ice cold Sprite that I can de-carbonate and drink; or some more of that herbal stress tea. Or anything that’s cold…so long as it’s not water, or purple rain Gatorade.

I didn’t really go into too many crazy movie tangents or random stories during the race, which surprised me. I usually let my imagination run wild during these events. For those of you who don’t catch the quip it is a line Harrison Ford uses in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. As I was entering the town of Leyton I don’t know where it was coming from but there was a potent smell and it definitely wasn’t pleasant. Oh! Also when I entered Leyton there was this middle-aged man just sitting in a chair under some shade and he called out to me to run faster…seriously! I told him he should switch places with me and he can run the last 65-odd miles for me. That wiped the grin off his face.

I found a Sprite! Obviously didn’t wait until it de-carbonated and I just finished the bottle in about five seconds. It’s about 12:41 p.m. now. I figure I’ll walk another five minutes or so to try and get rid of the carbonation bubbles. Hopefully at the next pit stop I’ll get a little water, and then head down to the next bridge.

I never drink soda in my daily diet any more. I usually never drink soda when training or racing. That said, when the temperature is extremely hot or I can tell that my blood sugar is a little low (or both) I’ll try and drink some very cold Sprite, preferably flat if I can get it. The high concentration of sugar sends a jolt to my body and it usually helps to get me back into things for a bit.

Okay I know I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while. It is currently 8 hours in, which means…8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 1, 2. It’s 2p.m. in the afternoon. The sun is broiling…I don’t really care. And I told you this is the giddy/ecstatic phase because I found my pacer. Now before anyone starts making…I’m getting closer so I have to be quiet. Before anyone starts making any Brokeback Mountain gay cowboy jokes, let me explain. Yes, it’s a guy; obviously. There are very few women running this race. Anyways, his name is Dante and he’s a great guy. I know, I know. Still, he’s a great phenomenal guy. He’s running a little bit slower than I do, but you know what? It’s just been a distraction talking to him, finding out about his life; sharing my life, the whole thing. He’s a teacher in Ft. Myers believe it or not. He’s been running for a while. So anyways, we’ve just finished running a two mile bridge in the middle of this dead heat. I figure it’s about another 14 miles to go before we get to the half way point. So I’ll check in later.

For those who don’t get the monologue I am basically pretending to defend myself from the inevitable jokes from some of my friends and others who thought it very funny regarding the circumstances of my 50 mile Ultramarathon in Brooksville. After spraining my ankle around mile 5 I spent the rest of the race running with this guy who basically became my race partner. Throughout the race we helped each other get through the toughest parts of the race and we shared a lot of personal information about our lives to each other. I took a lot of heat for it with my friends, making some crude jokes, etc. That’s basically what this was about. Also, at this point I was really happy because finding someone to run the race with was very important to me and I honestly started enjoying the race more having someone to share the experience with and talk to.

Okay so I’m still running with Dante. The poor guy is like…swaying. He’s definitely suffering from heat exposure. I don’t know if he’s going to make it; no matter what though I’m going to stick with him. Let’s see I’m at mile marker 62. So I’m going to try and stick with him for the next 12 miles and when my brother comes by I’m going to switch on the Camelbak, run that freaking insane 7 mile bridge, and then take off on my own pace, By then the heat should be gone, the sun should be down, or down enough, and I can get ready for the last 40 miles of the race. What else…oh I just went to the bathroom next to a concrete pillar and I honestly think that my urine melted the concrete. That’s how acidic and how powerful my urine is…so just back up, alright? Watch out. Seriously; like not playing. Anyways…moving on from the psychotic ramblings and ranting, it’s still a gorgeous day. Honestly, the wind is a blessing I don’t care what anyone says about it slowing you down and the headwinds, etc. Itt’s cold. That’s all that matters. Or cool, rather. Speaking of cold I could use a cold drink but I’ve got to wait a mile or so. Next year if I end up doing this race again I’m definitely going to try and get a support crew to run with me. Dante’s support crew was assigned to him from the race directors and he has a couple of volunteers that are phenomenal: Jim and Peter. That’s the problem when you sign up for the race so late, but thanks to my dad and my brother at least everything’s been going pretty well with that.

This was by far the easiest part of the race. Having someone to run next to and talk with made the hottest part of the day into something that I could easily manage. The only things I really had to worry about were maintaining good levels of hydration and staying cool under the blistering sun.

It’s currently 2:15p.m., which means I’ve been running for eight hours and 15 minutes and I’m still feeling good. My legs are hurting but the endorphins have sort of taken over. So it’s more like the awareness of pain but you don’t actually have the sensation of pain. Aside from that, I don’t think there are any more surprises like…extremely long bridges or anything until the halfway point which is at mile marker 50…in 12 miles. I’ll see my dad at the end of this bridge with some cool drinks at mile marker 61. Hmm, I’m hot. Let’s see, I think that’s everything. Tired…yeah I’m tired. I’m hungry…but not really, because my body knows that it’s running and that I have to run, and because of that plus the fact that I’m still extremely bloated, means that I don’t really want to eat even though I do want to eat. Oh! I’ve got this huge blister on my left toe; the pinky toe. Huge; as in I can feel it there in my shoe. It’s just gushy, really gushy. It hasn’t popped, but…oh got to start running and catch up to Dante. He’s done with his crew, but…oh yeah that’d be great actually! Thank you. Watermelon is the greatest discovery of this trip, by far. Let me just grab one more. Thank you so much. I’m chewing watermelon while I talk so just bare with me; yummy, yummy, yummy….delish. It’s like…watery…and sweet; and chewy. There’s a word…there’s a word I’m looking for. I don’t know what it is. It would describe this perfectly. Oh! Good. There it is. Good. It’s good. Alright…I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.

This was probably the hottest part of the day. My body was doing well, considering. I was still decently hydrated, but no matter how much I tried to stay cool any water I poured over my head or onto my clothes evaporated within three to five minutes. I can’t overstate just how hot the weather was throughout the day. I also think that I made another critical error here. I needed more fuel. Between two and four-thirty in the afternoon I barely had anything to eat besides a few slices of watermelon and cantaloupe. Especially considering this was the hottest part of the day I should have had something more. Yet at the same time I was bloated throughout much of the race and it was always delicate balancing just how much I could consume at a given time. After all, this was really an experiment for me. More than anything else I’ve gained considerable knowledge on just how far my body can go with limited amounts of liquids and calories.

I haven’t seen my support crew in five miles. I’m dehydrated, depleted, cramped. I have no energy; nothing. When I ask to see if I can get a pit stop to get something to drink and eat, the response from the man is he’ll get lost looking for me, but I should find him soon. Anyways, just wanted to vent a little bit of my frustration, and make sure I got that down. Everything was great up until I’m running in this 95 degree weather with no water, no electrolytes, no food. I haven’t had a calorie in, oh I don’t know, two hours maybe; maybe three I’m at mile marker 55-ish. Which is great….just great So…at least my brother’s on his way. He should be here soon, and then I can get all the goodies that I bought and all the good stuff. We’ll have to just wait and see what happens.

This was definitely one of the biggest problems of the race for me. There was a good stretch of the course that was on a trail just off of US-1, and unfortunately my support crew ran into some trouble finding me. Not only did this happen during one of the hottest parts of the day, but the trail itself acted as a conduit for the heat. It was stifling. Within the space of a few miles I had gone from a comfortable pace and a positive feeling to a complete physical and mental breakdown. This was especially concerning for me as I had not even reached the halfway point yet.

Well, look at that; he found me. So, anyways, basically all I have to do now is get rid of thse muscle cramps, get rehydrated, get all of this…fun stuff…taken care of, and try to get myself back into this race. I would just like to thank Dante, and his support crew, Jimmy and Peter, because without them I probably would have been forced to drop out of the race by now; just throwing that out there. So…big…big shout out to them and let them know that I really appreciate them for everything they did. I can’t run; my legs are completely shot. I’m at mile marker 54…and 1/2…ish, maybe 55. Give or take. Uh, I can’t…I can’t run, at all. My legs are completely shot. There’s no strength in them whatsoever. I have no calories to burn, and I’m in desperate need of some electrolytes. There’s very little water in me to help with hydration and circulation, and there’s no water on me to help cool me down.

The transcription pretty much says it all. I was in very bad shape at this point in the race and am extremely grateful beyond words for the help Dante and his support crew gave me during this stretch. I could barely walk in a straight line and was feeling pretty light headed here. I remember starting to feel the effects of the heat and feeling somewhat helpless in the situation.

Okay, I was really over-heated but I just poured a half bottle of water over my body so it’s a little bit better. Of course, the water has already evaporated. Had some water melon slices thanks to Jimmy and Peter, and I took some Endurolytes. I can’t take care of the calories until my brother gets here but hopefully…but I mean I’m feeling better at least; the upper half of my body anyways. Hopefully he’ll be here soon because I’ve still got, oh you know, 54 miles to run and I’ve…this is where I wanted to be at. I’m sorry it’s 4:30 p.m.…and it’s 10 ½ hours into the race. This is when I wanted to be at the 50 mile check-in and I’m not. (inhale) so I’m four miles short of that. (exhale) four and a half maybe five whatever it is. So it looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Before I started the race I had mapped out checkpoints for myself. I always set a number of goals for myself and try to stick by them as best I can. These goals are multi-leveled beginning with the basic outline of what it is I am trying to do and I build from there. For instance, for this race my basic goal was to finish. There was a 30 hour cutoff for the Keys 100 Ultra, so my basic goal was to finish in 29 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds. Then I set myself a personal or target goal. The first Ultra marathon I ever read about was the Western States 100. I remember thinking about trying to do something on such a grand scale in under 24 hours. That was my personal goal. I wanted to finish the race in less than 24 hours, which didn’t happen. I understand every course and every race is different, but I still like to set an actual time goal for myself. I remember racing in an open water sprint triathlon and looking at the race clock as I came out of the ocean. My time was significantly slower than I expected considering the condition I was in. Despite posting a good time on the bike split and a great run time I felt that the race had gone poorly for me. Of course, I forgot to take into account how those same conditions that affected me would also affect the other athletes. I ended up winning my division. That race taught me to continue setting high expectations for myself, but to be flexible with the course. I’ve run races in blistering heat and frigid cold, with clear skies and pouring rain. Each race is different, and each athlete faces the same difficulties you do. It’s just a matter of how you choose to face those adverse conditions.

Welcome to the rebirth. I just had about three and a half spoonfuls of Nutella: an extremely fattening but oh so good source of energy, and a pediatric drink for babies. I’m back. Let’s get to it.

This was recorded right after my brother found me. I was very happy to see him. Before the Keys 100 the longest run I had ever been on was a 50 mile trail run in Brooksville, Florida. The weather that day was absolutely perfect. I ended up tearing two of the ligaments in my left foot on mile 5 and finished the last 45 miles with a lot of pain and severely overcompensating with my right leg. Going into the 100 miler I knew I would be able to finish 50 miles, and I knew that my brother couldn’t support me for the entire race by himself. My plan was to have him and all of the goods we had purchased available to me for the latter half of the race, and I’m glad he was. After seeing him, I quickly regained a lot of my swagger and confidence. (Not to mention the energy and calories that I needed!)

I just got out of the first pit stop with my brother, and I’m flying. I’m running about a 10- minute pace right now. I’m on set. I’m about an hour behind schedule, and two miles behind schedule, but I should be able to make it back to where I want to be. I caught back up to Dante for a minute before I saw Mike and had to stop again. I lanced this huge blister on my left pinky toe. I mean it was twice the size of my toe. I tried to dry it off as much as I could ,but Mike’s going to pick up some foot powder for me. I grabbed a new pair of socks. I feel nice and fluffy. I re-laced my shoes, downed an Accelerade and got a bottle of water here for the heat. The only real problem is…because of…things…I previously mentioned…I had to down that Nutella and Pedialyte earlier than I expected. I’ve got huge gas bubbles in the back of my chest and lungs. (burp)So I don’t know if you heard that but there was one of those bubbles. Anyways, that’s going to take me back a bit whenever it decides to mess with my digestive system, but hopefully I’ll be able to get past the halfway point (burp) there was another one…in time to catch up with my pacer. Then it’s on to the seven mile bridge. The cramps are gone, I’m alert. And I’m ready to go.

In hindsight I think the jar of Nutella I consumed during the race was my salvation. My body has never reacted well to any gels, such as Gu, Accel gel, Clif or Power Gel. I’ve always preferred consuming real food while cycling, but it’s a little different when trying to eat on the run. My attempt to have some trail mix ended badly, but the bananas and watermelon worked pretty well. Within the space of 15 minutes my entire situation had reversed. I was exhausted and defeated, and then just like that it was as if I had been reborn with a new sense of vitality and purpose. The race was not half-way over…it was just about to begin.

So why they would put the check in on the other side of the street going in the wrong direction makes no sense to me. You know…so I…well, actually it does make sense to me. It’s because someone WANTED me to run an extra two and-a-half miles. So I’m not running 100 miles. I’m running closer to 103 miles. So yeah it’s great. Of course when I get to the check in I don’t even know it. No one is there and I don’t see it. Thankfully, one of the support crews pulled me over and was just like ‘Hey you missed the check in’. I thought they were pulling a joke on me! No. I KNEW they were playing a joke on me. No one would be that cruel. Apparently the people at the check-in didn’t see me across the street, but you know they’ve had a hard day. They’ve…they’ve been sitting for hours. I can’t personally off the top of my head think of anything that might be more difficult than SITTING for five or six hours; nothing at all. No…there’s no bitterness, there’s no bitterness; none at all. (Bitter tone) No, it just means I’m running four marathons as opposed to 100 miles. (Sigh) Close enough.

I was admittedly a little frustrated here. Shortly after my recovery from the lack of water and supplies I was feeling great and just like that my situation was reversed again. It was definitely an emotional roller coaster. Imagine having run 52 miles and having to turn around to run another couple of miles in the wrong direction. It was psychologically devastating to me. Not only that, but two runners I had passed after my recovery crossed me again as I was running in the wrong direction. It was definitely hard on me. Thank God that gentleman was kind enough to flag me down and let me know. I honestly don’t know what would have happened had I run an extra four miles to the seven mile bridge and only then realizing I had missed the halfway checkpoint. The problem was that I was completely focused on taking that next step. The rest of the world was oblivious to me, and I didn’t even think to stop or look across the street to check for the waypoint. Well, all is well that ends well, but I definitely was not in the same frame of mind when I experienced it.

I’m finally on…the seven mile bridge. It’s 7:10p.m. I won’t be seeing anyone from my support crew, which is my brother, for the next two hours or so. After that there’ll be 40 miles left in the race. I’m feeling great other than the fact that my legs are destroyed; absolutely, and completely. They wouldn’t be like that had it not been for that five mile breakdown with my supplies earlier. There’s nothing I can do about that now so I’m going to try and take this seven mile bridge as easily as possible. I’ve got a change of clothes waiting for me on the other side for my night gear, and after that it’ll just be a matter of time (sigh) I’m going to finish. No doubt about that. It’s just a matter of how long it takes me to get in there. So…my whole plan of doing a sub-24 hour run my first time is not going to happen. Probably because of the fact that I ran the first 12 miles without support and I ran five miles in the middle of the heat without water or anything and I ran an extra two and a half miles to go back to the checkpoint that put someone who I was about to pass at least 25 minutes ahead of me. Despite that, technically, it looks like I’m in 8th place. Not too bad a showing. Could have been 6th or 5th, but whatever, I don’t really care about the placing. I just care about finishing. And that’s what I’m going to do.

As I made my approach to the seven mile bridge I was feeling slightly fatigued. I realized that I only had 47 miles left. I’m just sitting here and thinking about that: only 47 miles left. Running 47 miles would be a significant enough accomplishment on its own and I had already run more than that throughout the day. At the start of the bridge, despite how tired I felt I was confident that it was only a matter of time before I finished. I had no idea how much the next seven miles would test the depths of my commitment and just how far I was willing to go in order to achieve my goals.

So, let’s see, I’ve got another 3 minutes and 15 seconds of relax time. I might as well use them to talk. Well, the good thing is is that unlike before with the 5 mile stretch I’m definitely prepared for these next 7 miles without support. I’ve got a Camelbak filled with two liters of ice water, and my walkie talkie to have a chat with my brother whenever I get done with this in case I get bored. I took another hit of Pedialyte and Nutella right before I loaded up for the bridge. I need, I need the calories and even though I’m bloated I just need the calories. I’ve also got my headlamp on, got my night vest on…this time I will need it because the sun is setting in about half an hour. And that’s about it I’m just, I’m just…I’m having a great time. I’m just…tired, just tired. Looking forward to being done. So that way I can take a nice hot shower. Or…forget the shower; a nice hot bath. Yeah, a nice hot bath would be nice. I’m going get a massage…I’m going to have a masseuse come to my house. Oh yeah. Yeah. Definitely; that’ll be Monday. After work. If I go to work. I’m not even sure if I’m going to go into work on Monday. I really should. Eh…we’ll see. Depends how I feel. The real problem is that it’s not like I can at least go to sleep. The minute I’m done with the race I’m back in the car and we’re driving back to Miami for my Grandmother’s 80th birthday. It’s a surprise party for her, and I’m not allowed to miss it. Nor would I want to. (Sigh) Technically this whole race is dedicated to her anyways

It’s a good thing my brother and I prepared as much as we did for the last half of the race. Everything came in handy, but nothing more so than the walkie talkies. We were virtually in constant communication with one another, and that was an invaluable resource. My mind was definitely wandering at this point looking for distractions. I may as well talk about this now since I brought it up in the recording. One of the problems that arose when I was considering whether or not to run the race was that there was a scheduling conflict with my grandmother’s 80th birthday party. My mother in particular had been planning it for months and there was a serious concern that if I ran in the race I would not be able to make it to the party. As if I would let that happen. I made her a promise that no matter what happened nothing was going to keep me from making it to the party, and if there is one thing I will always do is keep my promises.

Wait, wait wait; no I’ve got a minute and twenty seconds and I’m not going to splurge. Or, rather I’m not going to cut myself short and I am going to splurge. Let’s see, what else can I say. There’s still a nice breeze. Aside from that, earlier today around 2p.m. is when it became a broiling blistering heat, but that’s also because we were running on that trail I mentioned earlier. It was just like a furnace in Hell that just ensconced all the heat and amplified it. It wasn’t pretty. Okay…(exhale)thirty seconds. Well…I’m probably not going to be on here again for a while, just because I’m not sure if there’s really anything else to say until I get close to the end of the bridge. There’s one more check in, but that’s in…when is it, 15, no 22 miles from now. Fun stuff; and that’s the last check in before the finish. So…you’ll definitely here from me then. Time’s up. Gotta go.

Basically what I was referring to with the amount of time left was a five minute break I gave myself at the beginning of the bridge to walk a bit and stretch out my legs before I started running the length of the entire bridge. There was a particularly steep incline at one point that I could see from the beginning that I was not looking forward to running over.

Alright now this is a secret so you really, really can’t tell anyone. It’s 7:35p.m. I just took…the most AMAZING piss…in the middle of the Key Biscayne…no no no, Key West Bridge, thank you very much (sigh of relief). I was holding it in! I, you know…come on, come on! I didn’t know I had to go! I’m serious! And then all of a sudden I’m on this freaking bridge with no where to go! The way I saw it, I could either jump over the side, pee in there, and find my way back up or I could just…take a…piss…and that’s what I did. No one even noticed…it’s all good. It was very subtle. Very subtle. Yeah…yeah. I think I buy that. (Exhale) (Extended Pause) Are we there yet?

I was slightly delirious and giddy at this point. At the same time I really had no alternative. I was about a mile into the bridge when all of a sudden I had this very urgent need to go to the bathroom. I actually laughed when I realized it because it was six miles to the other end of the bridge and there was no way I was turning around to run a mile in the wrong direction. I held it in for another mile and a half or so before I really had no alternative but to just be discreet. I waited until traffic in both directions died down and I was given a window of opportunity…which I took.

It’s 8:30p.m. I’ve been…running…for 14 ½ hours now. I’ve got a tweak in my left knee, a blister at the bottom of my left foot that’s hampering my running AND walking, a blister on my right pinky toe, and lower back pain. I’m exhausted, having some difficulties with cramps, and muscle knots in my calves and hamstrings. I’m in a bad way right now. Hopefully at mile 40… or mile marker 40 when I meet up with my brother…I can…take some salt tabs and electrolytes and get some of this stuff squared away. We’ll see how it goes. (sigh) If I can maintain a brisk walk I can alternate miles, which would be great, but I’ve got to take care of these blisters first. Other than that it’s just a matter of how much pain I have to tolerate in the race…before reaching the finish line. Which, I don’t even want to guess what the time frame for that is right now. Um…yeah…okay. One step at a time.

There was some serious trouble for me on the bridge. The blister on the bottom of my left foot became too painful to run on after a while and it was bothersome to even walk normally. On top of that my left knee was…tweaked. As I said in the recording there was just something wrong with it. I can’t really think of a better way to describe what was happening with it. Exhaustion and fatigue are one thing, but when your body physically starts to break down you reach a completely new level of pain and despair. At one point the pain was so great that I literally fell on my right knee and lay there panting for a minute. As I lay there huddled on the side of the road in the darkened gray of dusk my mind frantically searched for a solution…something…anything to make the pain go away and pick myself back up off the floor. But there was nothing. There was no logical solution laying there on the floor; there was no reasonable explanation for why I should stand up and continue on with the pain. So I abandoned thoughts of what to do next and I struggled to my feet; and I took the next step. I whimpered in pain, but I was moving forward. That’s all it was. Take the next step. Don’t think. Walk.

Alright…I’m done with the bridge. I popped the blister at the bottom of my foot. It still hurts, but it’s better. I popped the blister on my right foot…still hurts, but it’s better. I changed socks; got some Pedialyte, some Enduralytes, and some more water. I also watered down my feet. Hopefully it’ll numb them a little bit. I’ve got…I’m looking at 9:30p.m. 40…38 miles to go…ish. My feet are better, the knee is still hurting but, I…popped some Advil. I HATE doing that, but you know what…at this point I need it. (Beeping noise)….(sigh) that’s my sign to run, but I’ll wait a second. Let’s see what else is going on. (exhale) I…because of the pain, I broke down at one point and got down on my knees on the bridge, and was…just…crumpled there. Couldn’t really do anything…it hurt so much. But,…you know there was really no choice. I had to get up and just keep going, so that’s what I did, and now, the hardest part is over. (HAH!) That bridge was THE hardest part of the race, considering my, my injuries…like had it, had I not had that damn blister and everything I would have been better, but, um, even still I I gained some time on the guy ahead of me, which is good considering I don’t know how the hell I did it, but, not that I care but it’d be real nice to be running next to someone right now. My brother is fantastic. He doesn’t know it yet but he’s getting a PS3 from me, as an early Christmas gift or whatever the hell he wants to call it because he’s…earned it, a hundred times over. Just, you know making stops for me, getting everything for me just been constantly supportive and positive and it’s just he’s been completely amazing. I could NOT have done it without him at all. And, AND his attitude; without his ATTITUDE I would have been so defeatist and I would have…I don’t even know what I would have done…I would have just…I wouldn’t be in the mood I’m in right now that’s for sure, What else, what else, what else; Nutella: you know it’s a Godsend. It’s pure fat. And that’s exactly what I need on this kind of race. My body digests it quickly. That plus the Pedialyte…wow that guy’s going like a hundred…can I go a hundred? (Ah, wit) Plus everything else has just been sort of really helping me out. My legs are just…completely fatigued but, but they’re moving; they’re moving. And I’m going to make it…in time…for the cutoff, and I’m going to make it in time for my grandma’s surprise party. It’s going to happen. So…thought there was something else. I could have sworn there was something else. Oh! No, no no…you said that. Oh well, if I think of it I’ll tell you. Where’s the…can’t see it. So, oh by the way it’s night time now. It’s about 9:30p.m. so I’ve got my headlamp on and,,…my reflector vest which has a front pocket to keep a few goodies. So now I won’t get hit by a car at night. Hopefully. Annnnd…stop.

I spent about 30 minutes performing maintenance on myself after the seven mile bridge. As you can tell by now, I was in desperate need of it. In addition to my feet, and left knee needing attention I also was able to take in some more calories and electrolytes to try and replenish my body. I also changed my clothes. I figured after 50 miles it would be nice to throw on a new pair of shorts and shirt to give the illusion of feeling fresh. It worked.

Okay. I’m at mile marker 35. I just blew away the last five miles and…I’ve been making really good time, but unfortunately, the blister at the bottom left, of my, of the, of the foot…bottom of my left foot, is raw…completely. And I’m in trouble. I can’t run on the balls of my feet, can’t run normally, can’t run on the heel because it’s impossible. I’m sort of limping along right now…at mile marker 35. I wish I had been later, like even 25 would have been helpful. I only got five good miles in…I feel PHENOMENAL. I feel absolutely phenomenal but I can’t, but I can’t even run. Mike’s going up to a possible drug store about five miles up to see if they have anything, and if not, well…I’m only hoping that maybe…(exhale) I don’t know…I don’t know what I’m going to do. Well I’m going to finish is what I’m going to do, but I don’t know how I’m going to do it like this. Yeah…definitely painful. We’ll have to see. Figure something out. (sigh)Whatever.

This was pretty upsetting to me because right around mile marker 35 I was in a great groove. I was running along at a good clip and had put another five miles away when all of a sudden the popped blister at the bottom of my left foot went from being a large blister drained of pus to a huge blister infected and filled with pus. So while my entire body was ready to log another 10 miles without much difficulty, because of my left foot I was stuck there with a painful limp in my very short stride. Looking back I feel that the last half of the race was as much a test of patience and perseverance as it was of endurance…if not more so.

It’s 10:50p.m. So, it’s almost 11, which means…(extended pause) I’ve been running for about 17 hours now. Well if I do a short hobble...with the most of my weight centered on the heel of the left foot, it’s almost no faster than a walk but I am moving a little bit faster. Of course, the gait is awkward so I’m rolling my hips so I don’t know what that’ll do to me later on. but…maybe with enough time I can start numbing the sensation around my foot. (sigh) Anyways. 35 miles to go. I will check back in later.

Whatever it takes.

Okay…am I on? Yes. Just…I’m ignoring the pain. So, it doesn’t exist. I’m just running through it; not as fast as I was, but, still running. It’s only been about 7 minutes. The one thing I would like to say, and this is, probably the number one…well, two things I’ll say. One: is that to take away from an Ultra marathon…a hundred mile Ultra marathon you without a doubt need a strong supportive…ow…ow…ow, support crew. Ow, ow, ow! Damn it! Without them, you can’t run the race. It’s…just…physically impossible. So, definitely the first thing you need to take care of is the crew. I mean, it’s intensive, it’s demanding. The strategy involved. The plans, the communication prior to the race; you have a slight breakdown in the middle of the day, it can set you back three hours, as with what happened to me today. Second thing I’ll say is…and this is my fault completely. If you FEEL debris in the bottom of your shoe, and I guess that’s the one thing bad about my shoes; (Newton) they’re very light and they have a lot of air vents etc, but I guess at some point early on around mile 15 or so some debris, dust, dirt, rocks, whatever it was, got into the shoe at the bottom under the sock and started rubbing up against the bottom of my foot. So what I’ll say is…take care of your feet; and I normally adhere to that, religiously, but I ignored it here in this case. Mostly because I just didn’t want to stop at the time…and I didn’t think (laughing) it was going be a big deal. Well, I’m paying for it in spades; which is no less than I deserve. Take care of your feet. Make sure that you have dry socks. Make sure you have multiple changes of socks. Make sure that if you…eh you know make sure your laces aren’t too tight or are…are tight enough. Etc. there’s a hundred different thing that go into it. Make sure you’re wearing the proper kind of shoe, etc. etc. But, specifically with regards to what happened to me…make sure you take care of your feet with blisters. Blisters on the toes are one thing. They happen just because, they’re grating against each other. You can wear things for that. Which, I was planning on doing but I couldn’t find anything last night. So I just ignored it. It hasn’t been a factor. But the bottom of my foot; this is the first time…well, this has never happened to me before! Especially, I mean…literally the size of a dollar coin. It’s about two inches in diameter, and twice the size it was five miles ago. That’s not a good sign either. We’ll see, but make sure you take care of your feet. And I’ll let you know what happens.

I’ve gone into this in depth before and here in the recording so the only thing I will say is that I cannot emphasize enough how more than anything else in the entire race this blister had the most significant impact on my performance.

(Exhale) So…the shambling walk thing, slash hobbling run thing, is working to an extent but I feel the blister and pus moving forward and backward on my foot as it’s growing. (Mike on the walkie talkie) Yeah man I got you, do you hear me? (conversation on the walkie talkie) Hold on one second. Whole what? (Mike talking about the hydrogen peroxide, bandaids and Neosporin). Let’s do it. Soon as I get to 32 I’ve got sort of a hobble going on. I have no idea where I am I just crossed a bridge so I’ll be there when I can. (Mike talking about my previous race pacer a mile or so ahead of me) Good man whatever works. How’s he doing? (Mike conversation…me) Are you still recording? You ARE still recording. Hi there! So like I was saying…well the good news is I’m catching up. I passed two people, two people dropped out and I’m catching up to two more. So I’m making my way back up the pack which is good. The bad news is, like I said, my foot is in a BAD shape. And I still got 33 miles to go give or take. So…I don’t know. I don’t know how my foot’s going to be on Monday that’s for sure. It’s going to be pretty nasty. As long as I can take care…actually I don’t know how to treat a blister like that, it’s huge! Well I’ll hydrogen peroxide the hell out of it, Neosporin the hell out of it, Band aid the hell out of it, then wrap it back up the way I have, and then hopefully that’ll solve some of it, but I’m not going to touch it until it becomes unbearable again. That’s what I did at the last stop; it was becoming more painful but I was still running on it. So I took off the bandage and saw it, an d saw there was a new blister and I lanced that one…and that’s when the skin became so raw that it was just…extremely painful to the touch. So I plan on taking care of it, but in due course. Right now I can run on it without too much pain. Well, that I’m aware of. So…it’ll stay like that for a while. Anyways, got to keep running. I will talk to you later.

One of the more humorous recurring themes throughout the race, at least to me, was how something would happen and it would become the most painful or most difficult part of the race. First it was the long stretch without support. Then it was the heat. Next I had to deal without a support crew or supplies for five miles. Then it was the seven mile bridge, the tweak in my left knee, the blister on the bottom of my foot, etc. In the end it was the sheer length and breadth of the course in terms of miles and minutes that sneak up on you. When you get to the point where you have been running for 20+ hours straight you learn a new definition of words like tired, exhaustion, fatigue, deprivation and a whole slew of other words. I guess my point is, tongue in cheek, that no matter how bad you think it is…don’t worry, it gets worse.

Okay, just made a pit stop at mile marker 30. Got some more Pedialyte, got some more Nutella. Mike hydrogen peroxided the hell out of that insanely large blister. It was extremely painful, but hopefully it been disinfected so it won’t too bad. Then he drenched it in Neosporin, covered it in band aids, medicated foot powder, covered it in a pad, and then covered it in brand new dry socks, and I put on my reserve shoes which are a little bit lighter. They’re a little bit used. I mean, by a little bit used I mean like several hundred miles more than they’re supposed to, even though they’re only a few months older than my other pair, but they definitely feel good. The pain in the foot’s gone. Now I’m just sort of…I don’t know…tired maybe after running 70 miles. 71 miles…but I’m getting there. I passed by another person. We think the other person dropped out because we couldn’t find her. I have no idea what that puts me at and I don’t care, but it’s just fun to keep updated on these kinds of things. A good distraction. So, I keep forgetting to drop off the damn towel. We’ve got another pit stop in two miles at 28, pit stop in three miles after that at the last checkpoint, 25, and then it’s basically one more marathon to go. Ha ha! (Pitiful laugh) It’s 12:08a.m. so that pit stop took a little over 8 minutes. (Deep breath) If I can maintain my 12 minute pace we’ll be done by 6:30 (laugh) 24 ½ hours, which isn’t bad considering I was on course for 28 earlier. When things were looking bad; I mean, things aren’t great by any means right now, but they’re definitely working better for me if I can just hold out. It is currently ten minutes after midnight which means I’ve been running for 18 hours and ten minutes. Fun, fun fun.

Once we got the hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin inside the blister it was so much better. The pain faded for the next 15 miles or so and it was such a blessing. The next time I plan on running an Ultra I will definitely take better care of my feet, and I will definitely have some Moleskin and Blister derm patches on hand. That’s basically what I’ve been using on my foot in the week following the race and it makes such a difference. I can only imagine how much they would have helped had I been able to use them during the race.

So I just checked in at the ¾ waypoint 75 miles in at mile marker 25. I’ve got a little under 25 to go. Um, apparently I checked in 3rd. So I’m in 3rd place right now. And, um, apparently the guy who was leading, in 1st place took off way too fast. I was running with him in the beginning (Alan) but apparently he’s got a big problem over by mile 20. Five miles ahead of me so that means anything could happen. I doubt I could catch him anyways (Laugh) I’m not in the best shape right now, but there he is. Then there was the woman I was running with in the beginning with, Lisa, she’s, she’s been, solid. Phenomenal from the beginning, from the get-go. So uh, she’s probably going to win the race. Then there’s one guy who checked in right after me, or a couple minutes after me, and if he’s got the staying power he’s going to pass me. Again, don’t really care, but it’s interesting, I had NO idea. I mean…it’s 1:24 in the morning. It’s…19:25…I’ve been running for 19 hours 25 minutes and I had NO idea that was going to be anywhere NEAR the front of the pack. Then again like six or seven people have dropped out just because of the heat earlier, medical problems, etc. etc. So, I mean so far so good we’ll see how it goes.

When I checked in at the final way point before the finish I learned just what it means to run an Ultra marathon. Obviously you have to be at a certain level of physical fitness, but vastly more important, in my opinion, is the mental fortitude necessary to never give up. To not quit in the face of despair. To not allow bleakness to swallow you in the abyss. Persevere. Believe. It’s not impossible. Nothing is impossible if you maintain faith.

Mike just passed me. He’s headed out to the next pit stop two miles away at 23, and I’ve got one marathon left. The way it’s looking about 6 ½ hours (HAH!) we should be done around 7a.m.(HAH!!!). So we’ll see how it goes.

Enter the bludgeon of sleep deprivation.

Alright…3 a.m. I’ve been running for 21 hours. I’ve got 18 miles to go…(exhale) and I just about have nothing left in my body. Um, (exhale) I’m just physically…(sigh)drained. So I’m trying to walk…and…I’ve got lacerations all over my body. I’ve got (I just sound dead here) a deep blister on the bottom of my left foot. I’ve got a tweak in my RIGHT knee now. Probably from overcompensating from my left knee earlier. My eyelids are heavy, and um, I’m just tired. I would just like to go to sleep right now. And on a regular given day 18 miles, you know, I don’t know whatever I can do that in 3 hours, easy…less, but um, right now…it’s looking more like…six hours.(exactly right) hopefully after a mile or two of just walking I’ll be able to start jogging again. More than anything else it’s my knee that’s bothering me. With my knee, tweaked, it’s just hard…it’s impossible because of the sharp pain. Forget about the exhaustion. But anyways, so…again like I said hopefully, um, maybe after about half an hour of walking or so I’ll be able to jog in two miles or so. So…give me a grand total of about 3 ½. We’ll see what happens and I’ll let you know.

Just like what happened with my left knee earlier in the race my right knee got ‘tweaked’ somehow around mile marker 19. With 18 miles left my right knee was just a continuous sharp thrust of pain with each stride. Fortunately a few miles later the paramedics came by in the ambulance. I flagged them down and they gave me an Ace bandage. I wrapped it around my knee tight enough to stabilize and support the joints. I think that’s all it was. 22 hours of running continuously and my joints were just weakened from the exertion. Once I wrapped the bandage around my knee it was much easier for me to continue on.

So it’s…bout 6 a.m. Sunday morning. And I uh, I’ve been running for the past 24 hours. And I’m at mile marker 10. So it’s 91 miles in 24 hours. I’ve got about, 8 miles…and more than anything else I think I’m just dying. Completely exhausted. Like I uh, I uh, don’t have any energy left at all. And I keep harnessing it so I can put it into a push, and I’ll stumble and I’ll run and I’ll jog and I’ll get into this groove for a mile or two miles but uh, but um, my body’s gassed. It’s at its limit right now and um, I just want to make sure I get to the fin…to the end. So…(extended pause) 8 ½ more miles to go. And I’ll let you know how it ends.

Another big mistake here…I think at 6 a.m. it had been about five or six hours since I had last eaten anything. My brother and I discussed it later on. I didn’t even realize it at the time, I was literally too tired to think of anything. There were times where I was running with my chin on my chest and my eyes lidded. Also, I just wasn’t hungry. I really couldn’t summon my appetite. Even when we started driving back to Miami to make it in time for my grandmother’s birthday I had to force myself to eat a sandwich. Well, it’s a work in progress, and I’ve learned so many valuable lessons from this race that I will be able to take with me for the rest of my life. I also cannot express in words just how tired I was. I think it was physically painful to run like that. I vaguely remember being in pain, but to be honest I can’t recall much of what happened between 5 and 7a.m. Sunday morning.

So I’ve got a little under 4 miles left. It’s 7:53 (Mike on the walkie) Sounds good. So…should be done by 8:30-ish, give or take. The uh, blister on the bottom of my foot is by far the worst pain I’m dealing with right now. Um, I’ve got a number of different rashes and infections that are in a number of different parts of my body. So I’ll have to try and take care of those when I get home, but um, we’ll see. Let you know how it turns out in the next hour it should all be over. And then I can go to sleep. And I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated sleep as much as I will after I finish this race.

The end is near. This was the point where I turned off of US-1 and made my way towards Smathers beach. What a tease! Just when you think you’re getting close the road leading to the finish line seemed to stretch on endlessly. Of course, my perception was skewed by this point and it was only a few miles, but it seemed like an eternity after running for 26 hours.

So it’s currently 8:47. I’ve been running for 26 hours and 47 minutes. I’ve got 1 ½ miles left to go. I’m really really happy.(Mike on the walkie) Wait…the what? (Pause) Ow…ow! But anyways, I’m really happy about everything that’s been going on…Hey Bob! So anyways, sorry that was the race director that was congratulating me; apparently I did something funny. Um…I don’t know…I don’t remember what I was saying. Oh! One mile left; yes I’m very excited. Yes, very very happy. Thrilled! Can’t you tell in my voice? (Dead tired and no emotion whatsoever) Um, I um, probably won’t be running for the next week, at least. I especially need to take care of my feet, my inner thighs, some other parts…uh, where else am I rashed or otherwise lacerated. It’s a work in progress and I’ll have to check it out as it goes. So um, still can’t see the finish line. I can see, well I can’t see anything I’m just walking. I call it walking because I’m going so slow that if someone was walking they’d still be able to pass me. Technically I’m running, because I guess I am making the correct body movements for it even if I’m not moving much. Um, so yes this was a great experience. One I’ll most likely never do again. Or if I do it will be a much cooler less hot less humid race. Well, I say that now. Ask me again in 24 hours after I’ve slept. With a slightly more organized crew plan, you know. But, despite that, my brother did a phenomenal job in taking care of me throughout the latter half of the race. But anyways, I’ll…I’ll do my whole post-race summary after I take a nap on the car ride back so I can go surprise my grandmother.

I finished. I did it. Within 15 months of failing to finish my first marathon I successfully ran my first 100 mile Ultra marathon. I can honestly say I am satisfied with the complete transformation of my life. I believe that I have taken my first steps in a larger world. To quote Dan Millman I can “stop trying to be superior in an ordinary realm, and start trying to be ordinary in a superior realm.” It truly is funny how life works sometimes. I believe I have learned more about life in the past 18 months than I have in the rest of my entire life. I will continue to live my life as an aspiring Peaceful Warrior, and I will continue to cherish each and every moment that I live for the potential that it offers.

I dedicate this race to my grandmothers, Beatrice “Bea” Rodriguez and Norma “Muna” Cerecedo in remembrance of what began my journey in the first place, and in honor of what is truly important in life. Happy 80th birthday Muna. May you live to see a hundred.

Appendix

List of items consumed during the race: Amount of each item Caloric value of item

Zephyrhills water bottle (700 ml.) x 14 0
Zephyrhills water bottle (½ liter.) x 17 0
Berry Rain Gatorade (12 oz.) x 09 810
Strawberry Rain Gatorade (20 oz.) x 03 390
Mountain Berry Accelerade (20 oz.) x 02 360
Berry Accelerade (20 oz.) x 03 540
Sprite bottle (20 oz.) x 01 230
Ginger ale can (12 oz.) x 01 120
Pedialyte (128 oz.) x 01 400
Pediatric drink (milk-based) (xx oz.) x 03 405
Banana x 02 220
Snicker’s Marathon Energy Bar (Peanut) x ½ 105
Watermelon slice x 12 150
Cantaloupe slice x 6 90
Trail mix (chocolate) (10 oz.) x ½ 115
Nutella (13 oz.) x 1 1,900
Total 5,835

Body weight Friday, May 16, 2008...6a.m. 192 lbs.
Body weight Sunday, May 18, 2008 12p.m. 181 lbs.
Body weight Sunday May 24, 2008 9a.m. 184 lbs.

The Road to War...

Originally Written on Sunday, April 27, 2008 at 12:31am

What does it mean to see the face of God? Is it a literal translation where one actually perceives the face of the Creator? Or is it metaphorical; having at last glimpsed some existential revelation that transcends previous thoughts regarding our reality?

Do we exist in a world that consists of natural laws and absolute truths, or is even the concept of the world a subjective creation of our sensations and experiences limited only by the constraints we place upon ourselves?

As I write this sitting by myself in front of my computer, over six billion people are living out their lives in vastly similar and different ways. It is, to me, inconceivable that I will ever truly be able to live in their world, because I will never experience it. I may meet thousands of people in my life, and touch several hundred of them in some meaningful way. It is even possible that my words and deeds will somehow influence the thoughts and actions of others. That, in my opinion, is an extremely powerful notion.

The legacies we as individuals leave behind us when we die are measured in innumerable ways. Wealth, property, offspring, even our family names are considered part of what we leave behind to posterity. Personally, I think more significant than the sum of all the others is the affect we have on the people we meet in our lives. The impression we leave after a friendly smile, a casual word, a glance, a loving embrace; whether the time spent together lasts long enough for a few sentences or a lifetime of shared memories and experiences our words and actions can echo in another's mind for the rest of their life. That, is a legacy.

The Road to War...

I march along the road to war,
To live, to die, to breath, to soar.
And though I am consumed by Night,
I'll not surrender my inner Light.

The one that drives me to succeed,
An endless hunger I need to feed.
Though battered, broken, bruised and bled,
Yet still this lonesome path I'll tread.

Now pay attention or you'll misperceive,
These words are more than average creed.
I need you here now can you see,
Just what these words do mean to me?

I've run farther than men can dream,
I've born this pain without a scream.
In search for immortality,
Until the end I'll not bend knee.

And so I march along this road,
Not knowing what the time will bode.
Yet ever knowing that my fight,
Will lead me to undying right.

Of principles, this moral code,
I swear by life I will uphold.
They'll mock, they'll sneer, they do not know,
My enemies I will lay low.

I've wandered now this endless dream,
For countless nights my thoughts do teem.
I'll rest beneath the bright starlight,
and marshal strength to fight with might.

These Demons now they mock, they jeer,
They try to beat me down with fear.
Yet each new day I rise again,
I march to war until the end.

I've shed my tears for fallen friends,
and vanquished foes as they descend.
I will not think compassion's trite,
but my soul still shines a bit less bright.

This weariness a burdened crown,
And emptiness this ghostly town.
The lonesome cold it does surround,
Drag me beneath the depths underground.

I feel the weight come crashing down,
These whispers try to make me drown.
Of death, despair, defeat and woe,
At twilight's end I still shout no.

I pick myself back off the ground,
My battle shout so clear the sound.
Defiant still, my head held high,
This tempest wind, a serene sigh.

With each new breath within my side,
I fill my soul with fire and pride,
I stand unbroken, show no fear,
These dedicated eyes do seer.

With strength infused into my limbs,
My conviction steel; save these victims.
I will not quit nor will I fail,
I'll see this battle through Shadow's Vale.

My words and deeds they do avow,
As I place my conscience upon my brow.
I sheath my sword the war is done,
I look to see where dawn comes from.

As sunlight washes overhead,
I stand atop the conquered dead.
Look past horizons of futures untold,
I take that lonesome step so bold.

So off to war I march again,
A constant struggle start to end.
I now know why they call it life,
The joys that come with all the strife.

The road to war goes on and on,
I'll stay this course from dusk to dawn.
With each new battle I swear my vow,
Immortality begins right here, right now.



Life brings new challenges every day. Sometimes they confront us head on. Sometimes they come out of nowhere. Sometimes we're ready for them. Sometimes we're not. These challenges can bring us great pain, and they can bring great sorrow. The true test of our character comes not when we are at our best, but when we are most vulnerable. It is when we are broken and shattered that our true character shines through. It is when our hearts are bared with tears streaming down our faces that we are most beautiful. It is when we are so weak that we can barely stand or see through the pain that our true strength is unveiled. It is only after we have broken down all barriers that we can truly begin to build something meaningful. It is only when life is chaotic and swirling all around us that we can clearly see its true meaning.

I am a Peaceful Warrior. Each and every day I find myself distracted. Each and every day I find myself needing a war to fight. A cause to pledge myself to. A goal to achieve. A mountain to climb. Each and every day I march along the road to war, and each and every single day I am reborn again as I find something or someone to fight for. My only hope is that with each new day I can take someone's pain away, lighten their burden, and help them see through to the other side where they can find peace and happiness.

Eternity in a Moment

Originally written on Sunday, April 20, 2008 at 9:25pm

Within each grain of sand lies a world undiscovered; with each new breath we are reborn as life begins anew. Every blink of the eye captures a moment for eternity. Every unspoken thought a requiem for a conversation forever lost in what might have been.

I was running through a park several days ago and saw an elderly woman sitting in a park bench lost in thought. She was staring with unfocused eyes as though reliving some memory of her past. It struck me then of all that life is and how it can pass us in a moment.

I started thinking of how I wanted to compare that captured image of the woman on the bench in my memory to a scene frozen forever within a snow globe. A single moment of time forever captured in eternity. Within the blink of an eye so many possibilities open and close. They stop to say hi or pass by without a glance. I was going to write about it at length, but then when I began I started to think of these rhyming lyrics. I really do not think I have any talent for poetic rhymes, but sometimes it's nice to express my thoughts in a different way.

If you've ever looked into a picture frame, or glanced at your reflection...
Maybe you and I would feel the same, and pass this point of tension.

Of broken hearts, a fractured glance, our eyes meet for a moment...
A stuttered start, I ask to dance, a path to my atonement.

A nervous smile, a little laugh, I can't seem to say anything...
Forgive me girl it's been a while, my path, forever wandering.

I fail to make you see the fire, that burns within my soul...
Every word I say "a liar", your past has taken its toll.

But if you could only see within, and feel of my emotions...
You'd no longer seal it in, risk love and cross the oceans.

All I want to be is there, for you, forever after...
'Cause all I really do is care, it's true, so still the laughter.

A crying shoulder, just be a friend, or love that lasts forever...
I'll be that boulder, your heart I'll tend, I want to be together.

I see it all within a flash, then back to this reality...
The picture frame goes in the trash, reflection just a mockery.

Then I'll go back home at night, and write it all down for comment...
Of what could have been the light, eternity in a moment.

There are no Coincidences

Originally written on Monday, March 24, 2008 at 10:12pm

When I woke up at 4:30 a.m. on the day of the race I knew a number of things were going to happen throughout the course of the day. I knew I was going to run 50 miles. I knew I was going to meet some new and interesting people at the race. I knew I was going to have an amazing time, and I knew that at least once during the day I was going to question my sanity. Yet it always seems that it is the one thing we do not prepare for that inevitably forces us to make a difficult decision. This is no less true in our daily lives than it was for me on this given day.

I drove to the race feeling calm and confident. Sure in my abilities and the path that had led me up to this point in my journey. Everything seemed to be working in my favor. My muscles felt loose and rested. The weather was perfect: cool and slightly breezy. Unlike most of my races I knew this was going to be a long day, and I was already in a state of mind that allowed me to see the course of the day unfold before me.

I started the race in the middle of the pack but methodically worked my way up front. I used my powerful small flashlight illuminating the ground before me as a guide of where to step. The race was called "Croom's Trail 50 miles Fools Run" and the name was apt. Only a fool would choose to pay and run along a treacherous trail littered with dead brush, fallen branches, hidden roots and any number of other perils.

As we passed by the "start/finish" area and began our first 15-mile loop I settled in to a comfortable pace with a group of four other runners. There was a young man in a red shirt around my age who led the pack and despite his cavalier approach to running headlong into the trail kept us at a good pace. He constantly stumbled over the raised branches and hidden roots, and he fell twice. Muttering about a weak lighting, red shirt allowed me to pass him and take control of the pace group. I led us further down the trail until we reached a fork in the trail with no visible marker as to which way to go. No glow sticks, no trail tape, no orange blaze to let us know which trail was correct.

As the other four members of my pack and I discussed which way to go I was suddenly reminded of a scene from "The Lord of the Rings" where Gandalf is leading the Fellowship through the Mines of Moria and comes upon the three diverging paths. I smiled to myself as I thought "I have no memory of this place". After discussing it for a minute or so we continued on the right trail (we guessed correctly) red shirt took the lead again, stumbling through the darkness. I remember thinking to myself how horrible it would be if he fell again and broke an ankle.

Not ten minutes later...I fell, and felt as much as heard a sharp *SNAP* in my left foot and ankle. Immediately grasping my foot in a crouch, I gasped as the pain seared through me. Red shirt and the rest of my pack stopped and asked if I was okay, but I told them to go on. They could do nothing for me. The last runner in the pack told me it was 12 miles to the beginning of the loop, and only three miles back to the base camp. I did the only thing I could do. I ran.

Or rather, I tried to run. The first step sent a lance of pain through my leg as I whimpered to another stop. Doggedly, I began walking forward. Determinedly, I put one foot in front of the other, all the while thinking to myself...all of the training, the countless hours, the dedication...wasted. As other packs of runners caught up to me they each expressed their concern and offered sympathy, but all I could taste was the bitter ashes in my mouth. Wasted. As the grey of pre-dawn broke the darkness around me, my self-pity and morose thoughts transformed into a series of short, angry phrases:

Pain is...a weakness.
Pain is...temptation.
Pain is...temporary.
Pain is...an illusion.
Pain is...life.
Pain is...meaningless.
Pain is...powerless.
Pain is...nothing.
Pain is...the Siren's Song.
Pain is...a welcome struggle.
Pain is...the price to be paid.
Pain is...on the road to victory.

With each utterance I lurched forward into a shambling run, bloodied but unbowed in my quest. I would not allow myself to come so far only to fall so short from my goal. The pain was grueling yes, but no matter how sharp the pain felt, no matter how much it seared through my leg, I knew that the pain in my ankle was a pale shadow compared to the pain I have felt before in my life. A small pinprick compared to a gaping hole in my chest. The pain served as a reminder of how important each continued step was to me. Not just for myself, but for all of the people who doubted. For all of the people who say it cannot be done. More importantly, for all of the people who wish it could be done, but cannot themselves. Most importantly, for those family and one or two friends that I love and cherish.

Anger is a funny thing. It fuels the body with adrenaline and allows us to achieve more than we are otherwise capable of. It was anger that motivated me to sign up for the IronMan competition after an incident with my father over the summer. It was anger over lowering my guard that convinced me to sign up for the Ultramarathon. Yet Anger is its own weakness. Anger fades. It is illusory. It is transitory; of the moment. The only way to live a good life is to act on our emotions, but emotions are not enough to sustain us over the course of time. Emotions cannot go the distance. For that, one needs to be committed to a deeper reservoir of power.

Dedication. Belief. The will to act. Dedication to one's self, dedication to the lifestyle I have chosen for myself, and dedication to live each day to its fullest potential. Belief in myself, belief in my ability to achieve anything....anything I set my mind to, and belief that what I do will inspire others to better themselves, if in many different ways. The will not just to dream, but to act. To make my dreams a reality and to inspire others to achieve their dreams, whatever they may be. The will to change our lives for the better by becoming something greater than we are.

So I ran. I jogged and I shuffled and I limped and I walked...and I ran.

Then I ran into Phil. Literally. In my reckless attempt to carry on I caught up with one of the packs that had passed me and joined myself to them in the back. There were five runners, and as I joined their conversation I introduced myself to them. One of them asked if my ankle was going to hold up. In a grim humor, I quoted Han Solo from "Star Wars" in saying "Don't worry. She'll hold together." Ironically enough, a hidden root and a twisting pain in my foot made me fervently think to myself: Hear me baby, hold together.

The last runner in the pack in front of me was Phil. A 29-year old infantryman from Ft. Benning, Georgia, Phil and I became very close throughout the course of the race. Genuinely concerned about my ankle, Phil offered to help me with an Ace bandage and painkillers when we reached his truck at the beginning of the trail. Over the course of the next seven miles or so I took the lead from the pack and pushed at a quicker pace to try and get to the beginning quicker. Phil kept pace with me and kept asking to make sure I was doing okay. Over the course of 10 hours running together you really get to know a person. Phil had a number of things he really needed to talk about and I was really glad I was able to meet him and listen. Truly a great guy.

The two of us finally reached his truck and I swear Phil had enough stuff to stock a Walmart in the back of his truck. He had a cooler with drinks, a box of power bars, an Ace bandage, and the coup de grace...800mg Aspirin. This is the stuff you can give to horses and women in labor. (Okay, not really...but still potent stuff) I am stubborn to a fault with most things, and that includes taking medicine. I rarely ever do so unless it is absolutely. Being in the condition I was in though, and having 30 more miles to run with an ankle I was seriously considering gnawing off at the bone...I wrapped my ankle in the bandage, popped an Aspirin and we headed out for the second loop with Phil.

If the second loop was torture for me, it was just as bad for Phil. By mile 30, Phil was nauseous, gaseous, bloated, dizzy and overall in a bad way. Each person is different, but you have to maintain the very fine balance of hydration and caloric consumption in order to keep your body functioning properly. If there's one thing I've come to learn extremely well over the last year, it's my body. Over the course of the entire race I consumed no more than 600 calories. One and a half bananas, 1/2 a Snicker's marathon bar, one 3 oz. cup of chocolate M&Ms, and a handful of reduced fat Wheat Thins. That's it. Of course, I drank enough water and Gatorade to fill a small lake, but even still I didn't need to use the bathroom once all day.

Phil though was eating gels left and right and starting getting some really nasty cramps. At this point I was running faster than him (ankle and all) and he told me to keep going without him, but I told him to forget it. Without him, I would have been in really bad shape and I was going to repay him for his kindness. So I chivvied him, bullied him, and kept making him take step after step in order to keep him from stopping. So Phil (the cramped and dehydrated) and I (the cripple) somehow managed to make it back to his truck at the end of the second loop. At that point he told me how sorry he was for my ankle but at the same time how grateful he was I stuck around to run with him. That made the race worth while for me if nothing else. With 35 miles down and 15 to go we were on our way.

The last loop I led for most of the way making sure Phil was drinking enough water to stay hydrated and trying to work out some of those knotted cramps by walking every once in a while. It started raining on us with about four miles to go, but Phil was almost burned out by this point. I just let him take the lead and jogged behind him when he could, talked next to him when he walked. Everything really does happen for a reason, and if a sprained ankle cost me a chance at winning the race, it also put me in a position to meet Phil and help him finish his race. Definitely worth it in my opinion.

Ten and a half hours after starting the Croom's Fool Run Ultramarathon Phil and I crossed the line together in what culminated in a great day. We had to run through the finish line again because the photographer was sitting under a tarp. I thought it was hilarious. After the photo-finish I walked over to the covered bench where a dozen or so finishers were recuperating. They asked me if I was hungry, and I stared at him. He gave me a hamburger. A juicy, delicious, heavenly hamburger. Probably one of the best-tasting things I've ever had in my life.

The other finishers were sitting at the benches but despite my ankle I was standing and walking around. I truly felt incredible after the race. I just had an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. The more so for having done it in the way I did. Phil and I talked for a few minutes before I decided to head back to the hotel and get out of the rain. To celebrate my race I ordered a large pepperoni pizza and devoured it in one sitting. (It's becoming a tradition)

Yes, I probably aggravated my injury by running 45 miles with a sprained ankle. Yes, I could have run another race in a month or two after letting my ankle heal. Yet I also kept my promise of finishing through with what I started. I kept my promise of not quitting and not giving up. Like I said, the race was an amazing experience, and I wouldn't change anything that happened.

This thread goes out to all of the people (including myself) who have ever used the word can't at some point in their lives. I would like to introduce all of us to the words can, will, and did.

Oh, one last thing. A small thing, but important to me so I'll end my thread with this...

As I was gathering all of my gear the morning of the race I suddenly noticed some words written around my race number hanging from my race belt. They read: Don't quit. Don't ever quit...

...and I never will.