Yeti 100 Part 2 of 3

If you missed part 1, click here

At the first turn around, I felt solid. Weary, but confident. I grabbed some snacks, a swig of ginger ale, and turned around with Jeremy knowing that our pacers would be picking us up soon.

 

Ginger Ale instead of Coke? Please help my belly...

And this is where my dreams started to go down the toilet. Around mile 41, Vern and Mario joined in. We stayed together for a little jaunt, but my legs became worse for wear. I began to cramp up horribly. Not the usually, “ugh this is annoying,” but rather “holy crap, my leg is stuck in a dog peeing position!” Speaking of pee, when was the last time I peed? There was a solid stretch in the sun, but I didn’t feel that bad. I’ve been drinking regularly, but was it enough? Dang, I think it has been close to thirty miles. Regardless, my body was starting to crash. Knowing we both had personal goals, I didn’t feel bad watching Mario and Jeremy pull further and farther away. As I began to walk, they became just tiny specks in the distance.

And just like that, they were gone. Now, Vern was stuck with me. I hobbled, I limped. I went a little crazy trying to talk to my legs out of cramps. It didn’t really work. Fortunately, some kind soul offered me a couple salt tabs some ways down the trail. I graciously accepted as I called her my trail angel. To my surprise, not 3 minutes later, I was running again. Well, sort of running. It was definitely faster that a walk! The pain was gone, but I knew it would be back again. I just hoped that it would last until the next way point.

Shortly after, Vern’s duties were up. Mario joined me, and we made it to mile 50 at 9:47:xx. Not too shabby for my first 50 miler. If I signed up for the 50-mile run, I would have finished 8^th overall! However, the next few events almost cost me everything.

Knowing that I had a nice time cushion and feeling like my legs were two large blood-filled sacks, I told Mario that I was going to lay down for ten minutes. I instructed him to wake me up at 10:00:00 and he did. Unfortunately, I stood up way to fast. My world started to go black. Some light flashes glinted across my eyes. Then, they began to shake. I don’t remember what happened next. I just remember some lady helping me put my legs up on a chair. Mario confirmed a few days later, that I was totally out of it.

After she left, I became very cold. She came back to check on me and noticed the same thing. She and Mario dragged the chair into the sun, and there I laid for about another fifteen minutes. It was then I realized my training sucked. I was not capable of completing 100 freaking miles. I was done. Maybe next year I could try again. I quit.

I helped Mario dial Sara’s number. No answer. Then Vern, and Becky’s. Nothing still. We sent messages through Facebook and text stating our dismay. My race was over, I needed a ride to cheer on Jeremy. Why can’t they answer?! I needed to be done.

Seriously, I was done. Thankfully, they didn't answer!

I laid there, pissed at myself. Mad that I wouldn’t finished. Frustrated that I had to give up. And more importantly, no buckle. CRAP!

Then, I heard one of the main guys at the aid station chatting to other volunteers. “Make sure in a few moments we check runners for a jacket and head lamp.” Bummer, my headlamp was with my crew.

And then, just like that, my brain switched. “You can’t get kicked off the course. That’s degrading. C’mon, get up!” I repeat those two words numerous times in my mind, “GET UP!” It became my life’s purpose. So much so, that maybe I even said it a few times out loud. “Get up, NOW!”

I then told Mario that we had to go. I cautiously stood up and told the guy at the aid station that I was good. I confirmed that I had my head lamp and jacket by patting my pack and nodding my head --- it was technically a half truth. I had my jacket, and I could easily get my headlamp in the next 3 miles. But most importantly, I got up. Time to move forward.

My legs became robotic from the lack of use. Everything from my hips down was now cramping or too sore to move. I couldn’t run at all, and I could barely walk. But walk I did. The desire and anger began to boil together. I was mad. I’m not sure at exactly what, but it got me moving and that’s all that matters. Time to kick some booty.

 

Loved this town and the random strangers that I shared the trail with; both competitors and locals.

We got to the next way station where some of my crew were chilling, awaiting our arrival. Vern had actually gone back to go check on us. Sorry Vern! I didn’t stay long though. I knew stopping would just make things worse. Sara must have noticed something was up, too (my 52:54 mile was a good indicator). From this point on, she was my pacer. My rock. The peas to my carrots.

I tried eating, but anything sweet made things worse. I drank some Gatorade, munched on Fritos and chips dipped in iodized salt, and moved on.

The next half-marathon was a blur. I don’t think I ran more than 5 miles, but I’m not too sure. I was in a dark place and all I remember was walking up a hill for a long time (again, around 3,000 feet gain). Before it got too dark though, I met up with another runner that I had been leap frogging. He sat down next to me as I was changing my shoes (Topo ST2 to New Balance MT) at Alvarado. I glanced over, and he was chaffing pretty bad by his arm pit. I offered him some Vaseline, and he kindly accepted. We are now Facebook friends. Ultras are weird like that I guess.

 

Alvarado Aid Station. Cool people, awesome food, and where I shared Vaseline for the first time in my life

Feeling fatigued, I slammed a Red Bull, almost threw up said Red Bull, but let out an amazing Elf like burp instead. We were rolling again. “I gotta keep moving…”

Somewhere between that, I snagged my headlamp. As we slogged through the dark, droves of runners and pacers passed me. We stopped at another way point and I suddenly started to freak out. Something moist is attacking my leg! Whoops, nope. It was just a kitten. I sat down next to the little fur baby and started to pet it as it rubbed up against my legs. I was waiting for a Gatorade anyways, so I had some time to chill. I took my shoes off, splayed my toes, and let the cat nuzzle against me. I felt bad for leaving it behind, but I had more important things in front of me. I was hoping to run, but the mind-body connection wasn’t there. I took off for a little bit a couple of different times, but for the most part, it was an 18 minute pace walk up a mountain.

Location of the kitty attack. This was the first time through. I met kitty the second time in the dark.

And so, the hike up to Whitetop Station continued. My legs were cramping from just walking now. I’ve cramped in races before, but this was a new sensation. Having almost zero control of about half my body is really weird and surreal. I decided at this point, I would ask the next person to pass if he or she had any salt. Then, a couple (a married couple, but to different people. Their own story was quite funny, involving little spoons and other antics) slowed up next to us. They engaged in conversation, and I gingerly asked if they had any salt. To my surprise, yes they did! And it even had caffeine in it! Double SWEET! 

The miniature surge from this tiny capsule was amazing. I wasn’t able to gallivant up the rest of the mountain, but I was still moving forward. Relentless forward progress and all that jazz… I’ve been meaning to look them up to see how Josh (aka Dewey) did and to thank him. If you are reading this, THANK YOU!
(post edit: there were two other Josh's on the course. One ran 22:34:33 and the other 23:34:39. Congrats Dewey!)

But just like that, they left. It sucked seeing people come and go, especially when I wasn’t chasing anyone down. It was then that I became very humbled. I was out of my league. Did I even belong here? Doubts started to creep in. I was quickly entering a very dark place. I definitely didn’t train enough. Fortunately, I had a secret weapon – Sara. She was still grinding along side of me, pointing out rocks so I wouldn’t trip. Using her own light source to help guide me in the right direction we neared closer towards Whitetop Station. This was just the beginning. I would know soon how important she would really become.

Then there were lights ahead. I had made it to the top. 66 miles, twice as far as I had ever gone. Now, I had two choices: Be proud of what I had done and call it a day, or keep going and maybe get a belt buckle. The first choice sounded great and would have been easy. Just drive down the mountain and cheer Jeremy on. The second option didn’t seem feasible. Another 33 miles, seriously??

I sat down in a camping chair, shivering from both cold and fear. I began to cry…

Click here for part 3