Yeti 100 Part 3 of 3

Start from the beginning. Click here for part 1.

At the top of Whitetop Station, crap hit the fan. I was scared, cold, and fatigued (both mentally and physically). I sat in a camping chair drinking chicken broth. I needed a sweatshirt underneath my jacket, which now had a stuck zipper. This whole process took way too long, which Becky took notice. With her help and Sara’s, I was able to get my hoodie and jacket back on in a relative fast manner. As I was shaking from emotions and the cold, I completely broke down. With my head in my hands, I remember sobbing about the finish line being “too far.” To me, it was insurmountable. How could anyone possible continue? I heard the sniffles from my crew as they rubbed my back and consoled me. This is really it this time. I’m gassed out, my brain is in a dark place. I am cold, sore, and cramping everywhere. There is no way I can continue.

With Sara at Whitetop Station the first time. The second time, we weren't all smiles...

Then a guy came in with a hotspot and huge blister. The volunteers took off his shoe and helped give him treatment. The dude than began to stand up and hobble away. If he can do it, why can’t I?

I’m not sure what happened next. I think it involved eating some Fritos scooped in salt. Maybe I peed again? I vaguely remember apologizing for peeing directly next to someone. Regardless, Sara and I got back on the trail. And holy crap, we were running! Like, not hobbling down a path, but actually running!!!

For the next four miles, I felt invincible. I tried to be motivational as I passed people climbing up, though it probably didn’t come off that way. We even passed a few people going the same direction as us!

The next way station(s) was(were) a blur. However, in between, I peed a lot. We then made it to the next aid station where I guzzled broth and ate Fritos/chips scooped with salt - you know, my new diet. I’m pretty sure my kidneys hate me, but it was the only thing keeping my legs mobile. It was at this aid station that I realized, “Yes, Josh, you can finish this. Positive mental attitude!”

But with the highs come the lows. I started to get in a dark place again. I was tired. REALLY tired. Like falling asleep while running tired. I would run for a bit, less than half a mile, and slow to a walk. After a few strides, I would stop to rest my hands on my knees. I would then go in and out of sleep only to be snapped awake when my hands slipped off. I would then pee and walk a bit more, maybe even break out into a slow run. And then, as the saying goes, “lather, rinse, repeat.” Only for me it was “walk, pee, sleep, repeat.”

I complained to Sara about how tired I was. Though she was encouraging and did a great job, my brain was secretly telling her to shut up and sleep. I visualized myself sleeping on the side of the trail. I was even trying to do math to figure out how much time I could spend just laying down. I was constantly trying to get my micro sleeps, but Sara kept pushing me forward. Even after drinking another Red Bull, my eyelids were starting to win the war.

However, my persistence of complaining about resting paid off. As we approached another trestle, Sara actually suggested that I rest on the side of the bridge. I tried to make my way, but began to stumble. In my mind, I fell off the side of the bridge. To my surprise, I must have grabbed Sara’s body and safely perched my head on the rail. I snapped back to it quickly as a guy ran by. I don’t remember what he said, but it was something generic like “let’s go, buddy.” And for whatever reason, I went.

Every now and then I would get a spurt of energy. I would run around an 11 minute pace for what felt like an eternity. However, my watch told me otherwise. Some stretches would be close to two miles. Others, not even one. I would then walk a bit, pee, and take a brief rest. So much peeing happened on this last leg.

We made it back to Damascus, where they had an actual bathroom, more salt/broth, and a toasty fire. This time, however, I knew I was going to continue. I propped my feet up on another chair and enjoyed some flames as I snacked. I could even enjoy some m&ms now without feeling like getting sick. Sara looked on concerned, but I was now confident. After a couple more minutes, we shot out of there, and I started running again.

Mile 84-ish. Are we actually smiling?

To keep my mind off of sleeping, I tried talking to Sara about the gates we were getting close to. She probably thought I was delusional because they weren’t showing up. However, I knew that had to be near. I vividly remember Vern running ahead to open one when I had a good rhythm going. Finally, I had some validation. We ran passed a few gates and then something glorious happened. The sun began to rise.

As it rose, so did my confidence. I was now no longer falling asleep. Sara keeps talking about how beautiful it was. All I remember was three feet in front of me --- rocks, dirt, and leaves. Between my moans and grunts, there was little time for sightseeing. I was focused, I remember thinking of Jake and Elwood saying they were “on a mission from God.” I chortled at my internal impersonation.
And then, I got in a groove. The sound of my pack mixed with the pounding cadence of my feet hypnotized me. I became a man possessed. Sara would talk, I would listen, sometimes making a noise to let her know I heard her. A few “I love you too’s” were muttered as I continued to thrash my way to the finish line.

With eight-ish miles to go, we were back at Avalarado. I sat down and enjoyed some food, broth, and either coffee or soda. Unfortunately, this would also be the last time I would see Becky. I took a longer rest than needed, but it felt good. I knew I was going to finish and was now starting to take it all in.

The next way point we simply waved to Vern and Mario. I continued to press on, passing the occasional runner here and there. This continued as we drew closer to the line. Ahh the finish line… where the heck is it? I’m actually running, and it is still not in sight! UGH!

Oh wait, there’s the bypass bridge under construction. The finish line is near. I think I can actually see it. I also see two guys that I am going to beat going down this hill towards the finish line.

I picked up the pace as I told Sara how close we were. Just around the next corner…. Nope, I was wrong. Oh well, keep running, it has to be the next corner. Welp, about four corners later, I saw a mass of people. No fancy blow-up arch, just some flags strewn between some trees and a pavilion. The remainder of my crew was also there. But more importantly, there was Jason, waiting to give me a big freaking hug!

Nomination for best hug ever?

Yup, that's me hugging Jason. We only met like 36 hours ago. Can you feel the love?

I joyously crossed the finish line, clenching another man like he was my long-lost mother. In a state of complete surrealness, I was then handed my buckle. Now rumor has it that in this moment, a strong stoic man like myself, that just completed 100 freaking miles, shed a tear. To clear the air, I must let myself be heard… YES! I cried a bit over a materialistic piece of apparel. And you know what, I have no shame in that.

To many, this belt buckle is just a piece of metal associated with a stupid idea. But for those who put in the work and kept grinding, it means so much more. The drive, the passion, the determination. All the hours of training and organizing of materials. The dedication of a team and the love of a second family. That’s what my buckle is. I will cherish it forever, and will probably be buried with me when I die. It is my first of its kind, and will probably NOT be my last, but only time will tell. As for now, I’ll be sneaking little peaks at my buckle when no one is looking, to relive the highs and to remember the lows. 

Exhausted and Elated! Man, I love this buckle.

Thanks to everyone for their love and support, especially our crew: Sara, Jennifer, Mario, Vern, Lisa, and Becky (and John for helping Becky out with everything while she was away!).

"I get by with a little help from my friends"

And finally, a VERY special “thank you” to Jeremy Sanders for planting the seed and getting us into the race. Without you, I would never know what I was truly capable of.

If you enjoyed this recap, please consider visiting www.forlucas.com and making a donation to the Lucas Fund. While you’re at it, check out Jeremy’s blog at www.runningdad.com. He is full of information, tips, and other race recaps. Plus, he’s a pretty cool dude.

Studly, if I may say so myself

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