Death Before DNF

 The weather hit me as I walked out my front door, it was 5am and already it was warm, bordering on hot. There would be no cool start with the temps rising; it was going to go from hot to hotter at the Afton 50K. The first loop went relatively well, I could feel the heat, my shirt and shorts already soaked through just six miles in, I was drinking constantly and taking in water and Nunn at aid stations hoping that I could stay even, but when I ran down a hill and could hear my shoes squeaking with sweat I knew I was already behind
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Slow down I thought adjust your pace to the environment, going into this race I felt I could crack 5 hours, I knew it was going to be a challenge but my training on the course had me thinking that was possible if I had a great race, this was not turning out to be a great race. By mile 13 at the top of the 'meat grinder' I was already starting to feel the cramp in the back of my hamstring that I normally don't get until the last few miles of a 50-mile race, I contemplated dropping at the halfway point. I hammered up to the 16mile halfway mark and talked to another runner who said 'This is the hardest race I have done, I think I'll quit.' Sounded good to me but I had just finished that loop in 234 and thought there was still an outside chance I could get close to 5 hours if I held that pace on the second loop...I didn't.

On the second loop I started taking S-caps (like salt tablets) but the cramps kept hitting my hamstring, and moved into my calf by the time I got to mile 20. They weren't debilitating, just enough to force me to slow down even more and adjust my stride to make sure I didn't irritate them. Around mile 20 I realized that I had been so focused on hydrating that I had hardly eaten anything all day, but looking at the spread of food nothing looked good, my stomach was turning sour but I just couldn't bring myself to eat.

I stumbled into the mile 22 aid station, sat down, drank ice cold water, stretched my leg, calmed my stomach, thought about dropping but talked myself into 4 more miles, I would end up at this same aid station and if I needed to drop it was fine & closest place to walk out. As I left there I walked up a long dirt road, stomach flip-flopping, hoping walking would calm it down and allow the little food I did eat would be absorbed. At the top of the hill I felt better rolled along the ridge & down to the river only to start back up a massive 2-part hill. It was here the wheels totally fell off. I trudged up with some guy, complaining about my stomach, the heat and told him I was done at 26, this was stupid, the air so hot and humid it was like walking though soup. At the top of the hill I found a bench, lay down to settle my stomach for a bit then kept moving, marching, just one foot in front of the other. I attempted to run but my left leg wouldn't allow it. I marched through the camp grounds and then down a massive hill to the 26mile aid station. I sat and drank ice cold water, held ice on the back of my neck. Ate some food, not enough I am sure, but all that I felt comfortable with. I talked to a worker about how I drop, they would need my chip and my race number then I would have about a half mile walk out to my car. A girl rolled in a few minutes after me and just handed off her chip and number just like that she was done.

Here I was debating the question over and over in my head. I had never walked off the course before, and couldn't really imagine just quitting. I knew I could, I wasn't out to prove anything, I have run this distance many times, and today was just a bad day. But there was something in the back of my head that just wouldn't let me go. Physically I felt fine (In that I had the strength to go on, my legs and feet felt good, outside of the cramps hitting from time to time) mentally things had been tough from the get-go, the heat always does that to me but I am stubborn enough to handle that. It was my stomach that was the concern, just couldn't seem to get it to settle. I sat, thought about leaving and whether I would be able to handle that.

 Then I stood up and just started moving, I walked out of the aid station, I picked up my feet into a modified run (think Fred Sanford shuffle) a line from a DMX song played over and over in my head 'Hard-headed mother f--- always get it'. Made it running to the 'meat grinder' hill, then my running days were over. I hoofed it up there, pausing to sit and settle my stomach, got to the aid station there, less than 3 miles to the end. I sat in the shade while a young 6-year old worker helped me with ice, water and encouragement, I walked out of there, attempted to run and decided it wasn't happening, so I just marched. It took forever but I just kept marching, up the last hill, around the bend and finally off in the distance saw the tents of the finish line, with about 50 yards to go I went back to my Fred Sanford shuffle, crossed the finish line and laid down in the shade. 7:14:33...the first loop took 234; the second loop 4:40...yikes.

It was not my best race, probably one of my worst, did I go out to fast, should I have been drinking more, eating more, maybe just skipped it all together? Maybe, but in the end I finished. Nearly everyone I talked to out there that day had a rough one, I was no exception, and I need to learn to adjust to the environment. As The Dude said in the Big Lebowski, "Sometimes you eat the bar and sometimes the bar eats you" the bar ate me at Afton but I made it to the finish line and learned some valuable lessons along the way which I will apply to future races.

 At the finish line-