Oh Everest, My Everest

Yesterday I participated in this event, except obviously it is now 2007. Tom's Run started out as a team-building exercise in honor of CWO-4 Tom Brooks of the Coast Guard and has become an annual tradition, even after his death. I wish I had known all of this before I rented a car and drove a couple of hours into the boonies to have this adventure... it means a lot more now that I know. I also learned a lot about how to be better prepared for next time; namely, to prepare.

Sadly I missed the big finish today because I slept like a rock until noon, but I will say that that was the most beautiful adventure I've ever had. Ever. I can't wait to do it again next year.

I sort of lucked out and un-lucked out at the same time. The day started out at probably 90 degrees at sun up and was 97 once it got warmed up a bit. It was like walking through warm soup when I left the office to grab lunch and I wasn't even running then! I think the coach almost died a few times during his 1000-mile leg in the middle of the day. He sure looked like he wanted to die as he finished it and I prepared to start my leg.

I started around 6:30 or 7 or... hell, I don't know what time it was anymore. I was hot and I had taken a nice detour through downtown Hagerstown (15 miles from where I needed to be) by taking a wrong turn. Turns out that the area by the C&O Canal out there is simply beautiful. I might like to live there one day and have some horses and a cat that chases mice in the night. Yes, a nice little farm house and farm pets. *Ahem* As I was saying...

Most of the stretch from Cumberland to Bethesda is on the path that runs along the canal, but my leg included the 5-mile stretch where you have to run on the road... the narrow, narrow, two-way road that is like a maze connecting all the big pretty farm houses. I was told that the locals don't all like having us around when I was getting ready to start my run, but I already knew this from the tail-gating and dirty looks I got as I took another few wrong turns on these narrow, narrow, rolling roads.

The sky turned cloudy about five minutes into my run. That was lucky because I spent that first five minutes negotiating a hill. (Not the best warm up, but it was too early for me to start out with smaller steps... I would have just wanted to stop and walk.) My biker turned out to be the MCP jokester himself, so that helped a lot. I think I stayed pretty much on pace (maybe? still standing by for the exact numbers) and that is pretty remarkable for such a hot miserable day and for sooooo many hills. He was a very good distraction and I owe him a lot for getting me through that. (Thank you.) Anyway, then we heard the thunder.


Wait, thunder?


Yes, thunder.


There was a thunderstorm coming. It was still a ways off, we could tell. There was about 20 seconds between each flash and boom. But it was definitely coming. It started to rain on us. I wouldn't call it a downpour, but they were the big drops that make a little *thud* on your head and soak right through your clothes (not that I would have minded being soaked). I was a mixture of happy and terrified. Isn't there something about not running in a thunderstorm? Pretty sure that's what you're supposed to NOT do. At this point, I was possessed and running faster than my normal pace because my madness had me convinced that I might somehow beat the storm to the end of my leg (yeah, right... 10 miles? Pshh.) Jokester friend helped out by reminding me that I still need to drink and handed me my little fuel bottles every now and then. We plugged along the road in the intermittent rain and dodged a car every so often. (Not everybody on the road was happy to see us and some didn't pull away from the side of the road much - or at ALL - when they zoomed past us.)

The rain sort of tapered off and I was sad to have experienced the beginning and end of my first rainy run without getting wet enough to feel good from it. Those drops seemed to soak through the shirt and then get lost somewhere before actually touching my skin, and my overheating arms and legs certainly didn't feel any relief from them.

Eventually, we hit the towpath and made our turn into the trail that mirrors the canal. What a happy moment! That meant I was more than halfway. "So I did 5.5 miles right? Only 4.5 left on this path and I'm home free?"

"Uhh, well..." [beeping sounds from the Pacerunner305 on his wrist]

The trail was a lot darker than the road because there was a thick canopy above us. I started to feel like Frodo with my Sam (on a bike) trying to stay one step ahead of the ringwraiths. Then we came up on some delightful hillbilly locals. (Tom Bombadil, is that you?) "Haaay! We saw yew 'bout three mah-les back!" one drawled incredulously. The other looked at him, as if to confirm that I was crazy enough to be that person they passed on the road earlier. I smiled and said, "Yep!" as I flew past them. The cooler temperature under the shade of the trees had me feeling good and I was at a pretty nice clip.

"So, now that I'm past halfway, I want to know how far I've gone." More beeping from Sam's wrist.

"Well.... let's just say you're halfway right about now." What??!

"WHAT?!?"

"Yeah, but we don't know if this is actually going to be 10 miles..."

"WHAT!?!"

"Let's just say if this leg really is 10 miles, you're halfway now."

"WHAT?!!"

And so I went, ploddingly. Nature was calling insistently by this point because I had overhydrated in the car during the 97-degree drive and I really didn't sweat much in the rainy, cloudy weather that came when I started. It had been damn hot, but I didn't have sunshine to beat me down. I didn't go slowly for too long after the bad news; I had to hurry in my quest for a port-a-potty.

When we finally got to one, it was damn dark. The sun must have set. I still had no idea what time it was. I took a flashlight in with me and was delighted to find that it did not smell. Not even a little bit. (A dash of good luck, at last!) I didn't worry about my hands being unsanitary as by this point, my whole body was covered in a slime consisting of sunblock & insect repellant lotion, sweat, rain, hay particles, dead gnats, spiderwebs, mud and gatorade. (Mmm!)

Taking a walk break to let my body catch up to me, I found that the bugs had more time to land on me and die in the slime. I could feel the impact of each tiny bug that made the mistake of landing on me. Eww. I started running again.

Pretty soon we reached a small clearing where the trees didn't completely block out the sky. "It's still day?!?" It was.

We passed a few more little clearings and Sam rode ahead into one to snap a picture of me in action, taking advantage of the natural light. I'm sure I looked exquisite in my slimy coat. We'll see when he sends it to me. (Right? You're sending it to me? Don't be offended I'm calling you Sam. This is me protecting your identity from the masses on the internets.)

It wasn't long before we came up on a bigger clearing, and just then we heard a honk and looked up to the road on the other side of the path from the canal. It was the coach and the team captain making their way to the next checkpoint. They yelled some encouragement and my instinct was to throw them the metal horns as I tried to yell 'Rock on!' but instead let out some kind of ungodly grunt. Or maybe I was even yelling. Who knows? The adrenaline got going again and I was trucking along nicely. Not a minute later, we passed some more trees and saw a parking lot up ahead.

I didn't want to get ahead of myself and I certainly didn't feel like I had run 10 miles... so I told myself that it wasn't the right one. "There must be 4 more parking lots, we have to pass, right?"

"Yeah, sure. That's the coach waiting up there waving his arms at us."

"REALLY!!??"

"Really."

I was pretty proud of myself. 10 miles... or so I thought. Sam checked the trusty Pacerunner305 and it turned out to be just shy of 8 miles. 7.86 or something like that. I felt pretty cheated. I didn't even do the distance I would have otherwise done at the group long run this morning! Cheap.

I stretched a little and sucked on some watered down gatorade. Coach and Sam took off on the next 4-mile leg. We had to move two cars, so I got to joyride in Sam's fun little Subaru. It's a stick shift with turbo, so you can bet it was a fun ride over to the next checkpoint. Those rolling hills and narrow, narrow roads were a lot more fun this way. (A lot of things are more fun when you're not running anymore and you're driving a fucking CAR, no?)

The coach was supposed to also run the next 4-mile segment that I would bike, but Sam and I were both feeling good and Coach still looked like he needed to hurry up and die to end the misery. So we volunteered to run it for him and each took two miles running and two miles on the bike. It was very dark by this hour and nowhere near a real city, so there was none of the ambient light I am accustomed to. I was fighting off the spooks the whole way. Sam decided it was a good time to joke about the Blair Witch Project. Ha.... ha. Not funny. I just focused on the spot my headlight lit up right in front of me and tried to concentrate my attention on taking the next step and not twisting my ankle on a camoflauged twig. (I twisted them both 2-3 times each, but no sprains or anything, thank goodness.)

The bike was a bigger adventure because I was supposed to be the steady helpful one, but it was too big for me and I probably almost rode off into a gully (or the canal!) about a dozen times. Man, was it dark.

When we came upon the next checkpoint, our car caravan of relief wasn't there waiting for us. We tried a cell phone but kept getting voicemail. Reception is spotty out that far. We checked the parking lot signs. That's the one. Where are they? Another guy asked us who we were with as he was waiting for his own team to arrive behind us. We sat around in the parking lot waiting for quite a while. My stomach started eating itself. The asphalt was bruising my tired ass. Where the hell were they? We saw a couple of bikes fly past along the trail and wondered why two people would be riding at this hour and not be part of Tom's Run.

Finally, after about half an hour, we got them on the phone. There was another lot--same number--about a quarter mile further down the trail.

Oh. God.

So Sam took off running and I mounted up again. We finally got there and figured out the whole mess. We thought something might have happened to them. They thought we must have been injured. Those two bikers we saw had been looking for us in case we needed help. Then we had to wait for them to cover the whole 4 miles and back and explain what had happened all over again. We had lost the half hour we gained during my surprise-it's-short segment and then some. Everyone had been awake for hours. I had been at work all day and Coach and the captain has been at this since midnight the night before. I was finally headed home, but for them the night was just beginning.

Sam drove me back to where my rental car was parked as I munched on two dry cheese topped bagels. They were officially the most delicious thing to ever touch my lips. I'm sure it was the delirium making me think that anyway. Then I drove the hour and forty minute drive home with the music blaring to keep me awake. My ass and lower back were aching and I couldn't seem to sit comfortably. When I returned the car to its spot, I had to walk ten minutes past a bunch of drunk, happy college students to get back to my building. I wanted to punch all those jolly drunkards in the face, but that's just me and my jealousy. The pain in my legs may have contributed to this feeling as well. Regardless, there was definitely ten minutes of wanting to punch faces and then home sweet home.

Of course I still had to clean out my fuel belt bottles and then take a shower so I wouldn't gunk up my bed. The shower was difficult. I just wanted to stand under the water, but I had to soap myself. My knees and ankles were raging at me and I could barely stand anymore. I finally collapsed into bed right around 3am and woke up to a call from Sam at noon. He was waiting for the others at the finish and just wondered if I was there.

Walking is painful, but it was all so worth it.

The ibuprofen and ice packs help, too.

Labels: aggression, beautiful place to live, canal towpath, Coach, long run, Sam, Tom's Run, violent urges