You put a lot of work into getting not far enough…
For the past year I wanted to do a hundred miler again. But since being injured, I lost my long running legs. I deferred Black Hills 100 in June, was just not ready after being injured after Galena Sky, and then backed out of Eastern States, also just not mileage ready, and that was in August. From that point on, I gathered longer miles, doing Badger Marathon and Ice Age Trail 50 miler, which was about 3 weeks before Hennepin. Miles are miles right? All my regular training runs were either IAT50 oriented or just flat rail trail. My last two longish runs before IAT50 made me sore in the quads though, I guess from starting to bike a lot more? It made the 50 miler tough. Though I still felt ok going into Hennepin with the training I had.
Skipping ahead since I wrote my last entry 3 weeks ago, I nabbed a hotel in Iowa for Hennepin. The nicest/closest one I could get given I waited until the week of to reserve. All hotels in Rock Falls/Sterling, IL were booked up solid (the starting line location). Hennepin 100 is a course that starts in Sterling, IL and heads south along a canal trail and then heads east for a while and cuts back on itself to finish more westward in the small town of Colona, IL just next to the boarder of Iowa (the reason I was in Iowa, it was near the finish and packet pickup). I figured I wouldn’t have to stress about driving to the start after packet pickup anyway, though would still have to drive there earlier in the morning. The whole trail is flat and always has the canal next to it. What I did not remember was how much of it was actually crushed limestone, or my definition of it…
Hung out at packet pickup, heard Cory Reese speak (amazing, and actually makes me a bit more nervous about Vol State next year haha), and picked out a new Rabbit tech shirt that I instantly planned on wearing for the race. Nothing new on race day sure.
I had packed several jacket options with the threat of rain in the forecast, my INB shorts, a few shirt options, several pairs of different socks ranging from Balega, to Feetures, to XO skin. I packed several shoe options as well not knowing when my feet would need a change. I packed my ultragam gaitors and all the antichafe products in the world. I tried to keep things simple for nutrition; orange slice gummies, salt chews, both of those packaged in plastic bags ahead of time, various little Debbie cakes, emergency Pedialyte, 6 pack of cream soda dr. pepper, and banana milk. I ended up using all of those up except the Pedialyte and cakes.
After packet pickup (and will say solid expo for a trail race), Megan and friend Kristin (from pacing me at virtual Badger 100) headed out to a local restaurant called Café on the Lake. The locals were super friendly and asked to be put in contact with the RD of the race to offer food next year at packet pickup! With some good fried chicken in the belly, Rich and I headed to the hotel to sleep. Only thing I had forgotten was a buff for my headlamp the following evening. Bought that at the expo.
Woke up at 2:40am to use the restroom. Actually had managed to fall asleep within the hour at the hotel. However, after waking, the room felt stuffy to me (bad air circulation from the outside and used only inside air) despite being a comfy temperature, and brain proceeded to over think everything until 5:20am when I decided to get up and leave for the start line. Hey at least sleep was had for a while!
The drive to the start was without incident, but a bit more traffic that I would have imagined. I arrived at Sinnissippi Park at dark early enough to hang out and grab my timing ankle chip. I ate a snickers bar on the way there and was ready to head out. I met up with Sid, and Jenny, and a few others. It was 70°F already and humid as a bowl of water. I put myself around the middle of the starting crowd of the 100 and 50 milers present. And that’s about where I stayed! Everyone seemed to line up with their paces despite not being told to do so. Heavenly!
Michele, the RD, blew the airhorn and we were off. The start of the race winds through Rock Falls and eventually dumps out into the countryside. The light was filtered through clouds overhead. The first section of trail was solid pavement, and when I say solid, I mean maintained and firm. And hilly? I guess this is where all the elevation gain is. I didn’t see anyone I knew for the first few miles, Sid trailing behind me and eventually passing me when I asked about his intervals. Sid was having a good time! It was quiet and refrained from using my music. The first few miles were much slower than my effort I was putting in sadly, and I knew right off this was going to be a tough day to perform so I instantly dropped all my goals and moved on. No hard feelings there, just honest truths. And I knew why too.
Unfortunately, the few days leading up to Hennepin I was getting monthly visitor warnings in full. The days leading up I also tried to prevent a lot of those symptoms with various methods, knowing nothing can really stop them. Hormones suck. My chest (physically, externally, as lightly as I can put it without outright saying so) was heavy and a burden, which never happens except during this time. I was fighting cramping internally. My heart rate was higher than it should have been, which really threw a wrench into my plans of going by heart rate for the race. I was emotional before mile 70 was even close. I was sluggish and felt like I was dragging my feet the whole time. And my paces reflected that. I had much more successful runs the prior week at lower effort ☹
Somewhere around mile 4 though, Nicole, who had paced me a bit during my North Country Trail Wisconsin FKT, popped up behind me and started to chat. We decided to stick together. I knew I was much, much slower than her at most everything, but she was determined to have a good time at this race; her first 100! I knew I wanted to be a bit conservative, so I took my time a bit at aid stations with crew. I first saw Rich at mile 14, got some banana milk in me and half a soda bottle. I also took soda from the aid stations, like 2 to 3 cups per.
Ok so the first aid station had the best thing ever: partially frozen grapes, stuffed into little baggies. I was in and out so much faster, and the grapes were DEVINE at that temperature. I was already soaked through my shirt and shorts by the first aid station. It was so utterly humid, and I knew it wasn’t going to clear up. I would live in sweat forever. I started the race with tailwind in my pack. I moved to gnarly when I was out. I admit I went through a lot of it and was emptying my pack between nearly every aid station, at least 1 liter per hour I’d say. One of the next aid stations had little animals to take with you (the Zoo aid station). I took a tiger, because of the Eurobeat song Tiger, it spoke to me. Nothing else monumental to say about much except I walked a little at times between 20 and 28 trying to relax. Saw Natalie at her aid station and wondered where all the kids were. Loved her answer and smiled. Saw Marc Henn helping his runner out and said hi. Saw so many faces along the way too. Got in front of Sid, then Sid got in front of me. Found Paige running along the same paces and Val too. Val was speedy! The first major aid station was at mile 32 and the first timing mat. Came in under 7 which was ok enough.
Mile 32 is the 50k start line. Also where my one pacer Melissa showed up! I decided I’d check my garmin battery level. I was impressed it was at 80%, so my configuring of power use was working. I wasn’t going to hold my breath, and completely planned on switching to ultratrack mode if I got the 2 hour low battery warning. At mile 32 I decided to change shoes and socks. My feet were soaked with sweat, and my socks were drenched despite still no real rain (we got sprinkled on a bit but nothing that would have even helped wipe the salt off). I used hand sanitizer to dry them, but moisture was just not coming out. I did not reapply 2toms or any glide to my feet. I am not sure if this was a mistake. I switched from using the Altra Timps to the Olympus. I wish I had had more Timps however. They were working wonderfully. The tongue of the new Olympus shoes cut into my skin the next few miles despite putting antichafe there for prevention ahead of time. 32 was major for me, I planned on reapplying more antichafe everywhere and taking a vitamin that I would hope prevent my feets’ nerves from getting all frizzy like they did at badger. This took time, but I knew an ounce of prevention, and you know how the saying goes. I had reapplied some Vaseline to my back earlier actually when I started feeling the hot spot, but it was already making its way into the skin (the pack). I used diaper rash cream since I knew I was just going to keep on sweating. I missed the underwear line, and this would cost me later. I had a small grilled cheese, and I struggled like I was fighting life itself to chew it and swallow. Nothing digestively to complain about, just really did not want to eat bread. The next two stretches were the longest of the race back to back, a 5.7 and 6.6 mile stretch.
The one thing that I absolutely did not like about this course was how straight it was, and a lot of the aid stations being so very far apart. Even at a faster pace, it would take me an hour in-between most. I didn’t want to think about walking that…
By mile 20 my quads were feeling it, just like Ice Age. But they didn’t get worse until around mile 65 when my calves joined the tightness party.
Nicole found a few frogs and tried to pick up this aggressive little brown snake, and when I say little it was SO tiny. We cleared the trail of walnuts and critters as we went. The sun came out on the stretch before Hennepin State Park, the Ten Junk Miles aid station. It really was all it was cracked up to be. The pulled pork was there waiting for me. The music, the best. Holly was there with her energy and utter talent at volunteerism. I managed more banana milk and soda here too. This is where I started noticing the trail.
The trail before TJM aid station was rather soft and quite nice. We got a few sprinkles of rain there too. Again, nothing actually wet. The trail after TJM was aggressive crushed limestone. Like back home, we had gravel driveways of limestone, the grey kind that sometimes turns nicer colors in the rain. It was like that. And exposed. The sun decided to come out for a bit, so we walked when the sun was out to save ourselves a bit. It was a good relationship. I had briefly thought about if the UV index was high enough to burn (the wondering ended when I got in the shower and saw my tan lines a bit more red). I had decided against the UV protection shirt since it was going to be mostly raining/cloudy and would feel much heavier when drenched with sweat. Could have used sunscreen but this was the only time the sun shone.
One of these stretches did not have a restroom at their aid station, but I forget which…I actually had to go for the first time and also take care of some chafing. Nearly to the mile 44 aid station, there was a sign that said restrooms, and I knew this is something Michele posted about the previous day and took the path off the trail and said I would catch up with Nicole later. While in the restroom there, I did notice some bad chafing spots I would need to take care of at the next aid station. I also noticed there was only one tissue left and no toilet paper. I put the empty packet of tissues on the toilet seat so no one would be surprised after me if there was no toilet paper before doing business.
I came into aid at mile 44. I worked on my feet again, deciding against the Olympus shoes cutting into my ankles too much and switched to the wide lone peaks with the softer tongue. I knew this was my last pair of thicker shoes, so once I changed to these, I was stuck with them. I applied the 2toms after drying the feet out. My Timps were soaked in sweat still with no way of drying them. I looked around for Nicole but didn’t see her, I figured she was doing something like changing or had moved on. I treasured the miles we shared and kept that with me. I ran the majority of the next few miles to see if I could catch up. I knew my messing with feet put me behind every time. I saw Sid come in behind me and it was the last time I saw him.
I popped out my music for the first time and jammed out a bit. The next short stretch, of merely just over 5k, there was a random unofficial aid station that had clementines and grapes! I couldn’t say no, they were super friendly folk that looked to be just a family hanging around a small tent. I took some to go and kept walking to eat. I broke into a run, and the same higher heart rate still proceeded to show up. I felt good around sunset. I flew into mile 47 aid, which was massive. They had some good stuff let me tell you. They had a menu board that at least consisted of veggie soup, chicken noodle soup, and mac n cheese. I had the chicken noodle soup with 4 ice cubes (the 4 ice cubes is important to note because it really did hit that sweet spot of still really warm but not cooled off). I had some good calories here and headed out with my headlamp in hand in case I didn’t make it back before dark with my pacer Melissa.
Melissa is chatting and has tons of stories. She kept me in check. We arrived at the final aid station, which I was told not to expect much at, at 50 miles, a bit slower than my IAT50 time which bummed me out a bit. We ran past the aid station to get to the 100 mile turn around and came back to tacos. Now I really didn’t want any bread product (and this is true any point in the race really) but they had some rockin’ pulled chicken which I took with me on the go as well as some watermelon. They had plenty at their aid station and were great faces. I walked quickly back towards Lock 17 where Melissa had started pacing eating the chicken. It was hard to get it in quickly. This is basically where I lost the ability to run for various reasons. I thought I was making excuses, but things started to cascade quickly and slowly all at the same time.
Since sometime in the mid 30 miles, I broke into a very successful quarter mile walk and run alternating to try and keep my heart rate down. I had no complaints. I continued the same after having run most of the last 3.5 miles with Melissa, but sunset killed me.
The final mile of the out and back got dark enough to use a headlamp. I got my buff (which was a half buff that was in the car because he could not find my buff I had purchased, which I had no idea was even IN my car) to wrap around my head to put the headlamp on. I had a few pieces of mac n cheese here, but it was a no from me sadly. I had veggie and chicken noodle soup (which had made its way to become ramen soup instead). The cooled soups helped me get it in fast. I had another vitamin here since I had stuff in my stomach to help digestion. My feet were troubling. I hand sanitized them and switched to XO skin socks at this point thinking there would be rain overnight and didn’t want the thicker socks I had (plus thicker socks holding in moisture more). I got word of maceration on my right. I put a blister pad on it. It was a bit small (which bit me in the end, hard like a stabbing hot knife in fact, and I should have bought more for the event), but it had to do. I continued to solider on stomping on it. I walked a lot out of aid stations to try and aid digestion. Overall, I had no GI complaints the entire time. If I ran with too full a stomach, I would walk until it settled. The maceration hurt at first even with the blister pad, but it eventually settled.
The next stretch wasn’t bad. The lights leading up to the unofficial aid station were inviting and celebrated the clementines again. I looked forward to the TJM aid station with the pork again. We arrived and I poured salt on the pork. YES THIS IS THE WAY. The salt hit like a million bucks. I had banana milk and enjoyed hitting 100k under 16 hours. The next 6.6 miles would take me down…
Digesting like I did after leaving the aid station, my run intervals stopped. Mainly because of my feet. I had some nerve pain shove its way into my pain vision. I say that because although a lot is painful, you are usually focused on one of the sources and not all of them going on. So what’s the worst? Feet. Yes. This is where I remembered things backwards. The trail between TJM (mile 39/62) and Lock 21 (mile 44/57) was the most dirt and soft path, and the trail after between TJM and Pineapple aid station (mile 32/69) was nearly all limestone rock and some pavement and mix. Our feet just were sore from that. It was slow going. The highway traffic annoyed me. We arrived at Pineapple glad to be done with the 6.6 mile leg and the whole eastern side of the course was behind me. I hurt. I had some soup and was unhappy. I grabbed a new shirt from Rich here and my jacket just in case. I was completely convinced I would get cold at night, even though I was still soaked in sweat and not cold at all. I actually liked the trail heading out from Pineapple a bit more scenery wise if you can say that at night. But I had my first breakdown melty of having to walk and feeling bad for Melissa that I was not doing much like I had planned. I got over it when we came upon a guy whose headlamp was out and he was trying to change batteries in the dark. I lent him my light as we stayed stopped. He apologized for keeping me, but I paid no mind to being stopped. Helping someone else helped my mood. I got out of my funk for a while.
My right was ok, I had managed to squelch the nerve pain for the time being, but my left had all of a sudden taken the plunge to join my right foot. I slapped a blister pad on that and moved on. Somewhere between all these place, everything from my hips down was chafed up and hurting. My shorts and undies had stored up enough salt in its fiber arsenal to split my skin open in several places. I could barely walk. I felt like I could run, but I couldn’t walk. I cried some more. I messaged Rich and brainstormed with Melissa who would possibly have an extra pair of shorts. These were still soaked even after hours of walking and hardly any sweating going on, that’s how humid it remained all day and night. The only person I could think of around that was even remotely my bottom size was Megan, who had recently finished her 50k in record time! Hearing that news really brightened me up. Megan somehow had an extra pair of INB shorts for me. I had an extra pair of undies too. I know I needed to make it 9 more miles to get fresh shorts. As a surprise, Melissa said right before we reach the next aid station, that Rich was there with the shorts. I saw him and a nice porta to change at. It was instant relief, but I saw the damaged skin. This was going to be a long healing process. I reapplied Vaseline this time, not diaper rash cream. Had I not had new shorts, I would have had to drop soon if not there. I was crawling at that point to make pace. I forced two quesadillas down (and they were warm) and hated every second of it, but my stomach was actually growling for real food.
Don’t forget Arturo, one of my favorite smiling people. Coming into that aid, I wanted him to come with me when I left. He was down, I could tell. I wasn’t sure why, but wanted nothing more than for him to come along. I got him up but I think he went back after I left and dropped. The night time brought another weird challenge, and I swear we didn’t hallucinate. Flying spiders I tell you. Every few seconds, one to three spider webs would catch somewhere on us, most on the arms and face. My arms got more of a workout at this point wiping in frustration. We wondered if we should google flying spiders. That had to be a thing right? There was literally no where for a spider to build a web across… no trees, no fences. It made me think of how sore my arms were around the 50k mark, and how much better running felt than hiking. That soreness was mostly either now dissipated or replaced with a stronger soreness (cough quads cough calves cough cough). I longed to go back to the hours where I could quarter mile run. My low wasn’t going anywhere.
Every two miles I would have two orange gummy slices, and occasionally salt chews. I drank every mile. I started needing to pee past every aid station and every mile thereafter. Nutrition liquid wise was off. My miles slowed as the pain in my feet grew. I started using guardrails at trail/road intersections to stretch out my quads. They were so insanely tight they were slowing even my walk down. Drizzle happened a few times, but I really lucked out with no rain…or did I? Rain would have rinsed out the sweat/salt combo possibly. All what-ifs.
Arriving at mile 75, I was nearly done for. But the sun would rise soon, and I was looking forward to it. This pushed me on. Melissa hit her distance PR! I was happy for her as we chatted about her upcoming 50 miler, and by chat, I mean I didn’t talk much. At this point, I couldn’t find the focus outside of managing my pain to even speak. Every step meant mentally focusing on containing my pain to myself. Sometimes it would come out if I stepped on a piece of gravel wrong. I apologized. I was at the bottom of my barrel. But I was moving. I was doing so much math. My plans on finishing were diminishing but not gone. I could still finish under cutoff, and I know I could still finish after too, though would be an official DNF at that point. I just wanted to cover the course. But seeing my finish goal for a PR get demolished into sub 28, to sub 29, to sub finish and beyond was demoralizing. That is not what kept me in my negative mood though. I knew I could ride this wave out. I had to…
The sun rose. I counted down the half hours until it did. It was beautiful and looking back felt bad about not taking it in more than I did, more determined for forward movement than a sunrise. That was mile 86 or thereabouts. I would get to the next aid station and switch shoes again and head out with every ounce I had in me. I just didn’t know what would happen next would drain me of more than what I had left. One step is all it took. It was like a searing jagged knife got stabbed into my foot as the maceration broke open. For miles before I could feel the maceration just at 90-100%, unlike when I had put the blister pads on them, which held off a majority of the pain (like down to 10-15% painful). I screamed and immediately bit my thumb to try and hold in the pain. I broke out crying it hurt so utterly badly. Like when I had torn my meniscus for the 2nd time, I knew it was over. There was nothing I could do. Melissa grabbed me, I don’t think fully understanding how much pain I was in at the time, but did what she could. She was strong. We hobbled our way, me in tears, the half a mile to the aid station at mile 88.
I immediately got help to a chair and heat source. Although I still never got cold, I knew I would be sitting contemplating life, for an hour. I hit mile 88 just over 24 hours in. I had a little less than 6 hours to make it less than 12 miles. It was so feasible. So obtainable and yet not at all. I freaked out that a blister on my foot had appeared where I never had one. There actually wasn’t one there (I did not find out until after I officially dropped), but it was the blister pad all balled up on the side of my foot. I cried and cried. I did not come this far and sacrifice this much to CHOOSE to stop. But was the choice really made for me by my body. It would be disrespectful to my body to not stop there, or would it? I was already that beaten up, taken down by humidity, like I have so many times in the past. The difference being, those distances were much shorter, and I got away with it sort of (the oozing I experienced during just a half marathon was the worst I’d ever had and I could not prevent things from sticking to that ooze…it was a nightmare—noting also caused purely by humidity, and poor clothing choices).
I texted with Megan desperately for a mind of reason. There was no correct choice at this point. I did not want to be labeled as a quitter. So many others continued on as I sat there. Why couldn’t I be one of them? What was so wrong with me that I couldn’t just go? I reached out to Melissa, my athlete and friend, who came in asking if she was still running. She said she was, so I remained seated. No one seemed to be suffering as I did. Melissa was done with pacing. The next two sections were very long, a 5.2 after a 6.6. If I started that 6.6 after mile 88, I could not just drop between, no, the section was too long. That was a huge risk. What if I couldn’t walk? I couldn’t walk as it was. Not on my own power.
I decided to change shoes. I took my socks off and things were ok blister wise, but my ankles were cut up and when air hit the skin it burned deep, and I cried out in pain. I couldn’t go back to the Olympus which would be thick enough that the gravel wouldn’t impact me as much or the maceration. But when I tried to stand, I couldn’t bear weight. I bawled my eyes out. I was stuck. I dropped. Colona was out of reach.
12 miles is nothing. But it was everything right then. An insurmountable mileage in my condition that even given I would possibly finish after the cutoff, would mean 6 more hours of taking steps, each one that might end me with the left foot rupturing as well. With no more blister pads, I had run out of options. I know from experience that maceration can continue to rupture in the same sharp 11/10 pain scale events, as it did at Habanero 100 where I experienced it for the first time and also fought past my limit until I could continue no more.
I went to the doctor on Monday because I had some bad pain in the top of my foot, and a little discoloration to go with it. That bothered me enough to get the mystery ball of what injury is this, rolling. After an X-ray, I have some soft tissue damage there on the 4th metatarsal, but could still be a stress fracture or extensor tendonitis. I did not feel this until an hour after I dropped and tried to actually move to use the restroom and change. I am pursuing avenues in which to further prevent the maceration, since it seems to be an interesting kind, isolated to the forefoot and runs really deep and cracks deep. I would think with trench foot and other macerations, that more than just that area of my foot would be affected, so I am going to seek out more solutions. I know I ended up tying my shoes tighter and tighter through the race to prevent my foot from sliding in my shoes. This has happened most races as my feet don’t tend to swell during the ultra. In fact, the volunteer at the mile 88 aid station saw my naked feet and was REALLY surprised about how not swollen they were and was instantly confused. Maybe I do need to try double socks, or taping (though have tried before and the tape just comes off from sheering type forces by my running form.
Let’s talk about what went right then?
I had a lot of fun with Nicole and rode it out feeling out the pace for the first 50 miles and didn’t even feel necessarily unfresh at mile 62! Switching to the intervals helped move things along later, and some longer running stretches would have been nice had monthly interruptions not been a thing. My nutrition was really great. I balanced about 250-350 calories at the aid stations and kept using gnarly in-between. I walked out to digest every time and kept the stomach happy. I know I needed more salt with that sweat rate and never cramped or had much hand swelling like I would without salt. I ate fruit when the aid stations had it, and forced some small solid foods throughout, although hating every single chew, I think it kept my GI happier than it ever has been during AND post race. I normally have more issues post race than during. The Altra Timps were the star on this trail. If I were to use the Olympus in the future, I would need to tape the front of my ankle. Even high socks don’t seem to prevent the tongue of that shoe from eating into my skin. This has now happened in too many training runs and races to ignore. The Rabbit shirt I got brand new did work. No chafing from it, and I didn’t feel like it weighed me down or felt that nasty living in it for 69 miles. The vitamin I think helped with the feet. My watch settings. I changed the settings on my Fenix 6, and it still had battery left when I dropped. I could drop the heart rate sensor too and probably gain more battery life but one of my focuses in this race was to not stress heart rate, so I needed to keep an eye on it.
What did not work. My prevention. Normally it’s fine, but for some reason, drying my feet out did not dry my feet out enough, despite trying several times. My blister pads did not stay on like before, so the Dr. Scholl’s brand is a no go for the future. Compeed was the brand, and I will spend what it takes to get those, they are also larger. I used every chafe prevention I had. I had 3 types of diaper rash creams, some titanium based. I had Vaseline, I had A&D (white and gel), some other brand I actually like for the undercarriage which did work for that, trail toes, and Melissa had Aquaphor. I smeared the diaper rash cream on first notice of chafing on my shorts. The good thing I took from this was it seemed to have started healing the chafing before I dropped because my shower wasn’t nearly as bad as it has been in the past, and these two days following, I hardly notice it though you can clearly see how bad it still is. No amount of anything helped the inner thigh one I got, and I have no idea how or why I got it since I have never had the “chub rub” spot chafe with actual clothing between skin and cloth. Nothing also helped the back one I got from the pack which I reapplied every 10 miles or so and started EARLY. However, like the other areas, it seems it started healing while I was running despite still being in an area of contact. My undies that had worked for several other events ended up eating into my skin. I am assuming all of this was because of my salt in my sweat and how much I was sweating in general. I did not bring a back up pair of shorts. Error. I packed lighter than I would have normally, so left out the shorts. I had planned to bring a pair of pants for the “cooler” evening (which never happened) but forgot them. I would not have been able to wear the pants alone anyway.
I’ve gone through my head over and over again what I could have done. But there is no answer. And that’s very hard for me to accept. I suppose I will be in this funk for a while. I really wanted that buckle but couldn’t make it happen. I know I can’t blame myself, I used everything available to me to prevent a DNF, and it was not a smart thing to do to keep going. I need to respect what my body can do and respect its limitations when they occur. I am probably not cut out for flat and “fast”. I think about it a lot that even being on a harder course for longer periods of time, it still doesn’t even feel as long as some flat races have felt. It’s all perspective. Using one gear for that long is hard. There is no easy 100. Seeing the aid station being over half a mile away can be either inspirational or demoralizing. You make that mental choice, and I was on both sides of that coin at some point.
I had a small crew of Rich and Melissa. Rich is a blessing every time. I always just want to be in his arms at the end. Melissa ended up learning a lot and was the sole thing that kept me moving when I didn’t want to move. I felt like she made my time out there worthwhile and can’t wait to give back to her one day. I don’t know what is going to happen now. Where do I belong?
iRunMountains 