Dateline – April 10, 2020
My body felt off so I eschewed my normal run for a six and a
half mile walk. I am always diligent
about getting my miles in especially on a weekend. I felt okay at first but a couple of miles in,
I started to feel tired and a cough creeped in. By the time I was a third of a
mile from home I was struggling. Me struggling? A man who had trained for the
50k at the Zion Ultras was now struggling with a simple walk around the
neighborhood. When I got in the house, I
collapsed in our family room and fell asleep exhausted. COVID had canceled the
Zion Ultras and now it had claimed me. My sixtieth birthday present to myself
was to travel to Utah to run in the 50k at the Zion Ultras but that present and
the dream that I talked about for a year was now dead.
I live in Northern New Jersey and in the spring of 2020 we
were a hotspot when COVID-19 first burst onto the scene. The distress that
gripped our area is hard to capture now but most of it was built on fear. A fear
that was well founded. Because it was obvious that we had little tools at our
disposal to use to battle the virus and deaths started to mount at an alarming
rate. However, I was lucky, I was not hospitalized despite being laid up with a
fever of over 102 degrees for eleven days, plus a persistent cough, aches, and
extreme fatigue. My wife was by my side (figuratively since it was COVID I
isolated myself in a room. Which I describe in early blogs.) taking care of me.
Fear gripped me, not that I would not recover but would I be
able to run again? Reports were coming out that there may be some long term
effects from COVID-19 especially with your lungs. I was determined to win this
battle not just to be okay but to be fit and run again. Not only to run but to
run an ultra. I was not only battling COVID-19 I was also battling Father Time
since I was sixty years old and running ultras in your sixties is not something
everyone does but it was my goal. It was my dream not to just run an ultra but
to run the Zion Ultra 50k. So, I began my journey to running, with slow short walks.
Those slow walks turned to slow runs. Then to steady,
frequent and longer runs. I was piling on the miles and in the year from when I
was hit by COVID I accumulated 2271 miles of walking and running about 800
miles more than I had ever done before.
Dateline - April 10, 2021 (exactly one year later)
I am at the starting line of the Zion Ultra 50k and it is cold, hovering somewhere in the low to mid-forties. I am excited and nervous which happens before every race. I feel strong and know I have the endurance to finish but six days before the race, a pain shot up in my ankle and my ankle swelled up. I rested it and then ran lightly two of the three days leading up to the race and while I could run I did feel it and was extremely worried that while it may be okay for a six mile run a thirty three mile run is quite another thing. I took some Ibuprofen before the race and brought some with me so the pain would not be too bad. The night before I couldn’t sleep because after a year of pushing myself with one goal in mind. I thought I might fall short because of an ill-timed orthopedic injury.
I felt like a winner at the starting line. With my Ibuprofen
in my pack I knew I would finish and maybe even have a shot at placing in my
age group. I felt strong and fit. Everything was completely different than
exactly one year ago except one thing. My wife was still by my side this time
literally giving me a hug at the starting line and offering me words of
encouragement. We all need someone by our side I thought even if they think
that you are a bit crazy. Maybe us crazy
people need the support even more, because we tend to choose the path less
traveled.
It was a rolling start and the 50ker’s could go out any time
between 7:00 and 7:30am a concession to COVID protocols to keep the crowd at
the starting line smaller. I chose the 7am time because I just wanted to get
started.
When I run a long distance that first mile always seems
uncomfortable like I am not in a rhythm.
This time was no different, Except that the scenery was already
spectacular. As we started I could see the sun rising over the mountains and it
was rejuvenating. I was excited and definitely running to fast but the course
at this point was slightly downhill and on a dirt road so I figured that I
would take advantage of this terrain because that would not always be the case.
We all soon fit into a steady conga line of runners when we hit the single
track up the Grafton Mesa only changing one runner at a time when runners
stopped for gear adjustments or like me stopping to take pictures and videos of
the dramatic vistas on top of the mesa.
I was running pretty steady through the race making steady
time sometimes slowing to walk after the mile 13 mark on the uphills to
conserve energy. About halfway through
the race I notice that a woman runner was just behind me. This is the nature of
ultras in that you will be running with someone for a long time. I stopped to eat a gel and drink some water
and she came upon me and said “Don’t stop you are keeping me going with your
pace!” I quickly took a drink of water and followed her and we stayed with each
other until mile 29 with us taking turns pacing each other and encouraging each
other and not too mention making sure we did not miss a trail marker and lose
the trail. Her name was Kira and she was
from San Diego, and she was a veteran of ultra races. She really kept my pace up and me moving
forward during some of the roughest parts of the course over the slick rocks of
Gooseberry Mesa. Without her encouragement, I definitely would have slowed
down.
There was one point on the race when I was at the end of a point on the Gooseberry Mesa with 360 degree views in which I said to myself “This is why I wanted to run this race.” I wanted to stand on top of a mesa and view the landscape of the Southwest. I took in the view with great satisfaction.
At about the 20 mile point I noticed a young man who was
sturdily built with a large beard. His name was Fletch. This is when I found out
that this 50K was a bit longer than the 31 miles it should be it was closer to
33 miles. The aid station that was to appear at the 22 mile mark appeared at
mile 24. Trail races by their very nature are not exact measurements but in
this case it was more a psychological obstacle as we were all moving aid
station to aid station and when the aid station is not there when you expect
it, it is a bit disheartening. We finally arrived at the aid station grumbling
to the poor volunteer that it was mismarked.
From mile 24 to 29 it was the three of us together. We
talked some, which is natural in an ultra. Fletch told us this was his first
ultra, Kira and I were veterans this was my sixth one and I told them that I didn’t do my first till the
age of fifty seven. He was shocked and asked “How old are you?” I told him
“sixty-one”. He said “Can’t wait to tell my parents who are in there sixties
and complain about just walking, that a sixty-one year old helped get me
through this race!”
At the last aid station, Kira left first smelling the finish
line and we never saw her again. I
looked at Fletch and said “You ready?” He wasn’t but that did not stop him. It
soon became apparent that he would have difficulty running because his leg
muscles had seized up on him and he was in pain. We mostly walked the last four
miles with some jogs place here and there.
We did talk and Fletch had his own journey to this ultra. He
had been in some dark and scary places in his young life but was now pretty
much out of them and this ultra was part of that journey to a good life. Fletch
and I were on the journey to the finish line together but our real stories was
about the journey to the starting line. That is true for all runners in any
race but especially ultra-runners. The journey to the starting line is often
more difficult than the journey to the finish line.
At one point when I know he was struggling I offered up some
very simple advice that helps me get through a tough race “Just keep moving
forward”. It is simple but it is amazing how many people just stop and feel
sorry for themselves.
My journey began laying on a couch with COVID. The next step
was first walking, then running and training never very far from my house with
over 2,000 miles of running and walking to get to the Zion 50k. I didn’t know
the details of Fletch’s journey but I know that it was not an easy one but I
could tell a couple of things about him. First, he was good and kind man.
Second, that he was tough and determined. His life journey would be a good one.
While as much as I like to think of myself as a “badass” for
completing the race I know that it was not a solo feat. The other runners on the course kept me
motivated and going. In addition, the race volunteers at the aid stations were
also amazing so they are also a part of the accomplishments of the runners.
When we were less than a mile from the finish line I said to
Fletch “We have to run through the finish line. It looks better than walking.”
At about a half a mile away we started to slowly jog and it felt great as a
small crowd of people scattered along the way cheered us on. We ran through the
finish line and there was my wife there to greet me, and meet my new best
friend. I even did get third place in my age group missing second by less than
two minutes.
Looking back I realized that yes I needed the assistance of
the other runners and the volunteers on the race, but I need the assistance and
love of my wife on the journey to the starting line and after the finish line.
Date Line April 11, 2021 (The day after)
My wife the next day asked me “So did the race live up to
your expectations? You have been talking about it for two years!” I said “Yes
it had”. The course was gorgeous and the other racers so encouraging.
My mind then began to wander to my next starting line. It is
the journey to the starting line, that keeps me motivated. If my battle with
COVID taught me anything, it is that don’t take life and your health for
granted. In life, like in an ultra, sometimes you just have to keep moving.
