Happy Saturday :),
It’s 2:20 AM. I’m camping in the Mataqua mountains, and I can’t sleep. I’m going to start the longest run I’ve ever attempted in 10 minutes, and frankly, I have a mix of excitement and worry that I’m not strong enough to finish it.
I’ve always wanted to run my age but have never gotten around to it until now. I’m turning 40, and now seems like a better time than any to attempt a straight run until my watch matches my age.
After some stretching, I take off, and gratefully it’s a full moon. I’m able to run in the moonlight easily without using my headlamp.
The mountains are a mix of up and down hills over rocks and soft dirt. I planned this part of the leg knowing it would be a very gradual downhill the first 12 miles.
They fly by pretty quickly, and my first checkpoint is the reservoir outside of where I live. I’m feeling good, although a bit sore as you would expect. I don’t really know at what point I will start to give out physically, but I push those thoughts out of my head.
The next part of my run is from the reservoir to Veyo. It will comprise 18 miles over some pretty steep terrain. There isn’t any way to get to Veyo without going over mountains, but 10 of those 18 miles are downhill, so I’m optimistic.
Somewhere around mile 26, I remember because it was marathon distance, I started hallucinating. I would see cow tracks and think they were deer tracks. I would stop to walk backward without realizing it and have to make up ground. There is a stream that runs along the dirt road I was running, so after about mile 20, I was able to do ice dips to keep my muscles from cramping too badly.
When running this kind of distance, you have to keep fueling yourself. I use everything from peanut butter to gels and occasionally a Snickers bar, but I digress.
At mile 28, I was about out of drive. I was hurting, and something was wrong with my feet. I was just a couple of miles from the Veyo turn, and then there they were.
My wife had hiked in 3 miles from where she could leave her car to meet me along with all four of my kids.
The tears came without shame and uncontrolled. I stopped long enough to tell them I loved them and try to show my appreciation before continuing, worried that stopping would put me out.
I was supposed to finish the last 10 miles after some rest, but with the issues I was having in both feet, I was worried that stopping would be a permanent thing.
I was now at the bend where there was a nice ice-cold river I could sit in. I was alone, watching my wife talk to others who were supporting me. Two of my friends and my son planned to run the last 10 with me, and they are some of the most positive guys I know. I had planned for them on purpose, knowing I would need the positive support.
The last 10 miles were the worst by far. The pain in my feet was unbearable, and my legs had gone to constant cramp status. I couldn’t eat or drink anymore, and along with all that, my vision was blurry. I was able to stop at another reservoir and soak while hearing my support crew quietly talk about how I was faring.
With only 5 miles left, it took everything I had to keep moving. Every mile seemed to take an hour, and gratefully, my crew was all too happy to let me take my time.
With 2 miles left, the pain was so intense that something just snapped in me. I started running as fast as I could and found that at 38 miles, 2 out of the 4 guys weren’t able to keep up with me.
I was crying uncontrollably now, and my poor friend Ben kept encouraging me, probably worried that I had lost my entire mental fortitude.
When my watch beeped, it was right at a bend in the road where my wife, who had been following, could pull off and let me lay my head inside the driver’s window.
We found out later that both feet had been fractured in multiple places, probably around mile 28, and I was suffering from dehydration and mild hypothermia.
I wanted to do something hard for me, but also for my children and my wife. I wanted to show them I still had the stuff.
Doing hard things has always been an important part of who I am. I know that if I purposely do hard things, then when other difficulties out of my control arise, I know I’ve done worse.
The hidden story here though isn’t about doing hard things. In fact, it isn’t about me at all.
My wife had planned a surprise party for me, complete with guests, themes, games, food, a massive production.
I, of course, didn’t realize it, being a dummy, and planned this 40-mile run on a whim. She never said a word and changed her plans completely to work with my goal. She stayed up most of the night I was running and left at unheard-of hours with all of my children to show me support.
She was injured badly with her knee and hiked close to 6 miles to meet me when I would most need the mental and emotional support.
She drove behind me a great deal of the run with flashers blaring to the impatient drivers wanting to run me over.
On top of my other mess-up, I was supposed to run my last 10 miles through NewCastle, but as I mentioned, I didn’t think I could stop and start again.
She had again planned a big surprise with many of the people in town having my face printed on cardstock they could hold up while I passed their houses. She had hundreds of these printed up and distributed just so that I could mess things up yet again and be a no-show.
Again, she never said a word.
After the race, she had arranged for a massage to help my destroyed muscles, which turned into a hot rock massage due to slight hypothermia that had set in from constant bathing over 9 hours in ice water.
When all was said and done, she still had another party planned for me at our church, where she had again food, a custom cake, friends, photo ops, and a ton more planned for me. She never once said this was the third party she had planned.
The reason I said this wasn’t about me is simply because after being married 18 years, I know this story is one I want my kids to remember about their mother and one word:
Loyalty
Yes, she loves me. But she is loyal. She doesn’t need praise and is happy to support me in everything I set my mind to. She’s always been this way, and I’m betting always will be.
I have been far from a perfect husband, and through it all, she has remained loyal and the definition of “a spouse anyone would be lucky to have.”
So my letter, albeit very long this week (sorry), has a simple ending. Which is that I hope everyone can experience a friend who is as loyal as my wife.
And I hope we can try harder to be just as loyal, trusting, and grateful for those we have in our lives, who stick around and don’t bring up our annoyances and shortcomings even if they have every right to.
Until next time, take care,
– Joseph
