Well, what a ride the past thee weeks have been. Three weeks ago, I was thinking about MMT but with Wasatch goggles on, which is to say I was overtraining for MMT by a lot. I had run myself down to a bloody little nub as an ultra person is wont to do in peak training weeks. Unlucky move this time. I found myself having a hard time focusing at school; the arc was giving me a headache, couldnt stay focused on my welds, and became frustrated with my lack of time to fit it all in. Then I mustve caught a little bug whilst not eating right. Said bug hung around long enough with my weakened immune system to sneak into my spinal column, probably via a quick neck adjustment or crack. Stayed out of school for a Friday and then the weekend but the eyes and headaches did not dissipate. 2 weeks ago then after that long weekend, I left for school but went to the Dr instead, who promptly stuffed me in the emergency room where I was told that I was presenting with spinal meningitis, though they couldnt tell I it it was viral or bacterial. So they ran the two spinal taps and ct scans to get the cultures they needed to determine viral /bacterial diagnosis, and I laid in solitary confinement for about 110 hours on the same gurney, in my overalls I tried to go to school in on Monday. No lights, sound, or touch could be experienced without immediate vomiting. So no food for 4+ days either. By Friday night the cultures hadnt grown anything, but i still felt terrible. Still no food since Sunday night. So, they kept me in isolation, but in a nicer room with a big window that I was terrified of. The Sat morning sun came in and I felt like one of The Lost Boys, wrapped in a blanket, shielding my eyes from solar radiation at all costs. I stayed migrane-y all weekend like that, forcing juice down, just trying not to lose to much weight, because, ya know, MMT was next weekend. By Monday, I started to worry about my school attendance which meant that I was feeling better. I was also concerned about MMT. Being a lottery, I treat an entry there like a gift, and I was going to make sure I was going to honor it in some fashion. Monday night I was 90% back on my feet. The bags of infused anti-bacterial/anti-viral had done the trick. Still no growth in the samples, so they determined it as non-responsive viral meningitis, and had me out by 4pm the Monday. I knew at that point it was just a matter of logistics to try to contend for a buckle in Virginia . But I hesitated. I HAD to re-examined my approach. To contend for a buckle, silver for sub-24 or otherwise, just seemed too damn shrewd. After being locked up for so long, I just wanted the sun and sky and green grass and my health and all of the other reasons we engage in this damn sport. The basic humanity of it all. Unfortunately as well, 4mg of morphine every 4 hours for a week as well as being locked up in solitary confinement left my emotions incredibly raw, and upon getting out I had very choice words for some that I had held back for far too long, but yet felt damn good to get off my chest. No reservations. So by thurs last week I got an invite to head down to VHTRC territory, with Julian Vicente, an enormously gifted runner and fellow Wasatch 13 vet. I got scooped by his crew buddy that was heading out into Jersey, and we piled into his suburban that was pointed south to VA. We showed up at normal time, Had some normal food, and had got some normal sleep. The next morning at 4 we, the runners took off into the night. It was chilly but normal, and once we got on top of the first main ridge line the moon shone down over my shoulder and lit the way until the morning sun came over and took over the task. It was glorious. I ran free all day and the course segments peeled away like the rind of an orange. Sometimes fast, easy, biggish 8 mi chunks, and other times difficult 3mi pieces you had to work for. Mi33 found me with a slight twinge in my IT band which I thought might produce a DNF call down the road, but once I got it rolled out and some KT tape on it, I rolled on to the various gaps and peaks that unfolded before me. After the night fell though at mi 50 the woods fell into a serious chill as did I, and the fording of the waist high rivers began to suck. The Massanutten Mountain trails became spillways and tributaries for the intense rain that had collected from the t-storms the day before and runners were left to fight- power hiking, most with pacers, others without, like myself -upstream a 1000 ft mountain like salmon looking to spawn. My knee was getting increasingly achy, which meant I was slowing badly, and getting colder. I began to experience the death rattle most commonly heard during the onset of bronchitis. I became nervous about hospitals again. I sat in the mud and examined my options. At that point I had managed 65 or so miles, and knew that after this I had a nice long trail and then road decent to mi 80. It would be light by then, and maybe the solar radiation that I had fought so hard against just earlier in the week would come quickly enough to provide some regenerative juice to my batteries. I cruised (hobbled) into 80mi then around 6, around 4hrs short of my (laughable) goal time, with no more iPod music, said death rattle and a violent chill. I was quickly put into a folding chair next to a warming campfire, from which I promptly evacuated to a completely horizontal position alongside a few other casualties of the evenings war. Just gimme 15 I said three times before I looked to the Grim Reaper, the runner accountability marshal and delivered a cou de gras to my festivities in the woods. My knee was just not going to allow me to summit the last three of thee fifteen mountains remaining in the course and since me and my knees are good friends at this point, I listened and agreed. I got scooped up and driven back to the start/finish area, where I collapsed amongst the other soldiers that had seen either early success or late failure with the difference still chipping away at the mountains they had come for, searching for peace in their own way and on their own terms. I saw three runners come in to finish, and my heart panged with a sense of regret for exactly 12.5 seconds before a polite fellow runner completely ensconced in a homemade quilt and folding chair and gave me a Peak Organic beer that was in fact the best beer Id ever had in my life. I passed out cold for about a hour in the bright morning sun, solar panels fully deployed as it were, until I was discovered by Julians crew member from NY with whom I came out with, and thrown into the back of the suburban pointed back home.
Posted on: Mon, 19 May 2014 07:14:38 +0000
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