To pick up where things left off, when I finished the Day 2 / 170 mile bike, I was sprawled out on the grass at the finish line, being tended to by Julie and a doctor, trying to determine the extent of my injuries caused by my bike crash. Honestly, I was just glad I had finished the day. I had not yet begun to entertain the prospect of the Day 3 52.4 mile run.
Julie, Alan and the boys hoisted me into our van and we followed Jason Lester and his crew Odie and Annette to the house in Hawi we rented for the night. They helped me unload and hauled me into a bath to clean my wounds. What I didn’t expect was a 2 story house — what were we thinking? I could barely make it up the steps — my legs were shot, my knee was aching, I could barely lift my left shoulder and worst of all — I was winded!
I cleaned up, forced some food into my system and bid goodbye to Jules, who headed back to Kona for the night. I told Jason that I really didn’t think I was going to run the next day. I couldn’t fathom it. He just shook his head. “Dude, you’re running.” My head sank. I knew I had to show up but with my knee barely mobile, how was this going to work?
I forced myself to submit to the punishment that is the ice bath, which served to numb my legs out sufficiently so I could ignore the pain for a bit. Then straight to bed. I’ll just see how I feel in the morning. I was out in 2 seconds.
The 4:30 alarm went off and I gingerly raised my body out of bed, flexing my knee and rotating my shoulder. There was pain for sure, but not enough that I could scratch the day with my head held up. I was going to have to show up and give it a go. As I walked downstairs I saw Jason, his head sagging in his cereal from exhaustion. “C’mon bro! Are we doing this or what! Get up! We got work to do! Let’s get to the office!” The motivational rant was more for me than for him, but it seemed to do the trick. he looked at me like “Who is this guy and what happened to Roll-dawg?”
We quickly fed ourselves and were out the door late on the way to the start. More rain, but that’s early am in Hawi. I knew it was going to be hot today.
We arrived at the start with a flurry of tension as we were the last to arrive. Julie, Alan, Mike Field and my stepson Trapper thought I had decided to bag it!
I rushed to the forming ritual prayer circle that commences the run each year. This is a beautiful ceremony that epitomizes Ultraman. As the competitors all held hands as elder blessed us, the Island and our journey with a culminating blow on the sacred conch shell, I began to well up in tears. This was not the plan. But I felt a deep growndswell of emotion — of the commitment to be here that was shouldered by my family. Of the pain I had suffered the day before. Of just how much this experience meant to me. Win, lose, finish or not, I had to give this day an honest try without excuses.
I shoved the pain away, lined up on the road and focused. Today is it. The conch shell sounded and we were off. Ribeiro, Kotland, Le Roux, Kregar and company shot off like it was a 400 meter dash. I honestly couldn’t believe it. Spinting away on a 52.4 mile run!?!? On the other hand, I began to jog very gingerly to ascertain how the knee would hold up. Some swelling and pain, but I think its going to be OK. For now.
I found a comfortable pace running in the cool pre-dawn alongside Shanna Armstrong, whose happy-go-lucky chatter kept me entertained for the first 8 miles or so as I continued to warm up and monitor the knee. I still couldn’t really move the left shoulder, but I found a way to make it work. I was feeling more comfortable with each mile, which was a great relief.
My goal going into the race was to run 7:30. I big leap from last year’s 9:00 effort. I knew I could do it, but didn’t think today was the day – it was going to be about surviving in the wake of the accident. That said, I knew Shanna had run around 8 hours in 2008 so if I could keep pace with her I would be OK. The original plan was a progressive walk run — 10 miles run / 1 mile walk, 8/1, 7/1, 6/1, 5/1 and then 4/1’s to the finish. But today I would need to modify and improvise according to how I felt.
At 8 miles I knew I could get in 10 comfortable before the first walk. I picked the pace up ever so slightly and began to push past Shanna. And when I hit 10 miles I was feeling very fresh and light. The knee was ginger but the running actually seemed to loosen it up.
Julie expertly navigated the van and provided amazing encouragement as my paddler Mike Field was on nutrition handoff duty today. I took in my water and CarboPro 1200 on the walk and embarked on the next run segment. Feeling good at the half-marathon mark as the sun came up I finally and for the first time felt like I could actually finish the run. I was holding a steady 7:45 pace without any issue, which I would have been very happy with under the best circumstances.
The greatest joy of this experience was having my family crew for me. To have my wife by my side as well as my stepsons was not something I originally felt was in everyone’s best interest, but in retrospect I would NEVER have it any other way. In so many countless ways that defies words, it unified our marriage and brought me closer to my boys in so many ways. Today was my 13 year old Trapper’s big day to shine. As he paced me on and off throughout the day by running alongside me, I experienced a bonding and a joy by having him with me that is difficult to describe.
Mike did the heavy lifting running alongside me and kept my mind off the pain by telling me the history of every rock formation, every hill and every beach we passed. It was like a moving documentary! And before we knew it, I was already at 26.2, clocking a cool 3:42. Not bad considering the copious walking and the fact that I actually felt like I had just warmed up. At this pace, I could still hit my 7:30 mark!
At around this point began an odd and rather unexpected sort of cat and mouse game with Rip Oldmeadow, who I had caught after his fast start. For quite some time he ran just ahead of me. A couple times he slowed but everytime I made a move to pass him he would surge. I couldn’t play this game. Even though he was my closest competitor (with a minute lead on me I believe in the overall) and the one guy I needed to be focused on, I just couldn’t let him dictate my pace or how I would run. With hours to go, I was not in a position to “race” – I had to just maintain my pace, run my run. Either he was going to blow up or he wasn’t, but it would have been unwise to get caught up in tactics. When I reached a “walk” phase, he pulled away. I figured I would either catch him down the line or I wouldn’t. Turns out I wouldn’t see him again. C’est la vie.
Then things started to unravel. The fatigue from Day 2 and the trauma from my crash started to catch up to me with about 15 miles to go. Commencing the run after a walk phase became increasingly difficult. My legs were seizing up. My feet felt like I was running on hot coals. The intense lava field heat was beginning to take its toll. Every hill felt like a mountain. Mike continued to pace me (he must have run 20 miles that day!) but my cadence slipped and I was running now more in the 8:30 range. Not the plan. The amazing Kathy Winkler passed me. Just….Keep….Going…
Once the airport is in sight, a delusion overcomes you that you are almost done. But looks can be deceiving. On the lava fields you can see for miles and miles. And once past the airport there is still about 9 brutal last miles to go. I had to narrow my focus and remove all distractions just to stay upright. Just to keep the legs moving. My 4/1 strategy turned into 2-3 miles with 1/2 mile walk in between. But everytime I slowed to a walk, returning to run became almost unbearable.
By way of background, back-half running is my strength. I may not be that fast, but I am one of the last guys to slow down. I negative split basically every training run over the last year — including my 2008 Ultraman run. This means my second half is faster than my first half. I pride myself on this ability to finish strong. I train for it. I love it. But on this day? It ain’t happening. The wheels were falling off the wagon.
As I shuffled passed the airport, a mysterious body appeared out of the bushes. It was Jochen Dembeck of Germany. This is not a guy I expected to see as he had an amazing Day 2 and is known for his running strength. He was suffering from some intestinal issues. He was not happy to be back with me, as he had been up in 4th place for most of the run. But again, that’s Ultraman. “C’mon Jochen — run with me. We’ll finish this together.” He matched my stride and we ran alongside each other for the next couple miles. But as we passed the Marina with the final turn in sight, I had to stop for a moment — the legs were really giving out. I waived Jochen off. What I didn’t realize is that he only had a couple minutes on me in the overall. If I could beat him by a couple minutes then I would place higher. Not that it matters or that I could have done anything about it — he was off ahead and I wasn’t going to catch him unless he needed another adventure in the bushes.
The last 4-5 miles is the most suffering I have ever felt on a run. In retrospect I actually can’t believe that my legs were able to keep going. The mind really is an amazing thing — I was very in touch with just how much more we can do than we think we can. The mind is the barrier — not the body.
I checked my Garmin and realized that I still had a shot to finish under 8 hours. If I could do this, the day would be more than successful. But its hard to trust the Garmin as the clock stops when my pace falls below a certain pace (i.e., when I walked) so I was not sure exactly where I stood. For all I knew I was well above 8 hours. Plus its not like the brain was working all that well at this point anyway.
As I made the descent from the Queen K towards Old Airport for the final stretch, I was literally elevated off the ground by my wife, by Mike Field, Trapper and Alan — all cheering wildly for me. I began to tear up (again!) — the emotion of this moment was almost unbearable. All the sacrifice. All the pain, early mornings, extremely long training days, time away from my kids and Julie — it was all cascading down on me. For this moment I had perfect clarity. Not just a sense of personal accomplishment, but a clear idea of a mission, of a life path, of a calling. Not just for myself but for so many others out there I know I can help. I know I can inspire.
As I rounded the last corner I could see the clock. 7:51. Not bad. Not bad at all.
But the best part was the embrace of all my kids and Julie at the finish line. Words cannot express my love for this woman. My admiration for a strength that exceeds mine tenfold. Without her I am nowhere. Without her I would probably be drunk in an alley somewhere. Without her I can assure you I would not have been here. She not only pushes me and challenges me out of my comfort zone on a daily basis, she inspires me in every minute of every day to aspire to greatness — not just physically but more importantly spiritually. To think outside the box. To live life fully beyond the constraints of what society dictates. To tap into my intuitive self. To trust the God within. To follow my heart in the face of obstacles and dissuasion. To pick myself up when I fail. She is my partner in all things, my rock, my guru, my greatest love. She is the real deal. Let’s give credit where credit is really due. She is the true Ultraman.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It was a perfect race. A perfect experience. A perfect journey. I reached the highest of highs and sunk to lows I didn’t think I could recover from. But together — as a family — we persevered. As a unit marked by the shared love between us, we came together and completed what seemed like an insurmountable task, coming out on the other side stronger. More bonded together. More in love.
5th, 6th, 7th place — whatever. It is meaningless. The value is in the experience. In the journey. In the demons faced and overcome. In the communal effort of my family working together. Without any reservation I can say it was a perfect 3 days. I experienced everything that Ultraman is about — the Aloha and Ohana of my fellow competitors and crews. The Island in all its beauty power and glory. The suffering, the victories and defeats. It was a beautiful thing, and I wouldn’t trade one minute of it for anything in the World.
