I kept debating on how detailed to make this race report. I mean, I ran, and ran and ran. What more is there to say? In my mind, there is a books worth of stuff to tell, but who am I writing this for...me, or you? I'm gonna defer to ME here, since I want to remember this in great detail in several years, so if you don't like a long yarn about the mental and physical tribulations of a guys first 100 mile run, then click somewhere else and move on. This shall be an opus, filled with the ramblings of a guy who has more questions than answers about motivations and reasons and the big epic conundrums of the life of a man wandering through the murky abyss of cosmic things he doesn't understand, but feels connected to like water is connected to mud.
Why? Let's start there before I take that first step to 100 miles. More than any other question, that is the one that is asked more often than any other. Simple. Because I can. And I love to. I can't paint like Picasso, or sing like Elvis, or invent velcro, but I can run. I have the ability, for now, so I use it. I'm not saving lives with it or helping world hunger, or any other lofty exercise in human behavior. Nope. I can. I love it. I do it. Simple. Not everybody can. Some would give anything to just take a step....one single step. Is it gift? I don't know. I just know I can, so I do. I'm not a great runner, and being "great" isn't the point. I'm good enough to be happy when I'm doing it, and as far as I'm concerned, that's the point. Be happy. And if you are so inclined, make other people happy too.
So, it's raining, but not a hard rain, just a light steady rain. It's cool, but almost the perfect temperature to have either short sleeves or long sleeves for a running shirt. I chose short sleeve, with running tight shorts, compression socks, toe socks, and Newtons. I had my hat on, with my headlamp since it's still dark. My team of 6 was assembled. Jon and Karen...Rebecca and Traci....Peggy and Jim (Puddin). All would be running with me later except Traci...she would prove (from what I'm told) to be the LOGISTIC MASTERMIND of my crew. I also bumped into my coach, Jennifer Vogel, at the "cabin". She had some last minute instructions for me and the crew. Really cool to meet up with her in person, since she lives in Florida. She was racing today as well, and had her own race to think about, but she took the time to make sure I was all squared away. With about 5 minutes left before start, I stepped outside to experience the rain and weather. A clock next to the finish line counted down to the start time. Racers and crew members just stood around in front of the Headquarters building. No one really seemed to be facing a particular direction, or was concerned that within moments, the race would start. It looked nothing like the beginning of any race I had been in or seen. To look at everyone, you would have no idea which way the race would start once the "gun" went off. With about a minute left on the clock, a bang went off, and everyone started moving, so apparently that was the start of the race. I hit the start buttons on my Garmin and my watch, said goodbye to my crew, and off I went...at a leisurely jaunt. And with that, the beginning of 100 miles began.
Dark and rainy. I had trained in some crazy ass weather for this race. Although it was the warmest winter on record, I (along with those kind enough to train with me for long runs every Friday), ran through rain, sleet, hail, snow and winds strong enough to blow you off the road. I was hoping I had put in my dues and the weather would be perfect, but perfect is in the eye of the beholder I suppose. The rain was never so heavy that I was drenched, so that seemed like a good omen. At the first mile, I looked down at my Garmin and realized it was still on BIKE, from my last workout. DUH!!! I quickly switched it over to RUN. I felt stupid for the next 8 or 9 miles, but at least it was on the exact mile that I realized this, which made it easy to calculate things. As we ran along, everyone took the pace extremely slow, which seemed like a great idea considering it was dark, we were on a trail, and there were a few places to trip. We ran along a access road until we came to the main trail, where we took a right to begin the "out and back" spur portion of the loop. People were making light conversation, but I was concerned on just finding my pace and my space, so I could get into my 100 mile groove....whatever that was. Umstead forest is beautiful. 50 and 60 foot skinny pine trees line either side of the path, with is finely crushed gravel and about 10 to 12 feet wide at least. Our head lamps were hitting the backs of those runners ahead of us, which made crazy reflections off of the hundreds of places everyones running gear had reflective parts built in. Very surreal. So I just ran along...passing some people, getting passed by others, listening to conversations and just living in the moment. I couldn't think of this as 100 miles. It was easier to think of this as 8 laps. I could wrap my head around 8 laps. I've done 8 laps of something, somewhere before, but 100? 8 laps.
By around the 4th mile, I was getting to warm in my rain jacket, so I took it off and tied it around my waist. I'd rather be a little damp than overheated. I didn't want to really hook up with anyone or listen to music the first lap. It was dark, and I just wanted to concentrate on the course and get to know the lay of the land. For the most part, the running surface stayed smooth. There were only a few hills that had a steep grade, and there were plenty of others that were worthy of walking. At mile 6.8, the Aid Station came into view as I came down a nice sized hill. One of the volunteers filled my water bottle, to which I added my NUUN supplement to. I grabbed a slice of orange and hit the road. I stopped at the bridge just past the aid station, just like I would for every future lap, to stretch my knees and quads. They didn't hurt yet, but I was going for the "ounce of prevention" on this one. I knew my quads and knees were my limiting factor, so if I was proactive and kept them stretched, I might not encounter any problems, or at the very least, put them off until much later. After the bridge, there was a short incline, which I walked, and then for the second half of this loop,there were a bit more twists and turns and hills. The rain kept a constant downpour, not to hard. Just enough to feel good, but not so much as to drench you. Each mile is marked with a little pink sign, ticking of each mile as you go. Soon I came back to the gait where we turn back down the access road that leads to the start/turn around/aid station. This would eventually become what I would look forward to every lap, because it meant I was just a couple of minutes until I saw my crew and got one lap closer to finishing.
As I came back into camp, there is a little down hill, before you head back up a small incline to the aid station/Finish area. It was here, every lap, that I would yell "PUDDIN HEAD", thinking I was announcing myself to my crew, as well as kinda pumping myself up and making the people at the bottom of this hill wonder if I'd lost my mind. What or WHO in the hell in a PUDDIN HEAD they must have wondered. I learned later from my pace crew that none of my crew ever heard me once, which made it all the more funny, and still, I did it every lap anyhow, just to have fun! As I came in to the Finish area for my first lap, my crew were cheering me in. I stopped in front of them and they all wanted to give me something, or take something or help me at the same time. They were slightly unorganized, but this just made me smile as I thought how funny it was and how fortunate I was to have so many people willing to help me. Off came the jacket tied around my waste, a new shirt went on, bottles filled, new gel bottle, new dry hat. Slammed a few gulps of chicken broth and coke, as well as my supplements. It was like a Indy pit crew. I said my goodbyes, had a few snacks at the aid station, then took off for lap 2. I completed lap 1 in 2:20:06 for a 11:12 pace. Slower than I anticipated, but it was hard to figure what the hill situation would do to my pace. But this was still well within my time limit.
Lap 2 was fairly uneventful really. I hooked up with a few people on this lap and talked. My legs were still relatively fresh, so nothing really hurt. I was happy to talk with people, and knew this would be part of the key to my success eventually, because when the pain eventually DID kick it, I would need something to take my mind off of it. At the half way point I stopped again at the aid station, had a hamburger, filled my bottles, stretched, and hit the road. The rain had tapered off during this lap, but it was still cloudy and cool. Perfect running weather. The forecast was for 80 degrees, but I was hoping that was going to be way off if these clouds hung around. I was able to look around more this lap, since it was light. I noticed how great this forest was, large quartz rocks littered the ground just beside the trail, and hikers began to use the trail as well as local runners. Some would go running by at super fast paces, and I wanted to yell, "OH YEA, well try doing that for 100 miles!", but of course I didn't. As I finished lap 2 and gave my yell, I again found my crew ready with yells and clapping. This time they were a well oiled machine. Off came my belt, shirt and hat. New shirt was thrown over my head, belt strapped back on with fresh supplies, hat replaced, coffee and coke and chicken broth ready for me to slam, as well as more supplement. Just before I left, I put on my IPOD, with music I had been collecting for this very occasion. The pain was starting now, and I needed these special songs to transport my mind to another place...away for my body and the pains it was beginning to feel after 25 miles. I was going to use every asset in my arsenal to achieve my goal. I easily had the best team of anyone, and had to be the envy of all. I was blessed. I bid the team farewell, ate a few bites at the aid tent, and trotted down the trail to begin lap 3. Yea...3 out of 8 was a number I could deal with. Lap 2 was done in 2:32:23, for a pace of 12:11. Not exactly blazing, but my average was still a 11:42, so all was good.
I hadn't made it to mile 2 of this lap when a girl and guy pulled up on either side of me and began talking to me. The problem was, I was blasting my music to the point of stupid, and they kinda took me by surprise. I had noticed them running together earlier. She had a tank top running shirt on, which exposed a very large tattoo on her back. He had longer hair, and had been speaking in a accent I could not place...so they made an interesting team. I pulled off my headphones, so as not to be rude, and began talking to them. I stayed with them for most of this entire lap...well, at least I stayed with Amy, the girl. Amy and Tony were training partners, and had been for several years. They had made a pact that if one of them fell behind, the other would just keep going...no questions asked. Tony fell behind, so I stayed with Amy. Turned out we both have 15 year old daughters and we spent the rest of the lap comparing all of the crazy crap 15 year old daughters do to drive their parents nuts, which was amazingly similar. There were a couple of other guys running right behind Amy and I, and they were cracking up the entire loop, so it was good entertainment for all. I kept my headphones off my ears, but I could still hear my music, so all was good. As we came to the end of this loop, we headed in to the Finish area with a good PUDDIN HEAD yell. Again, the pit crew tore stuff off of me and threw stuff back on me. Chicken broth, coke, pills, shirt, belt, a few quick snacks and off I went. One more lap and I could get my pacers...sweeeeeeeeet. Lap 3 was done in 2:31:44, my only negative split lap that I would do for the day. Lap pace was 12:08 for a overall average of 11:51. Yep, the average was slowing down, but I still looked good for a sub 24 hour finish...if nothing went wrong.
I was actually hoping to do most of this lap by myself. I was wanting to just crank up my music and let it transport my brain to somewhere else that didn't include leg and feet pain, because these were creeping in for sure. Nothing serious, but little pains don't magically go away in long races, they get bigger, and I was doing all I could to delay these things. Taking hills easy, both up and down. Stretching. Magic pills....and a recent discovery on my part...music. If I could just let my mind drift into the songs, I could focus on something other than pain. It worked well. For the next 6ish miles, until the half way aid station, I just cruised along and listened to music, and looked at the forest and the other runners. Got to the aid station, did refills, had some chips, put on some new bandaids (bleeding nipples are NOT good), hit the potty, and took off. I was soon joined by a younger guy from Chicago. This was his second attempt at 100, so we talked for a bit about the do's and don'ts of ultra running. Finally, we parted ways and soon, I hooked up with another guy, also doing his first ultra. (Sorry, names escape me here), but he was a retired military guy (but only looked like he was in his early 30s). We talked the rest of the loop about military and the world and running. As we got ready to turn into the access road, we stopped at a water spigot and doused our heads in cold water, which REALLY brought me back to life! Oh yea!
I was excited coming in for the 4th lap. I was happy to have Karen and Jon join me for a couple of laps. When I arrived, they were dressed in their gear and ready to hit the road. I wondered if they had ever did such long mileage so late at night. When I saw Jon, I grabbed him and said, "Mr. Minzner, grab the maps, for we sail into uncharted territory, BEWARE THE CRACKEN!". Hey, ya gotta have some fun. The next few steps would be new ground...for longest distance I'd ever run, plus longest time I'd ever spent running. Lap 4 ended. I'd been running 10 hours and 10 minutes. This last lap took me 2:46:06 to do for a lap pace of 13:17, which put my average for the day at 12:12. Yep, I was slowing down.
So, off the three of us went. I left my music, because I was now going to depend on the witty stories of my friends to entertain me and keep my mind occupied with thoughts other than, "DAMN THIS HURTS". We took off at the blistering pace of WALK, and stayed at that pace half way up the access road until if flattened up a little, and then it turned into a "run", and I say "run" partly in jest. Sure, what I was doing LOOKED like running, and felt like running, but the pace was now down to a really fast walk. But I was moving forward, and nothing hurt any worse than it had for the last 3 hours, but it wasn't going away either. For the most part, that's the thing for me on these long LONG runs. For most of the run, things don't continue to hurt more and more and more, they just continue to really hurt...for a long time. During a marathon, you know that the pain will last about 3-5 hours, depending on your pace, and you tell yourself you can endure this crazy pain for that time, but for a ultra, you have to put up with that kind of pain for 15, 18, 20, 24 or more hours. That's a long time to hurt that bad, I don't care who you are. Your body and a good portion of your brain are telling you to either stop, or at least start walking, because then the pain will diminish, but that other crazy ass part of your brain keeps convincing you to keep up the good fight and hang in there until it's over or you die. It's like the little angel and devil on each shoulder having this constant battle. But who's telling you to do which thing?....and who is right? Makes ya wonder.
So the three of us made the turn on to the spur, and I reminded them immediately it was time to start telling stories, and they did. I don't even remember what they were saying, but it was something that my mind could temporarily focus on, and that's what I needed, like the man behind the curtain...LOOK OVER HERE, not OVER THERE! The miles continued to tick along, and we made mention of how beautiful this park was, and how we really didn't have anything comparable where we lived to run. The sun was beginning to get low, and for the next lap, we decided we should take our head lamps. We reached the 6.8 mile aid station, and restocked. Here is where my body decided we were going to stop at nearly every Porta Potty for one reason or the other...and for whatever reason, it was usually "the other". I think all of the constant movement was having this effect on my guts, and although it was never an emergency, it was a something I needed to do. Walk, run, walk, run, talk talk talk. There is a certain monotony to running the same 12.5 mile loop over and over and over, no matter what you do to distract yourself. For instance, there was the one huge tree near the spur that had this enormous hole at it's base, which I named "screaming tree" and began looking for every lap. I began remembering other trees and even certain rocks. On we went, and when we finally neared the turn back down the access road, I stopped again at the spigot and drenched my head and face. Nothing like some crazy cold water to bring you back to life. We pulled in to the Finish/Aid station area, and Peggy was suited up and ready to run. She wasn't scheduled to do a lap with me until the next lap but apparently she wanted to do 25 miles. WOO HOO! The more the merrier, and if I were her, I would have done the same thing. Geez it must be crazy boring to wait on my slow ass to pull into station ever 3ish hours. Clock time: 13 hours, 11 minutes. Pace for this lap....14:29.....Overall pace: 12:40. Interesting. The team again had me in a new shirt, bottles, and hat, and again since dawn, a head lamp. So freaking weird.
Off the 4 of us went, at the same speed as last lap. Walk. Again got up to the flat area and took off "running". I was pointing out and explaining the lap to Peggy. Karen made mention of Peggys running style and thought she might be doing it on my slow account, but Peggy and I assured her that Peggy's running style is special to her, and it gets her where she's going. Peggy is so funny. Eventually I began telling the story of "Fire in the Sky" (the movie), as well as my constant search during this race for "Big Foot". Hey, ya gotta have a hobby. At one point, I was going so slow that Peg began pushing me up a hill, but I reminded her that if I couldn't do this for myself, then I shouldn't be out here. She agreed, but she has a big heart and just wanted to help me in every way she could. I began stopping at the aid station where the BIG LOOP comes back on to itself. There are porta pots there as well as a water station and very small food station, all self serve. I was trying to drink more and the potty stops were becoming more often. Not that I disliked the potty stops, but the pulling up and pulling down of the running shorts was kinda painful, but I gotta say in all honesty, the SITTING DOWN part was great, no matter how bad it smelled. By this time we had to switch on the head lamps and continue on. Everyone was amazed at how reflective all of the running gear was on all of the other runners. It really is pretty cool to see. We made it to the aid station, where I refilled, had broth, stretched as always, hit the porta pot and took off again. Walk, Run, Walk Run...on and on and on. If eventually became how painfully slow I was going when Peggy would run up ahead and then begin speed walking. It would take me forever to catch back up to her, so I was barely doing more than a speed walk. Glorious. On and on and on...really....I mean, hells bells, I'm running a freaking 100 miles here and this shit get's repetitive! Made it back to the bit that turns back on itself, potty, reload, and off again at a walk. I knew I was walking more this lap, but now the math was beyond my brain. I thought I knew I was still under my 24 hour goal finish, and challenged anyone to tell me different. No one could. We pulled back into station, and Jon and Karen were done. They had done a blisteringly slow 25 miles with me and I loved them both for it. Sometimes slower and longer is harder than faster and shorter, but they both still looked kinda fresh, so I hoped this didn't destroy them. 25 miles is still 25 miles. This time the pit stop took longer. The team (especially Rebecca and Traci) said it was time to change my socks and shoes. I protested for like....5 seconds, but then remembered that women usually win these things, so I just plopped down in a chair while Pudding handed me a phone to talk to Mary and Rebecca began changing my shoes and socks. I think the toe socks threw her, but she was awesome, even when it appeared when someone handed her two left socks! hehehe. Socks on. Shoes on. Told Mary I only had 25 miles to go. She seemed happy and amazed I sounded so happy and well. New supplies and then Rebecca and Peggy took off with me, for what would be one crazy freaking lap.
Things started out so innocently, like the last few laps. Walk for a bit, run, and then make it to the little water/potty stop. Peggy was egging Rebecca on to tell some stories, so we got some doozies from her! Rebecca never ceases to come up with some zingers right out of the blue! However, soon we began to hear some loud crashing sounds. I pondered out loud if it was "head" lightening and thunder, but about 10 minutes later we had our answer when it began to lightly rain. The thunder and lightening began to come closer and closer together. The rain picked up to a full blown downpour, but the forest kept most of the rain from hitting us hard. Now came the crazy part. For the next 30ish minutes, there wasn't a spit second that there wasn't lightening and thunder. I was a electrical storm and the constant BOOMING was crazy. I though it was really cool, and that it was taking my mind off the mounting pain in my quads and IT bands. There were so many huge trees around us, I figured it lightening struck near, it would hit them first, so there was no real danger. We walked down the hill to the far aid station, and I refilled, had broth, stretched, pottied and took off again. Soon, the lightening began to taper off, and before we reached the access road, the rain had stopped and the clouds began to depart. I gave a good PUDDIN HEAD yell, and finished my 7th lap. 19 hours, 55 minutes down. Pace for the lap was 16:43...slower than my fastest walk. But this added in my aid station stops, potty stops and water stops...but still..it was slow. Overall pace: 13:41. If nothing...absolutely NOTHING went wrong, the sub 24 belt buckle was mine.
I had read lots of race reports over the last year. Listened to many a story. Even some of the people during this race had told me.....At some point during this race, the wheels would fall off. Things would go terribly wrong. Hallucinations would begin creep into my reality. Life would get tough. But starting on this last lap, I felt pretty good....well, pretty good for having just gone 75 miles. I was fully awake, and not really tired. This surprised me, since I am not the type of person to stay up past my rather early bed time. My mind felt just fine as well, and I was only barely getting a bit goofy, but hells bells, who doesn't get a bit goofy thinking of shit for over 20 hours? Sure, my feet like Mike Tyson had been pounding them for 10 rounds, and my quad and IT Bands were tender, but I'd felt more pain on some of my harder marathons. Even though, I didn't take this for granted. There was 12.5 miles left to go, and you can't sneeze at that distance, no matter who you are. Puddin Head and Rebecca were going to join me for this last lap. Puddin was wearing a long sleeve denim shirt over a running type of shirt and running shorts, which comes into the story later. Off we went. As soon as we reached just a few hundred yards, Puddin began recounting all of the wild ass crazy stories from the past. Some of them I knew, some of them I didn't, but I was cracking up at all of them. They were exactly the kind of stories I needed at this point in the race. It was exactly why I put Puddin at this point in the PACER LINEUP. My legs hurt. My feet hurt. My shoulders hurt. Stories took my mind off the "hurt". If you are reading this and looking for that little nugget of information that will get you through a race like this, I'd tell you to find something that takes your mind somewhere else....music, stories, whatever. Find it. I planned this perfectly for this reason. Back and forth they went, telling stories. The skies had completely cleared, and from the small sections of sky I could see from the trees, it was crazy crystal clear, and the moon and stars were glorious. I would have continued looking at the sky if I didn't think I would trip and fall. On we went at our blistering pace of 17:12 minute miles. Folks....thats just a good ole fashion walking speed, but I was doing it in "run" motion, which must have looked like running through water. I thing I actually walked less during this lap than several of the last, but my legs just would not move faster than this speed. We made it to the aid station, where I again refueled on broth and water. Stretched, and off we went. I now kept constant watch on my watch. For all the world, it looked like I would make this under 24 hours, even to my math deprived brain synapses. I quickly began to get a chill, which for me is a really bad sigh. I usually get chilled and go severely hypothermic within a half hour after a marathon or Ironman. I mean, REALLY , REALLY hypothermic. After my second Boston, my friend Jeff, who had also ran and finished well ahead of me, found me just in time and practically carried me to a bar, where they had a large fireplace. He deposited me there, where I stayed at and practically crawled into, until he was able to find our friends about 30 minutes later. This happens as often as not during hard races....so when I began to get this chill with about 6 miles left, I took this as a bad sign.
As we left the aid station, I noticed Puddin had tied his long sleeved shirt around his waist. "Puddin", I said. "If you're not cold and not using that shirt, do you mind if I borrow that?". He immediately whipped if off and gave it to me. GLORIOUS! It was a very heavy shirt, just what I needed. It immediately took the chill off, and for the next 5 miles, I ran with it, sometimes holding on to the sides, sometimes taking it down to my waist, but using it to regulate my temperature.
Stories and stories and stories. Finally I told Puddin and Rebecca I wanted to finish the race with the HAMMEL CAMEL. The H.C. is a kinda stance that Puddin and I invented during Desert Storm. We were drunk on wine and moonshine and God knows what else. During some part of this, we jumped up on a very precarious kitchen sink, and struck a pose....forever known at the HAMMEL CAMEL. Rebecca was suspicious, and rightly so, but we assured her we would show her before the finish so she would get it right.
It never happened. I never got sleepy tired. I never hallucinated...did I? No aliens. No Bigfoot. No screaming snowflakes. Nuttin. We cruised up the road. Walk. Run...well....faster than walk. The stretch from the last "aid/potty" area seemed to get longer every lap. We came to the spur and turned right. I looked at my watch again...23:25ish. Wholly Crap! I was gonna make this freaking thing! It was so funny, for the last 8 miles, at every mile marker, Pudding would yell at each one, "7, 8, 9, 10.....WHO'S YOUR FUCKING DADDY NOW?". I SO looked forward to that every single mile and we Rebecca and I would laugh our butts off! When we turned back into that Access road and the "12 MILE MARKER" came up, and Pudden yelled it again, it seemed almost freaking magical. I had just ran 99.5 miles. In just a few moments my "thing", my "journey", my "race" or "quest" or "whatever" would be over. I was gonna survive this. I didn't do anything stupid. I jogged up to the down hill point and walked down, the back up. Rebecca and Pudden went one way, I went to the finish. I yelled "276 is DONE!" and they recorded my time. 23 hours. 31 minutes. 49 seconds. I was alive. I did this. I went to each of my crew and hugged them. Thanked them. Did they know? They had come for this thing, this journey, this quest, but did they really know. I have a way bigger heart....am much more emotional that most people would know, but the older I get, the less I care. The relationships formed or forged in experiences like these are things of legend. "I" didn't run 100 miles..."WE" ran 100 miles. I don't watch race car racing much, but I know the driver would not finish this without his team. I would not have finished this without my team. For my first 100, I wanted success. I put together, maybe by accident, maybe by divine intervention, a perfect team. They all had something I needed to get me to that finish line on time. The right people....the right place...the right time. Like so many sports teams that had the right people on the team to achieve some championship, I had the absolute perfect team. I finished, and WE ALL achieved this goal. WE got MY ass across THAT line in less than 24 hours. Rebecca and Pudden came back to the line, and we all did the Hammel Camel for a picture. And it was done.
I went back to the tent and got my SUB 24 hour belt buckle. The COVETED belt buckle. I did it. I made it. Done.
The team took me into the cabin and I walked around for a few minutes. Jon asked if I wanted breakfast, and I said HELL YEA! I sat down at a table....ooooooooohhhhhhhhh that felt good....and while I waited, Peggy began giving me a back massage. My eggs and pancakes arrived, with my juice and coffee. I inhaled them all and Jon offered seconds..which I accepted. Peggy continued rubbing and I was in heaven. Race done. Massage. Food. Friends. I'm not sure if it will get this good again but I was enjoying it while I could.
Someone said that we were all blocked in from a car who was tipped sideways on the parking area. Pudden said we could leave, and my brain was shutting down, so I believed him. I stayed in the cabin area until he dislodged his vehicle from the lot, then brought it to the front of the cabin to pick me up. I sat down, and immediately "passed out" or "went to sleep", but I remember nothing from that point until we got to the hotel. I briefly remember getting to our room, at which time I took a quick shower to remove 24 hours of crap from my body. I spent the next 5ish hours in and out of sleep. Every time I moved, something hurt enough to wake me back up.
I just ran 100 miles. I'd sleep another day.
So...there it is. I ran 100 miles. Many people have done this before. Most have not, but some have. I do these things because one day I won't be able to. I wanna do all I can with what I am able to. One day, I will learn to play musical things. I'm a good father and will get better. I'm a good husband, and I will get better. I'm a good friend, and I will get better. And for a little while longer, I'm a good athlete, and I will get better.
Can you imagine how lucky I am to have friends who would take vacation time, spend that much money, and invest that much time to make sure someone else reached a dream, accomplished a goal? I love you guys. Thank you.



Zero.

Food.
Sleep.



Nothing.


Thank You.