Mother Road 100

"If you are going to win any battle, you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do... the body is never tired if the mind is not tired." Gen George S. Patton

This quote was my mantra for the race and it served me better than I could have imagined. At 9AM on November 8th, 2008 Don Garret fired a shotgun blast and we were off. I was really going to do this - my first 100 mile race - on roads! I began with a slow even pace that I planned to hold as long as I could. My game plan was to run eight minutes and walk 2 for a 50 mile split around 10:30. From looking at splits from previous races and guestimates about my own ability running this pace and no faster should leave me with something left in the 2nd half of the race. There was one serious flaw in this theory but we'll get to that in time.



I spent the early part of the race socializing with other runners and met several first timers and veterans alike. I also ran with the Pirahna Brothers a bit during this section and came to further appreciate Mav and T3's sense of humor. A few times along this stretched I was passed by a huge RV. I thought who in the heck is RVing on this desolate side road. Later on I saw the rig on the side of the road open with food, restrooms and generators. Someone was getting crewed in style!

When I pulled in to the Foss aid station at 3:00 I was right on schedule. I visited a bit with the nice townspeople and sampled some local cookies, refilled my water bottles and was off. I was feeling strong and confident that if I stuck to my race plan and didn't go out too fast early on I could beat my goal of 26 hours.

The next major stop was Clinton at mile 30. This was the first weigh in station and I carefully managed my calories since as a heavy sweater I am particularly vulnerable to weight loss during a run. At about mile 28 my brother showed up unexpectedly to cheer me on and offer support. This surprise meant the world to me. As I pulled into the Clinton aid station at the Route 66 museum my brother took control like he had been crewing ultrarunners for years. He asked me what I needed and proceeded to get it while ushering me onto the scales. 5 pounds down. Not terrible but I would have to watch my calorie intake. Here I decided to change socks and take advantage of my brother's generosity and eat a hamburger. MMMMM-GOOD

Thanks to the unexpected visit from my brother I was feeling GREAT. The emotional uplift from the unexpected appearance of a loved one cannot be underestimated. I cruised out of Clinton and ran strongly to mile 40 at the Cherokee Trading Post where I was to meet my crew. I still felt I was floating through the course and would have never believed 40 miles could melt under my feet so easily. With that being said I was still sticking to my pace plan and arrived at the Cherokee Trading Post right on schedule. Mike was there to meet me with a chair and food waiting. I was having a little bit of a hot spot on the back of my heels on both feet so I changed into my Brooks T5 racers. While only 5.6 ounces you would be surprised how much cushion these babies offer. After about a 3 minute break I was off again for a 10 mile stretch to Weatherford.

Somewhere on the way to mile 50 and the Weatherford aid station night fell and I put on some more reflective gear and lighting. I still felt very strong coming in to Weatherford and it was great having Mike along to crew. He had his SUV packed with everything a runner could need and was always there at just the right time. Mike was THE MAN for the job - no doubt about it.
Coming into downtown I decided to call my wife and letter her know I was 1/2 way in and feeling great - while trying to talk, walk and dodge traffic I managed to step into a water puddle and soak my feet. My mood soured almost instantly, to add to this I couldn't see the course markings through the downtown area and traffic was heavy on a Saturday night. Mike came to the rescue and ensured me I needed to go straight until Washington Street and then turn left. Once I hit Washington he told me I had a mile to go. This was the first of many instances where I learned to distrust a cars odometer. For 20 minutes I power walked and ran strongly - still no aid station. The mental/emotional effect of thinking I could cover a mile in 20 minutes was crushing and I jogged into the Weatherford Medical Center Aid station feeling deflated and for the first time missing a planned split with a 50 mile time of 10:48.

At the aid station I needed to change clothes as I had soaked through my warm clothing with sweat, I also decided my hot spots were getting worse and I needed to sacrifice some time now to take care of them. When I pulled off my shoes I realized that I didn't have hot spots, I had full blown blisters on the backs of my achilles heel and they were located in an area that would be tough to tape. Also on my right foot the blister was under a callous - uh oh. I spent some time trying to tape up and also borrowing some supplies from the Pirahna's since I couldn't find my foot powder (it was in plain sight the whole time I later realized). After about a 10 minute stop I was off.

WoW - what happened? After leaving the 50 mile aid station it was like someone had thrown a switch, no I didn't hit the wall, my energy level was just fine - but it felt like I'd left my quads at the last aid station. I thought briefly about going back and asking the volunteers if they had seen them... Now this was unusual in the sense that normally when I trash my quads it's a gradual thing and you know its coming - however today (or I guess tonight) I went from feeling fine to be totally unable to handle the downhills all at once. Of course for this Okie this course had been very hilly. Rolling hills you might say but they did keep rolling on and on and on. Somewhere on this section a truck full of Coca Cola Cowboys dressed up for Saturday night pulled over and asked me what I was doing. The look on their faces when I told them made the whole experience worth it - to their credit they enthusiasticly wished me well in my adventure and went about their way. Over the next 5 1/2 miles to Hydro I ran the flats, power walked the uphills and just tried to survive the downhills. So much for my strategy of going slow the first 50 to have something left for the second half. I tried to not let this get to me and decided I could walk my way to a better position - if I just kept moving forward things would eventually get better.

By the Hydro aid station it was starting to get cold and my blisters were acting up again, I stopped for about 15 minutes and changed shoes again, this time putting some slick adhesives patches inside the heels of the shoes themselves changing socks and retaping the blisters - this time with duct tape which I thought had a chance to stay in place. It was here that Mike gave me one of those convenience store ham sandwiches that any other time I would have turned my nose up at - not tonight it was WONDERFUL.

Between Geary and Bridgeport I started to run strongly on the flats and uphills, still walking the down hills. Mike progressed from pulling ahead a 1/4 mile at a time to a mile at a time. Poor guy - having to drive a 100 miles at 5 miles an hour. About a mile into this stretch I was cruising along and I saw someone on their front porch waving and yelling. Taking out my earphones I could hear a very irate homeone screaming something about getting off his property. The way he was weaving he might have had an earlier date with the bottle. Looking around to see what had him so upset I saw Mike with his hazard lights on at the edge of the driveway talking loudly to another running making sure they were OK, oblivious to the fact that the some or all of us were about to get buckshot for breakfast. I passed Mike and told him to pull ahead now. Not suprisingly I ran pretty fast for the next 10 minutes or so. Somewhere on this stretch I came across Ray. Ray lives in Winona Mississippi and we had spent some time earlier in the race discussing the small Mississippi Towns. When I found Ray he was sitting on the side of the road and looked discouraged. I asked him if he would get up and walk with me a little ways. He did and while we were walking he told me he was going to drop out. I told him I understood and that it was a very personal decision but if he was going to drop out why not walk with me to the 72 mile aid station run by the Tulsa Ultra and Trail Running group. They would have a fire and warm food which might make all the difference. Ray agreed and we power walked for several miles eating and talking until about mile 65 when my pacer Reese met us a few miles early at mile 65. I was running about an hour behind schedule at this point and Reese had come out to start pacing a little before the Bridgeport aid station. It was good to see Reese and I quickly told him I wanted to start running some after Bridgeport but no matter what I wanted to get Ray to Tatur Turn.

We pulled into Bridgeport about 1am on a cold and dark night. Since I had a crew we didn't take advantage of the aid station and did the short out and back and got back on the road for Tatur Turn. This was only 5 miles but it was along 5 miles. I started running a bit more here. Before I knew it we were at the LONG bridge. This was the bridge they had warned us we would need to run with traffic and have a vehicle escort since there were no shoulders. This bridge was at least a mile long. Towards the end you could see the Tatur aid station shining like a beacon. It was unfortunately farther away than it appeared.

I had hopes of coming into the Tatur aid station and warming up by the fire and visiting with some Tatur friends and talking a while to Ray before going out on the only trail section of the course. A 5 mile run on dirt and gravel through the original route 66 alignment that was off limits to crew vehicles. Once I weighed in all my plans of rest and socializing vanished - the scale read my weight as down 12 pounds. Even though my feet and quads hurt, my energy level and morale were still strong - trust me if I was so dehydrated that I'd lost 12 pounds that wouldn't have been the case. At the time I couldn;t remember if 12 pounds down was 6% weight loss which would have resulted in a warning or 7% which would have resulted in an automatic disqualification. I couldn;t do the math and didn’t wait around for the aid station volunteers to figure it out. Once off the scale I told Maurice lets go and took off at a fast clip down the trail section - hoping Mike and Ray would understand and figure out what each of them would do next.

This section of the course was dark, cold and creepy. It was hear that my feet really started to hurt - 72 miles in racing flats - go figure. Several times I had to stop to just be still for 30 seconds before continuing and running was completely out of the question. On top of that it was cold. I told Reese as soon as we finished this section I had to get in a warm vehicle and heat up. He didn't argue - I think we were both just trying to make it through. I was just try to put one foot in front of the other and he was probably just trying to hold himself back to a walking pace I could follow.

When we finally made it to Geary I had the first of two real test of my resolution to finish. I got inside the crew vehicle and Mike and Reese entertained me with humor and stories while I tried to warm up. The outside temperature sensor read 34 degrees. I put on many extra layers and after 40 minutes Mike told me it was time to go. I got out and slogged maybe 200 yards before I had to wave Mike down to stop and get back in the vehicle. I was seriously pre-hypothermic and scared. It wasn’t a matter of desire to finish but fear of permanent damage. This time I stayed in the car for about ten minutes and put on everything we had in the vehicle except 1 pair of expedition weight long johns (which normally I couldn't wear stationary at anything warmer than 10 degrees). I got outside and made it about another 30 seconds before getting back in the vehicle. This time I put the expedition weight long johns over everything else. This time when I got out I knew if I couldn;t get warm I would have to drop - I started running - it may not have been fast and it may not have been pretty but I was running.

I started to warm up. In fact in a few more minutes I started handing layers of clothing back to Mike at each stop. My spirit started to rise. I was 80 miles into a 100 miler and I was running again. I couldn't wait till daylight - expecting my spirits and energy level to soar with the rising of the sun. By this point I had no appetite and briefly thought about eating. I decided I'd rather wait till I started bonking to eat than try to force down food now and maybe kick off a serious case of bloat/nasuea. This section is when my second serious test began. Without warning the blisters on the back of both heels popped at once. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t walk. I screamed like a girl. I couldn’t believe blisters could hurt so badly. I got in the vehicle to tend to my feet. Just taking off my shoes was agony. The reasons why the pain was so extreme was obvious when I got my shoes and socks off. The last dirt section to Geary had deposited quite a bit of sand in my shoes and socks. Due to the extreme cold I hadn't noticed. This had turned the manageable dime sized blisters into a macerated mess that covered the entire back of each foot. It was time for some duct tape. While I carry a variety of foot first aid with me, I always carry a role of duct tape for emergencies. It will stick to anything! I duct taped my heels and whimpered as I put my shoes back on. I knew I couldn’t let this break me. As I stepped out of the car and started to run I let out whimpers like an animal. Fire was shooting through my nerves. I was crying without even realizing it while running. But I kept on, eventually the pain became manageable - then blessedly it became numb. We were at mile 87 and the sun was rising.

The last three miles to Calumet is where I met and dealt with the demise of my goal for 26 hours. While I had my blisters and my quads under control (sort of) the raw pounding my feet had taken over the last 87 miles were taking it's toll. Well I might not make my goal but I wasn't going to roll over. With the rising of the son my mood started to improve and I told Reese we were going to start passing people. My goal was one for each mile left in the race. Now I'm not normally very competitive, and certainly a 100 mile race is you against the course - not other people. However this goal helped me to focus on something and run more so that's what I did. I started to get a little punch drunk and began my best/worst Mohammed Ali imitation - telling my crew and pacer "I was a bad, bad man". Steadily but surely we began to pass people, most of which had resigned themselves to walking in the last thirteen miles but some fought back and ran well. As if my Mohammed Ali imitation wasn't bad enough I started telling anyone who would listen (meaning my crew and pacer) that I ate nails for breakfast and spiked my coffee with sname venom - anything to pscyh myself out to keep going. We finally made it to the mile 90 aid station in Calumet.

By Calumet my ability to run or walk was becoming very questionable. You'd think I'd have sore legs or cramps or low energy at this point but truly it was just about pain management with the bottom of my feet being the trouble. I ran as much as I could but that was getting to be less and less. My brother showing up again unexpectedly helped raise my spirits but couldn't do much for the rest of me. I truly believed at mile 95 I would start to speed up with the finish line in sight. That wasn't the case - with 5 miles left I really came apart emotionally. At this point I never thought about quitting but it was a serious struggle not to succumb to a survival shuffle to the finish.

I pushed and pushed, time and again to run 1 min, 2 mins, 30 secs what ever I could. At one point I almost broke. By this point I was glad I had sunglasses on because I didn't want anyone to see the tears or the look in my eyes. I barely nodded my head when my crew shouted encouragement. After a short downhill run at mile 97 a sob escaped my lips and I just shook uncontrollably with emotion for a minute. Right at this point my brother drove by and asked if everything was ok - not wanting him to witness me hurting like that I pulled it together. It was tough. About this time a rancher who was turning on to Route 66 rolled down his window and asked if we were doing a marathon? Reese explained to him we were on our 4th marathon of the day and he politely suggested "you guys must be a little cracked". No doubt about that I thought.

By now I could see the final hill, over which was the entrance to Fort Reno. As I walked up this hill I saw my wife and son as well as my brother's family. Their encouragement helped me to dig deep and run to the entrance of Ft. Reno where the finish line awaited...

Or did it - a truly cruel finish once you enter in the gates to Ft. Reno a sign tells you that you have 1.5 miles to go. This was a huge blow but I started running faster. Reese told me if we could hold this pace I could still make noon (which was plan B and I didn't want to give it up). I ran for what felt like half a mile (but was probably closer to 100 yards) when a race sign proclaimed only 1.5 miles left to go. This time I couldn’t take it - I walked. I couldn't even see the finish line just 1 more hill in the distance. I had had enough hills - I wanted to finish. I walked , Reese beside me wincing and sobbing with the pain. It was beautiful, the fall colors, the trees, the grass - OWWW my feet brought me back into the moment. We crested the last hill and I could see the finish line in the distance. I started to run. I soon realized the finish line was further away than I thought and since it was after noon I decided what’s a few more minutes. I decided to walk. About that time Reese told me there was a runner behind me and he was running. No way I thought - somehow I found speed I didn’t now I had - earlier in the day I thought there would be no way I could find a finishing kick but I did. I sprinted across the line to the sounds of the theme from Rocky (others who were there may correct me but I really believe I sprinted to the finish) and immediately found a chair and became one with it.

Once I opened my eyes again I saw that my Mother, my Wife, Son and two cousins were holding a congratulatory banner they had made. I was surrounded by friends from the Oklahoma Trail Running Group and my wife was whispering something sweet in my ear. Having friends, family and my crew and pacer at the finish line meant the world to me.

Several days later I am still trying to process the experience. I know that it wouldn't have been the same experience without Mike and Brad crewing and Reese pacing. I think I'll forever be closer to each of you.

To everyone who provided encouragement and support along the way and the race directors and volunteers that made the race happen - thank you all