On Thursday evening, Drew and I saddled up the trusty Forrester and headed into the woods bound for Dahlonega, Georgia. Our destination — Camp Merrill, an Army Ranger training camp in the middle of the Georgia woods. Our mission — run for 24 hours straight (only six for me!) and see how many miles we can rack up!
Merrill’s Mile is a one mile loop track in the middle of the forest on a military base. Awesomely enough, this year camping on the night before was allowed, so we decided to get there, camp, and be there bright and early for the start of the race. Since Camp Merrill is about four hours from home, we ended up making it there after dark, which meant setting up our camp in the dark! Did I mention there are no lights whatsoever on the track?? ‘Cause there are no lights on the track. Thankfully our tent is easy to assemble and we had flashlights!
We settled in for the night and tried to get some sleep for the next day. It wasn’t very hot, but in Georgia in July, that’s a relative term. At least there was a breeze to blow away some of that humidity! We couldn’t see it then, but the next morning we could tell we were basically sleeping in the middle of a swamp! The next morning, Drew and I both commiserated on our lack of good sleep and began prepping for the day ahead.
Like I said, it’s Georgia and it’s July, so heat was certainly going to be an issue. We set up our table with needed supplies: RunGuard, water, Nuun, BASE salt, and Gus. Then, we heated up some coffee with our little camp stove, ate some breakfast, and waited for the race to begin!
The beginning of the race was delightful! The track was completely shaded by trees and their was actually a pretty cool breeze blowing. Drew and I decided to bank some quicker miles because of the nice weather in anticipation of not being able to do so later. We both ran about six or seven miles straight because the weather was so nice! Then we ate some and got back out to do some more. By this point, the shade was starting to evaporate and there were only big shady patches, but as the day wore on, the shady patches became sparser and sparser until finally around about 11am, the track was completely sunny.
Someone had put a thermometer up on their tent and I remember looking at it around the 11am mark. It read 100 degrees. At 11am. In the morning. At this point, I switched over to run, walk intervals, with the walking intervals increasing as the day wore on. Most folks switched over to intervals or just plain walking because of the intensity of the heat. As the shade vanished and the track heated up, the real test began.
By noon, the thermometer read nearly 115, and it was all I could do to walk around the track with hardly any running intervals at all. I was guzzling water and salt like it was going out of style, but I knew it was a losing battle. It was just too hot for me to run. I took a quick 15 minute break to get my heart rate down and then got back out there. I was actually able to run for a few short minutes before walking again.
Slowly, as the hours wore on, the shade returned to a portion of the track. I made a vow to run the shady bits and walk the sunny bits, which worked out pretty well. My goal for the day was 20 miles and then I planned on stopping. This really wasn’t my race–just a chance to get in some miles before helping Drew out. I made it to 21 in the time allotted, which I felt pretty good about, especially considering the intense heat for most of the day.
On my last lap, I heard the tell-tale sounds of thunder rumbling in the distance. No more than five minutes after I finished my six-hour time limit, the storm hit. I cursed my misfortune. The rain would have knocked the heat down!
Those of you unfamiliar to the world of ultra-running may now be a bit confused. Most other events will weather-hold or even cancel at the first rumble of thunder, but the ultra-running world doesn’t really work like that. If it rains, you keep running. If it storms, you keep running. It’s hot? Keep running. It’s cold? Keep running. The trail has turned into a lake? Wade on in and keep running. There’s snakes? Be careful, but keep running. Bears? Again, careful! Keep running. Basically, the show must go on. Ultra-runners are a tough, crazy breed. You have to be self-reliant and self-sufficient. If you don’t think it’s safe, you don’t go on.
So folks squelched on by in the drenching rain and thunder, and then the real fun began. I battened down the hatches with the pop-up, secured loose items, and moved Drew’s shoes out of the growing lake by my feet. We had planned on changing socks and shoes. We had planned on inclement weather. But we hadn’t planned well. And it would be this little misstep that cost Drew his 24 hours.
Video journal of our time at Merrill’s Mile
Around mile 32, Drew decided to air out his feet and change socks and shoes. He’d walked for a few miles in Merrells and that, combined with sloshing around for miles in wet shoes, had rubbed blisters on the balls of his feet. He hoped drying them out and changing shoes might help. We tended them as best we could and after 20 or 30 minutes, he went back out.
I could tell with each passing lap, he was getting worse. The rain just kept coming and soon he was out of dry socks and shoes, so he squelched around the track, each lap getting more and more blistered. At mile 37, I could tell he was seriously flagging. He threatened to give up then and there, but I persuaded him to go on for one more lap, knowing that he’d probably continue on from there and get over the slump.
At mile 38, he did want to quit. I turned into Drill Sergeant Haley. I told him to suck it up and get back on that track for two more miles. No ifs, ands, or buts. I was determined he was going to finish 40, especially since his goal was at least 50. I knew he’d be unhappy to have quit before 40 and he was perfectly fine, except for the blisters.
So at twelve hours in, 40 miles completed, Drew decided to give it up. So far, this is his mileage PR and I’m proud of what he was able to do. We learned a whole lot from the experience and now know a little more of what to expect in November, which was the purpose of this whole race. But as I was sitting/crewing for Drew, I ruminated on what I learned over the weekend.
We are often, in our world, not particularly uncomfortable on a day-to-day basis. We move through the day in relative comfort and security, generally only complaining of the heat when we emerge from our air-conditioned cars to go into our air-conditioned homes. As I was sitting in the Georgia heat, I realized that this was the longest time in quite some time that I had been without air conditioning. It was certainly the longest I’ve ever participated in a race. And it was the first time I couldn’t just jump in my car after an event and go take a shower. In short, the conditions of the race made me supremely uncomfortable.
I’d raced in the heat, sat in sweaty clothes, eaten food I’d rather not eat, and just basically sweltered for a little over 24 hours. I’d run in conditions I considered less than ideal–heat so intense I couldn’t physically run, pop-up storms that had left me scrambling to save the tent and gear, bugs so thick I didn’t think bug spray would even cut it. But I had a realization as I ruminated on all these things:
I wasn’t the only one suffering these uncomfortable moments. There were 100 other folks out there just as uncomfortable, if not more so. They were sweating, grunting, and grinning their way to the end of their own 6, 12, 24, or 48 hour adventures, and yet I heard no one complain the entire time I was out there.
I realized it was up to me how I framed this discomfort. I could complain about it and feel miserable and probably hate this experience later. Or I could deal with the discomfort and focus on something else. The feats we all accomplished that day (or days) were amazing! The ability of my body to continue on, despite all that discomfort, for hours and hours was nothing short of awesome. The human body is truly capable of so much greatness, even more than I ever realized. Being a part of that experience, of so many people pushing themselves to the limits of what they think is possible, is truly inspiring and I think a bit part of why we continue to go out, despite the small miseries of the day.
Being able to deal with disappointment or discomfort is such a wonderful by-product of all this training. While the old me would have given up at the first sign of discomfort or obstacle and complained every minute on the hour about how miserable I was, the new me has a new perspective. I know now that I can persevere. I know the limits of my body, but I also know the limits of my mind, and I know what it takes to push past those mental barriers to keep on going when things get tough. Of all the lessons I’ve learned running, I think this lesson is the greatest of all. It keeps me going in the darkest of times because I’ve been there before, and I’ve triumphed over that same darkness again and again. All it takes is lacing up my shoes and heading out the door.
Tales from the Back of the Pack 