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MacAdventures.ca

Monthly Archives: July 2017

Chapter 1

20 Thursday Jul 2017

Posted by jrwmacdonald in Book

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The following post is a work of fiction – duh. I’ve toyed off and on over the years with writing a novel. I’ve even hashed out a chapter or two from time to time. This chapter I found amongst some old files and thought i’d post it here, hoping for some motivation. Writing is hard work and I tip my hat to any one that can produce a fully formed novel. Perhaps one day I’ll have a story worth telling and the motivation to get it out there. For now here is a rather morbid prelude to a saga currently confined to my own mind.

…………………………………….

September 9:

The house smells like death. The air conditioning quit along with the power a couple days ago and it must be 46 degrees Celsius outside. That would make it somewhere over fifty in this death trap. There is that word again, death. I’ve never seen a dead person before but mum keeps telling me to be prepared because we are going to see lots of them. I don’t want to think about it but it’s hard to think of anything else. We’ve been trapped inside for 27 days now. At least the water is still running. I wonder what dad is up to… I miss him. Is he safe? He must be coming for us. He must be.

…………………………………….

Anna tossed the journal on the coffee table and went back to staring out the closed window. Her mother refused to open the windows and doors despite the heat. Sweat was trickling down her back again and she was thinking of taking another shower. Her mom, Katherine, didn’t like it when she did because they didn’t know if the water supply was still functioning and they could just be wasting the water in their buildings’ holding tanks. The bathtubs were full and they kept all the water bottles topped up just in case. Using the Shower was a compromise. If they couldn’t open the windows and doors then she had to have some way of cooling off.

The couch Anna occupied in front of the large living room window was cluttered with books, paper and candy wrappers. Except for toilet runs and the occasional trip to the kitchen she hadn’t left her mess in days. The candy had actually run out some time back but she couldn’t be bothered to throw the wrappers away. She stared across the street to the big picture window in unit 10. Raji hadn’t come to the window all day and that had Anna worried. Raji and her hit it off the moment they met just 3 months ago. She was from India, someplace in the south. Her dad was a professor at the university and her mom stayed home with Raji and her little brother all the time.

Anna used to wish her mom was one of those stay at home moms. She had this fantasy of her mom always working in the kitchen, stopping only to talk with her over a plate of cookies or to help her with her math homework. She hated math.

That dream was distant now. They had been trapped in that oven posing as a home for too long. They hadn’t shared more than a couple words in weeks and there were definitely no cookies or fresh baked bread in the kitchen. Was Raji’s mother making bread right now? Perhaps that is why she was not at the window today? Maybe they worked out a way to cook with the power out. She suspected they had been out in their backyard using the barbecue a few times. She’d seen Raji eating hot meals at the window.

Their backyards were small but surrounded by 10-foot high walls. They didn’t have a barbecue so there wouldn’t be any outdoor cooking. Even if they did have a barbecue her mother would never allow her to open the door anyway. Her mom was paranoid. What could possibly happen to her in the backyard? Even if the disease was airborne the walls were 10-feet tall. Someone would have to breathe on you or something before you could catch it, she thought. It wasn’t worth the fight; she was tired of fighting.

Anna and her mother had been fighting ever since they left Canada. Anna just finished seventh grade and her parents announced that they were moving to Dubai. To Anna this was the end of the world. Her parents kept telling her that the world was a smaller place now, she could call her friends with the Internet and they would come home for visits every year. They just didn’t get it. She was finally going to leave elementary school. She had imagined going to the big school with her friends Sara and Carmen for forever and now they were going to move to the other side of the planet. Besides, Dubai was in a desert. Deserts had big nasty spiders. She’d seen it on the Discovery Channel.

Anna’s mom was a librarian. When her dad was told the company wanted him in Dubai in six months she started looking for work right away. Katherine always wanted to travel, to see the world but every time she made plans something came along to wreck them. So she was thrilled when everything seemed to just fall into place with their move to Dubai. There was a job opening for a reference librarian at the American University of Sharjah just 15 minutes north of Dubai. She had three videoconference interviews and the job was hers. They wanted her to start work at the beginning of July because all the other librarians wanted to take their vacations in the summer. Anna didn’t understand that until they arrived. It is so hot she wondered how anything survived outside of the range of an air conditioner.

Anna was pretty upset when her parents told her about the move. She was crying when her dad came to tuck her into bed that night. “Anna dear, don’t cry,” he said in that way that told her he was really concerned. They talked forever that night. She loved talking to her dad. By the end of that conversation she knew they had to move because it would make her dad happy. The company needed her dad and he really wanted to go, she could tell. So she told herself to be happy for him and tried really hard not to complain about the move. Then her mom got this job at the university and it was no longer about dad. It was all about mom. So dad was staying behind while Anna and her mom were going to Sharjah all alone. Dad would join them in a few months.

The university provided them housing on campus. Anna let her mind roll over that first day in the United Arab Emirates, the UAE. She had been tired from all the travelling and the time change. She was so tired she felt sick. The town-house, they called it a villa here, was nice though. It had a grand sweeping staircase and big bedrooms. The walls were bare and institutional but the cool air-conditioned breeze coming from the vents in the ceiling was heaven sent. The thought of it pushed her off the couch and down the hall to the bathroom. She didn’t bother to remove her shorts or t-shirt as she stepped into the shower.

Where was her dad? The last they talked he said he was coming for them. He hadn’t said how though. When the TV was still showing the news they said all planes had been grounded and some countries were shooting down any planes that dared to disobey. They said it was to stop the spread of the disease. If they stopped the planes would they stop ships too? How was he coming for them? When was he coming? She shut the water off and sat in the bottom of the shower wondering how everything had gone so wrong so fast.

She was still wet when she climbed back onto the couch but she didn’t care. She went back to staring across the street at Raji’s place. There was a red cloth tied around the door handle of Raji’s neighbor to the left and a red piece of paper stapled to the door to the right. The mark indicated that someone in the house had the disease, which really meant that everyone in the house had the disease. No one inside those homes would ever come out again.

Raji’s front door opened. Anna was startled. It was Raji’s dad. He looked small, thinner than she remembered him. His clothes hung off him and he had a coarse black beard. He looked straight at Anna but he didn’t see her. The windows were tinted but he probably would have missed her if she’d been standing right in front of him. He turned and closed the door and then walked around his block of homes, gone from her view.

“Mom, mom.” Louder, “Mom!” Katherine was next to her.

“What is it, hun? Are you OK?” Katherine stared out the window trying to see what Anna was seeing. “What is it?”

“Raji’s dad, he just left the house and walked that way.” Anna wasn’t sure whether she should be scared or excited. Something was happening.

They stood at the window and waited. Katherine was worried. She thought again about hanging the red t-shirt on the front door. If the Multanis were out of food and he thought the disease had passed her and Anna bye would he think it worth the risk to come for their food? Could she spare him any if he did? Would he take it by force if she refused him? They had little enough as it was. They hardly ate anything now and she practically had to force Anna to eat. She thought they could last another 3 weeks. After that they would have to leave the house. They could maybe last a few more days but if they waited too long they wouldn’t have the energy to find food once they did go.

He was back. Katherine realized that she didn’t know professor Multani’s first name. She had spoken with him several times but never asked him. In his hand was a shovel. He stepped off the curb before he reached the path to his door and began to cross the traffic circle toward them. Katherine slipped her arm around Anna’s shoulder and focused on her breathing. The middle of the square block of row homes all faced the traffic circle, which was, lined with spaces for residents’ cars. The middle of the traffic circle was a large patch of grass. A place where the neighborhood boys played soccer… or football, she reminded herself, in the evenings. At least they did before all this began. Professor Multani stopped now in the middle of the circle and stared, hollow eyed, at their window.

He couldn’t see them, could he? Katherine thought. His eyes moved back and forth across the homes in their row. Were there red marks on the doors of her neighbors’ homes? She hadn’t really met any of them in the few short months they had been there. She had been too busy. She only knew Professor Multani because Anna and his daughter had become friends. She could never be too busy to know what was happening in Anna’s world. Katherine almost smiled at the memory of Anna and Raji running off to the faculty pool together the first day they met. Anna was usually so shy and Katherine had been worried that she would have a hard time making friends but Raji had a beautiful disarming smile and was the opposite of shy. Raji had pulled Anna out of her shell immediately.

Professor Multani pushed the shovel into the sod and turned it over. With slow methodic movements he broke the ground. Katherine was confused for a moment but only a moment.

“Mum, what is he doing?” Anna broke her eyes away from the window to search her mother’s face.

“I don’t think you want to watch this, sweetie.” Katherine made to pull her back from the window gently.

“No, I don’t understand, just leave me.” Anna pulled away slowly and took a grip on the back of the couch. Katherine made no further attempts to move her. They stared fixedly on the gaunt, disheveled man digging in the grass. Katherine was in shock. She had seen images on the news in the first weeks of the pandemic of bodies in the streets, of crying mothers and distraught children. The images would not leave her. Until now the death that must be all around them was hidden behind closed doors. It was represented by pieces of red cloth or paper. She watched with stoicism as he turned every shovel-full over.

It was late afternoon but the sun and the heat was relentless. Sweat ran off the professor’s face and flattened his thin hair against his head. The most difficult part was removing the sod. He was afraid he would not be able to complete the grim task. His body and mind were numb though and he hardly noticed his rapidly failing strength. Katherine wondered what she could do for him. It was too soon to leave the house. She dared not risk it…

“Professor Multani” Anna said. Then again, a little louder, “Professor.”

He paused and looked up from his work. It took him a few moments to understand what he was looking at. Raji’s friend was standing beside him holding a milk jug filled with water and a red shirt.

“I brought you some water.” She said. “I would help you dig but you have the only shovel.” Anna opened the milk jug and poured water over the red shirt before handing it to him. “This should keep your head cool.”

He reached slowly for the shirt doing his best not to touch the girl. He waited until she set the jug on the ground before he reached to take a drink. He could not remember the girl’s name and that pained him. He did not bother to ask it now though. “Thank you,” he offered weakly as he removed the jug from his lips and tied the cool wet shirt around his head. He went back to shoveling. Now that the sod was gone the digging was much easier. The sod was brown and dead too but the roots still held the little soil together. He arranged the blocks of sod to the right of the hole and began to throw the fine sand it rested on in a pile to the left.

“If I could find a couple more shovels could Raji and I help you dig?” Anna asked tentatively. Anna suspected why he was digging but wasn’t sure. She could not bring herself to ask directly.

“No, child, this is a task only I can do.” He didn’t know how else to respond to her. He concentrated on his digging and let the slow rhythmic motion shield him from his thoughts. Blisters rose on his hands almost instantly. It had been too long since he’d done this sort of work. The sand found its way into a few of his freshly opened sores. He imagined the sand turning in circles like it does in a riverbed slowly eroding holes in the rocky bottom. Would it do the same to him?

The sun was too much for Anna. She sensed that the professor would not say anything more. She did not want him to. Turning slowly she started back toward the house. Her mom waited in the doorway.

Katherine wanted to slap her. She wanted to hug her too. She was angry with Anna but ashamed that she did not think to bring water. Ashamed that she did not have the courage to act where Anna did. Was it courage? Was Anna courageous or just naïve? She could see the determined look on Anna’s face as she approached the door, the defiance. Naivety yes, but courage too.

“Did he touch you, Anna?” Katherine asked softly not really wanting an answer. Anna didn’t give her one. Katherine stepped aside to let her in the house and they walked back to the couch and the window. In a few hours the professor was standing chest deep in a long narrow hole and only the soft glow of the sun remained. The stars would soon be out in all of their majesty. With the power out it was truly dark when night came on.

Anna was asleep. A mercy, Katherine thought. She would miss what came next. Katherine wished she could sleep, could give up control of her mind for just a while. Images of her bedroom in Canada drifted in. She could feel the soft linens on her bed against her skin. Mark was asleep beside her. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as it pressed against her back. She did not need protection then but she had it though she had never thought of it that way. Where was Mark now? There last conversation was weeks ago. The Internet failed before the power did. She had fallen asleep talking with him and when she awoke the connection was gone. She had imagined that when they were old, very old, they would fall asleep together one night and when she awoke she would find him passed away in their bed. She might live a few more years but would join him sooner than later. She checked the network every hour after the connection failed until the blackout.

The digging stopped. Professor Multani opened the front door to his home and disappeared inside. He left the door wide open. The moon had crested the rooftops and cast a faint light on the block. In a few moments he emerged from the doorway. In his arms, judging by the size, he carried his wife wrapped tightly in a white sheet. She was a slight woman with a soft voice Katherine recalled. He struggled to carry her now and awkwardly lowered her into her resting place. Then he returned to the house, the door still wide open. Katherine prayed silently that Anna would remain asleep.

He lowered Raji’s lifeless frame slowly until she lay next to her mother. He did not stop then else he may not have the strength for what was left. He returned to the house for the last time. The small body of his son was carefully wrapped and cradled in his arms. The boy was 2 or possibly 3 years old. Katherine had seen him only a few times and now regretted having never paid him any attention. The professor struggled into the hole he had dug to place the body of his son with the rest of his small family. He then struggled out of the hole to sit on its edge and stare down at his life irrevocably taken from him. He desperately wanted to believe in a god or the gods then. He wasn’t after solace but someone, something to blame. In the end he blamed himself though he knew that was as irrational as believing in the gods.

Katherine could no longer bear to watch. She wanted to do something for the man but what comfort could she possibly offer. Standing she drew the curtains closed and then laid down on the rug in front of the couch. She could not think and could not stop thinking. She forced herself to concentrate on her breathing until she could no longer sense the passage of time. She slept, mercifully a dreamless and deep sleep.

As the early morning light crept through the edges of the curtains Anna woke. It took her a few moments to realize where she was and when she did she wanted to be asleep again. She couldn’t sleep though. The memory of Raji’s father digging was a wedge holding her in reality. She made to stand up and noticed her mother lying on the carpet. Looking at her mother’s face, the worry lines relaxed, she suddenly regretted the tension that had existed between them these last few months. Slowly she drew herself from the couch and made her way to the front door.

The professor did not appear to be outside. The door to the Multani’s stood open but she could see no one around the home. There was a large pile of dirt next to the hole he had dug and there were crows perched all around the excavation. Cautiously Anna approached it. The birds scattered at her approach and argued loudly at her intrusion. She caught a faint unpleasant odor as she drew nearer. She feared what she was about to see but could not turn aside. Lying in the bottom of the hole were three bodies wrapped tightly in white sheets and the professor. His eyes were wide open and his face marked by the birds she had scattered. Anna turned aside then and wretched. Her whole body convulsed and forced her onto her knees.

The air was muggy and oppressive and the stench of her vomit almost forced her to vomit again. She dry heaved as she backed away from the mess. Anna felt strangely ashamed at her puking. Raji was in that hole, that grave. Rolling onto her back she lay still for some time, too still. The birds began to return. This made her angry. Staggering up she grabbed the shovel and swung it violently at the foul creatures. The birds evaded her but did not go far.

Slowly Anna began to shovel the sand into the grave. She did not watch the sand land on the bodies but kept her eyes fixed on the pile before her. Her mother appeared after some time with an extra shovel and they worked together on the grave. When it was full they dragged the dry sod as best they could back into place.

Anna and Katherine stood at the grave in reflection for only a short time before the heat of the sun forced them into the shade. “Mom I think there is something wrong with me.” Anna said as they went inside.

“What!” Katherine cupped Anna’s face in her hands and looked into her eyes.

“I have not cried, mom. I cannot cry.” She said weakly.

“Oh dear, those will come.” Katherine pulled her into her arms and fought her own need to cry. She escorted Anna to the table and poured her a glass of water. “Now, Anna, we must talk about what it is that we are to do.”

……………………………………….

September 10: 

Today I buried my friend Raji, her little brother and her mom and dad. Mom says we cannot stay here much longer. We are alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A near death experience

16 Sunday Jul 2017

Posted by jrwmacdonald in race, running, USA

≈ 6 Comments

I am in the hospital. This isn’t the type of place that I frequent, at least not as a patient. The heart rate monitor attached to my finger makes typing difficult but I suppose that is the least of my worries. Or perhaps it is my biggest worry at the moment? I feel great. It appears my travel insurance will cover these couple nights here too. The nurses, doctors and staff at the Logan Regional Hospital have been fantastic. I fully expected to wait in the emergency room for 3-4 hours (standard Canadian practice) before being admitted but I was in the door in minutes and had a doctor almost immediately. Since then the stay has been top notch. Though as we dialed up our insurance company before heading to the hospital and again on admittance (they were actually great too) I wondered whether I would take the 3 hour wait over the anxiety of whether I’d have to pay for this much needed visit out of pocket.

How did I get here in the first place? It started at the end of the Canadian Death Race in 2015. That was my second ultra marathon and it was awesome. My running buddy, Jeremy and I, immediately made plans for our next ultra together and we chose the 100k Beaverhead Endurance Race for the summer of 2017. Then life happened. Jeremy went home to Finland and kept running. The Beaverhead would become his 12th ultra marathon and for me number 3. I’ve got a million excuses. Some of them are even good. None of them matter when you are fighting to catch your breath at the peak of a jagged mountain staring at the next summit in your way. The Beaverhead is reportedly the most rugged ultra marathon in Northwest America. I’m no expert but I’d be surprised to find a tougher race. There were 89 entrants for the 100k option 44 didn’t complete it.

Jeremy and I camped out at the start line the night before the race. The alternative was to take a ~3am shuttle from Salmon, Idaho to the start line at Bannock Pass. Camping out gave us an extra hour of sleep. Not that the sleep was great. We pitched a borrowed 2-man tent that wasn’t quite long enough for either of us to fully stretch out. If it had rained we would’ve been soaked. I was grateful for it nonetheless, it kept the mosquitoes at bay. Bannock Pass is at about 7,400 feet in elevation and looks out on a green rolling landscape worthy of the artists paintbrush. It took the breath away. Literally. I’m used to 2,200 feet above sea level. 7,000 is a stretch. The course offers about 12,000 feet of elevation gain over the 100k distance rising and falling between ~7,400 and ~10,000 feet above sea level. I have zero experience running at elevation.

Campsite at Bannock Pass looking south (opposite direction of the race)

The bus with our competitors rolled in about 4:20am and we scrambled to get prepared for our 5am departure. The race crew kindly transported our camping gear back to the the finish line for us. The forty minutes before the race went by way too quickly. No time to even visit the loo. We lined up in the semi-dark, our headlamps and a full moon illuminating the way before us and counted off the seconds that slipped away on a big digital clock brought out for the occasion. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1” and off we went into the dark, reflective stakes pounded into the ground pointing out the way. What a feeling! Setting off on an immense challenge, feeling the muscles and tissues in your body reverberating with excitement and knowing the joy of being young and healthy. There is always a bit of anxiety of course and for me, on this day, not having put in the training I wanted and should have, there were variables that made me a little nervous. I was elated all the same to be running with my old friend Jeremy. It’s been nearly 2 years!

We soon moved into single track running and within a few kilometers the pack was spread out. The trail winds through an undeniably gorgeous backdrop and those first few kilometers were great for lulling you into a sense of ease. There were a good number of aid stations on this run. I can’t remember them all but they seemed to be spaced fairly evenly throughout the course. Arriving at the first station I was pleased to see PB&J sandwiches and Pepsi – these places were excellently stocked. The folks manning them were awesome too. There were no fancy GPS tracking gadgets so we found ourselves calling out our bib numbers as we came in and out, hoping the folks with the clipboards would get them down.

Jeremy set a manageable pace. We strove to keep the heart rate down by power walking the hills and running the downhills. My immediate goal was simply to keep up with Jeremy as long as I could. After that I planned to shift into a power walk with occasional light jog for the remainder of the race. As kilometre 18 drifted by it occurred to me that every K after this would be the longest distance I’d run in quite a while (a year perhaps). At about 20 kilometres my right toe caught the edge of a rock or a root and the shock instantly threw my right calf into a terrible spasm and cramp. I had to flex hard to keep the muscle from seizing completely. Not cool. It was very clear to me at this point, having hardly done a half marathon, that my fitness level was not where it should be. Jeremy gave me a salt tab and within a couple minutes the cramp began to release. Okay – clearly I was losing sodium more quickly than I’d anticipated. The day was growing hot fast.

Jeremy left me at about the 28 kilometre mark. He just slowly started pulling away. He kept looking back but I waved him on. I thought that’d be the last I saw of him but he was cheering me on as I pulled into the next aid station. He set out walking as I grabbed a few calories. He had to return when he realized he’d forgotten his poles. So off we set once more together. We stuck together for another 10k or so. I seemed to burst through something of a wall and we made some great time on a few long downhill portions of the course. Our drop bags were waiting for us at the 45k mark. Jeremy pulled away about 5k before then. My renewed energy and strength was waning and to tell the truth this is where the trouble really began. The heat of the day was pressing now and I made an error I’ve made many times before. I chose to wear a black long sleeve shirt and black hat when I set out in the morning expecting I’d reach my drop bag with lighter clothing before the heat could catch me. I was close.

With a few kilometres to my drop bag I ran out of water. I was doing everything I could to keep my body cool. At each aid station I would load my hat with ice and leave it to melt on my head. My sleeves drawn back and my collar as wide as it could go yet the sweat was flowing. I moderated my pace to keep my heart rate down but it hardly seemed to help. Worse even was the hot spots forming on my feet. I hate blisters and generally speaking I rarely get them. I’ve never lost a toenail like so many other ultra runners and I very rarely develop blisters of any significance. This one forming on the outsides of both big toes and the back of my left heel was giving me some trepidation. Where was that aid-station and drop bag? I was running on a fairly smooth jeep track winding its way through rolling hills and Idaho scrub when I seemed to spot the stop a ways out and up! My heart sank – “It must still be 2k away,” I thought. I pressed on worried about my growing dehydration and foot soreness knowing that at these temperatures without water a few hundred meters in either direction could spell relief or disaster.

Some race official was walking the course in the opposite direction. I wanted to quip he was headed the wrong way as I passed but I was hurting. “The aid-station is just ahead” he called. I thought him a bit of a Jerk – I’d clearly seen the vehicles at least another kilometre away now obscured by the hill I was climbing. To be fair a kilometre really is “just ahead” but it might as well have been a thousand in my mind. But then cresting the hill there it was hidden in a little bowl in the land like cool crystal waters in a land of fire. I made it and not a moment too soon. I queued up to the table and a volunteer was taking my empty water bottles and another asking after my drop bag. Jeremy was there looking like a master of his element, confident and cool, coiled to strike out on the course. He asked if he should wait for me but I waved him on. I knew I’d be at this station for a while. He pressed into my hand a small black bottle labeled “Hot Shot” and then sped off, words of encouragement lingering behind him.

I found a chair in the shade and downed a litre of water. I was suddenly ravishing. Normally it is a struggle for me to eat after 40k of running but here I found myself struggling to hold back. I ate and I ate and I ate. A volunteer suddenly appeared above me, in his hands he clutched an armful of sweating pop cans, their cool interiors reacting with the oppressive heat around them. We exchanged some words I’m sure but all I recall is the brilliant blue Pepsi can and his smile as it slipped from his hand to mine. A shaded chair, my shoes removed from my feet and the sensation of cool fizzing liquid sugar passing my parched lips combined for the perfect sense of euphoria. This is all I needed. I could stop the race right now. No, I finished repairing my feet and changed into my lighter shirt and hat. My body temperature fell, it seemed, a couple degrees. I was ready to press on.

I peeled open the small black bottle Jeremy had given me. I wasn’t sure what I’d find… a powder, pills, no, an ominous dark liquid. I reexamined the bottled and confirmed I was supposed to drink it. It felt a little Alice in Wonderland as I tipped it back. It burned going down. I chased it down with some water and hoped for the best. I moved off down the trail thanking the volunteers at the aid station and falling in with another runner. Turns out Jeb, this runner, had completed the 55k last year but not without some trouble. He explained that last year he fell in the infamous “boulder field” and opened a cut below his knee requiring 8 stitches. In true ultra form he finished the race regardless, just a little bloody. Much more lay ahead I realized than what came before. I was climbing and my mind and body found a compatible mutual gear. More a walk than a run but my poles worked to push me forward with every step in a stubborn rhythm. I wouldn’t do much more running in this race but I had it in my teeth and I wasn’t letting go.

The next miles are something of a blur. I was racing the clock and much of my time was comprised of math. How fast was I moving? If I moved at 9 minutes per kilometre what time would I make the next aid station and how close to the cut off would that put me (10 minutes, 11 minutes, 12 minutes)? This terrain minus the increase in blister size on my right foot plus the possibility of elevation gain minus possible downhill sections divided by my time at the last aid station would put me into the next cut off with so much to spare. But if this rain storm approaching is at all severe how long might it take to put on the rain gear and what will the rain do to the trail? I hate math by the way. I made it into the 3:30pm cutoff station with hours to spare. I inquired after Jeremy and learned he was about 30 minutes ahead of me. I’d inquire after him at every aid station and watch him pull ever so slowly away from me.

A storm was gathering along the mountain I was ascending, The thought of rain was a good one. I could hear the growing repeat of thunder though. I was running along a high ridge of the Continental Divide when the rain began and I had to put on my shell. I stopped next to the charred remains of a past lightning strike to pull it on. The booming of thunder as I ran through a forest of historical lightning strikes was unnerving. My metal trekking poles lightning rods in my hands. I morosely wondered what it might feel like to be struck by lightning. Would there be any warning? I suddenly could run again.

As the race progressed the race directors seemed more and more masochistic. I seemed to be climbing all the time. I was playing leap frog with what I knew was the final half dozen to dozen runners on the course. Some of us were not going to make the next cut-off. Would it be me? I was starting to hope it would be me. The last cutoff was 7:30pm. I was watching the clock. I told myself I would run for it at 7:15 if I was still not there. It was with mixed relief that the aid station appeared on the hill above me at 7:15. I’d make it. I wouldn’t need to run for it. I’d make it. Was that a good thing?

I collapsed into a chair at the aid station next to a jovial volunteer flipping quesadillas on the barbecue. “You need a quesadilla my friend!” And magically a corn tortilla was in my hand. I’d beat the cutoff by 12 minutes and I thought I might just die right there. 5 minutes washed away as I fumbled with my phone to text Lisa. The urge to let her know I was still alive seemed urgent to me and I was glad to find a weak cell signal. “Um, not trying to rush you but you should know that the cut-off at 7:30 means you need to leave the aid station by that time.” Wait, What? This was news to me and not good news. I looked down at my legs. There were dozens of small flies feasting on them. I looked at my watch. 7:27. I stood and borrowed a can of bug spray to douse my shaking legs. I shoved half the quesadilla down my throat and suppressed a violent gag reflex. The remainder went in a trash bin. “Thanks everyone! #47 heading out!” It was 7:28pm. As I pulled away I heard the volunteers tell the gentlemen right behind me the next cut off was the last aid station 4.5 miles away at 11pm. 3.5 hours to cover 4.5 miles shouldn’t be a problem I thought even if there is some “boulder field” in the way.

There was no trail really. All that lay before me was a field of jagged boulders the bones of some ancient mountain reaching up to stab and slice at those that would dare to disturb their rest. The sun was falling in front of me and I worried that I’d be trapped on these mountains in the dark. To my right the land fell immediately away, a cliff towering above moraine lakes and scree fields below. Beautiful valleys to my left teased with the knowledge that somewhere among them we would descend to the finish line. We final three on the course spoke little. Though we took queues from one another. When one rested the others seemed to receive permission to rest too. When one moved the others seemed drawn to move too. Each peak seemed to be followed by yet another in an endless procession into hell. Planting my poles between a few rocks I bent and pulled for air watching my sweat splash against the parched rocks at my feet. “I don’t care” I said. “I can miss the next cutoff, they can pull me from the course – I don’t care.” #11, smiled. “Yes you do, you care” she said. “Ok, yes I care but I don’t care” I rejoined and raised my head and my poles. It was time this was over.

We came off the boulder field suddenly and in a steep dive. The trail snaked sharply down the mountainside requiring you to use the surrounding trees to arrest your descent. It was nearly steep enough to slide down on your backside. If my quads had anything left it was about to be spent on this. The sun failed and I stopped to retrieve my headlamp. The trail was marked by a series of reflective stakes like glow bugs in some enchanted forest. I pulled into that final aid station about 20 minutes after 10pm having spent nearly the past 3 hours covering 4.5 miles. It was by far the most difficult 4.5 miles of my life. I felt like throwing up. A volunteer handed me a small cup full of fruit smoothie as I settled into a chair. #11 was there reminding me to be pleased with my achievement. I liked her attitude.

This was it. Just 9 more kilometers to go on a trail from all accounts that was relatively tame. I could cover that distance in my current condition in about 100 minutes I calculated. It was about 10:30pm when I stood up. I was going to finish this thing. I found a pace and pushed it a little harder. Down to the finish line. The river crossings at the end were a nice touch. The cool water on my feet was amazing. Soon enough I could see the lights of the finish line in the distance. Every time the trail veered away from the finish I felt the sting of annoyance. I concentrated on the time. No sense expecting the finish line before midnight. Then it was midnight and I was still on the trail. 10 more minutes. 10 more minutes. “Go James.” It was Jeremy’s voice. Jeremy was there on the side of the trail in a chair, the finish line out of sight. Was I hallucinating? “Go buddy, you’ve got 200 meters left.” 200 meters! My poles were in my hands and I was running, running down hill, running to the finish line. Running to my family, to freedom to relief and ecstasy and… I was running. Breathe. I fought tears, joyful tears. There was the clock (19 hours and 11 minutes) and the finish and tears desperately wanting to spill down my cheeks and pour out the last of my energy onto the ground. My girls were there and running with me. I crossed the line and felt my knees go. I was on my back staring up at smiling faces and thanking God for my life, for this body capable of so much. I knew that were I to finish it would be a triumph of mind over matter. It was an epic battle and my mind won. Though I would learn that my body wasn’t going to go quietly.

 

I won’t try to describe the feeling of finishing such a race. Those moments right after when you chat with competitors (there were only a handful of us left) is surreal. It was after midnight. I hoped to crawl straight into a tent and fall asleep. Lisa informed me we were instead going to drive three hours south to our friends the Anderson’s. She figured the ride would be worth the real bed. I couldn’t argue that. We had already imposed on the Anderson’s for nearly a week and I was reticent to inflict myself on them anymore but who was I to argue. Matt and Yvonne if you read this you need to know you are the embodiment of sainthood. Thank you.

It was a fitful ride back but I was hardly conscious even when I was technically conscious. At some point in the wee hours of the morning I took a shower and scrubbed myself as clean as I could. Then I threw up. That Hot Shot at kilometre 45 seemed to return with vengeance. At least the black vomit that swirled below my parched lips looked, smelled and tasted like the little vial I’d downed earlier. I felt marginally better. We rested at the Anderson’s where I fought recurring episodes of vomiting until about 4:30pm. Then we piled into the van with its poor attempt at an air conditioner to make the 3-hour drive to Logan, Utah where we planned to stay with friends before dropping the kids at summer camp at the University of Utah on Monday afternoon. “If I throw up one more time I think I’d better go to the hospital.” I told Lisa. Then the hiccup fit began. My feet on the dash and a bucket in my lap my chest spasming every few moments threatening to expel what little fluid I had left in my body. I took some anti-nausea meds (Gravol) just before getting in the car but they didn’t seem to be doing much.

I held on as long as I could before puking in the car. Lisa cracked the windows and we stopped at a gas station to rinse out the bucket. It was time for a hospital. We arrived at our friends’ home and announced my predicament. We could not have better friends. Marvin loaded me into his car after we called the insurance company and took me into Logan Regional Hospital. I figured they’d give me some anti-nausea medicine and some IV fluids. I’d be out in a few hours. Dr. Stolworthy had other ideas. He seemed rather concerned when he told me he needed to admit me for 3-4 days and that I’d developed something called Rabdomyolysis. Essentially my muscles had begun to break down and the resulting proteins were too large for the kidneys to handle. Eventually the condition would lead to renal failure, possible nerve damage and other nasty things. Lisa got on the phone with the insurance company and we proceeded as the doctors directed. There were all sorts of folks popping their head in and out of the room before I was officially wheeled off to the ICU. One young doctor appeared next to the bed and announced that Dr. Stolworthy had told her to come by and look at me. That my case was “interesting.” Everyone that saw me over the next couple days mentioned how impressive it was that I’d run 100 kilometres. Naturally, I thought it’d be much more impressive were I not lying in a hospital.

Honestly, I don’t feel any less about that 100 kilometre accomplishment even though it ended in a stay at the hospital. The hospital was about the best thing that could have happened. Sure they came around every few hours to stick needles in me but I slept. That first night I was racked with the worst hiccups I’ve ever experienced but they pumped me full of enough anti-nausea medicine that I did not throw up again. They hung bag after bag of IV fluids and kept a close eye on my sodium, potassium, “CK-protein” and other levels. Sure I had to get up every hour to pee but for the first day someone was there to unplug me and help me wheel the IV stand to the restroom. I was admitted Sunday evening. By Monday evening I was unhooking myself and getting in and out of bed unassisted. By Tuesday I was writing this post and feeling amazing. At least comparatively.

The doctors seemed to think my situation was concerning. They put me through a few tests including an EKG. My heart rate was concerning for me, resting in the 70s when it ought to be in the high 40s. There was some concern about a high “T wave” but in the end everything checked out. In fact, I checked out of the hospital Tuesday evening and Lisa and I headed into Salt Lake City to dinner with an old mission companion. I felt like I’d just been raised from the dead. I’m sure my family will never let me live this down. Most of them have promised to kick my butt when they next see me. I’m not too concerned.

So what have I learned? I’m not sure I know yet. There is the obvious: clearly I need to spend more time and effort on my preparation for these things, my mind is capable of killing me and I’m happy to be alive. Jeremy finished his race in just over 16 hours. I was about 2 hours behind him. The apprentice has truly become the master. What I’ve really been reminded of through this whole thing… how much I love my wife. She cried for just a moment in the hospital and it struck me how meaningless it’d all be without her.

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