Crewing and Pacing Dad at Burning River 100, 2016 (Part 2)

Please read part 1, here: https://medium.com/p/pacing-dad-at-burning-river-100-2016-part-1-682429819c18

Typically, pacing at an ultra consists of running alongside or behind the runner, helping them a bit at aid stations if needed, keeping them company and keeping them motivated.

It became clear that this wouldn’t really cut it this time. I started doing everything I could to unload the mental burden on him, he needed to stop thinking about anything other than running.

I started running in front, so that he didn’t have to think about what line to take through the roots, over logs, and across streams, didn’t have to look for the softest and flattest ground in the grassy sections. Just follow me. He didn’t have to think about whether we were on a slope gentle enough to run, or whether he should walk it. Just do what I do. All these little decisions, as small as they were, were adding up to a lot of time. Being much more comfortable on trails, and fresher from having not run all day, these thought processes were trivial to me.

I also continued doing the math. I wear a GPS, he’s old fashioned and doesn’t wear one. He prefers not to know how far he’s gone, how far he has to go, or how long he’s been out there; which is cool except when you’re on the verge of being pulled out of the race just because you weren’t paying enough attention and fell behind.

So we started running. I tried to run at the pace that he was running at, but tried to keep him running through sections that he probably would have not pushed so hard. He started working, HARD. I’m sure he wanted to keep doing the walk/run thing. Going into the race, he expected to be able to run/walk most of the race and hike the rest, if he got to a point where he couldn’t handle running anymore, but he had no more time for that.

Luckily, this section was a little bit easier. With flatter and less technical terrain, it was more runnable. He lost less time than expected. When we came into the 82 mile aid station, he had around 25 minutes to cutoff. Good news, but he wasn’t in the clear yet.

Now that we were in a hurry, I got him out of that aid station even faster than before. I filled up his hydration pack while he filled up his Gatorade bottle and he was out of there. He couldn’t really handle food anymore so there was no reason to stick around. I focused on him first and then stayed behind to take care of myself, since I could “easily” run to catch up. Truthfully, I am not in the shape I was last year, and this was even starting to wear on me.

The physical fatigue was nothing, though, compared to the mental strain I was going through. I was not expecting such a dramatic race to the finish (yes, they are called races, but most of us don’t actually “race” them, usually). I knew he really wanted to finish it, looking back at how much preparation he had done to get there. I was doing every little thing I could to keep him going as fast as he could. I was hoping for him, while deep inside, things looked really grim. It seemed like he was more likely to be pulled than to finish.

So when we got going on the next section, the situation became even more daunting. This was probably the toughest section on the course, it was nearly all climbs and descents, which are the slowest and most painful types of sections to be on. He was losing time again, significantly. It was heartbreaking to watch. I got a text from Brittany, wondering how it was going. She was planning to come run with him for the last five miles. I had to tell her he has really been struggling for a while now, and he wanted me to stick with him to the end; he needed someone with experience to get through what he was going through. I hope she understood. I sent a text to Miranda and Justine to let them know what was happening too. No other options, we pressed on.

Everyone else we saw on the course at this point were moving like zombies. Most seemed to have given up on making the next aid station in time, or had already decided they wouldn’t go further even if they made it. There were a few which were still trying, but were clearly not moving fast enough. Not very encouraging to see. Dad was still really struggling, really digging deep to make this next cutoff. We made it into the next aid station less than 15 minutes ahead of cutoff.

Seeing how desperate the situation was, I was completely distraught internally but of course I couldn’t let Dad see that. I had to keep him focused and moving forward as efficiently as possible, even with how little hope I had left. I continued trying to be encouraging and just not giving up no matter how close he was to being pulled. That was really the above and beyond duty that I was able to fill as a pacer. I did my best to hide from him that the race was nearly lost, I kept that burden of thought to myself so that he could keep on believing that he still had a chance.

“This is what ultra is all about,” I told him. Going for something that sounds impossible. Knowing you can, and might be very likely to, fail and trying anyway; no matter how much you are suffering, not giving up until it is definitively over. Pushing yourself so far past what you believed your limits to be, to achieve some arbitrary goal, as nonsensical as these goals are, just because the journey gives it meaning. This is about everyday people that you know in your lives who wonder what they can endure and get up and go find out. Not pros on TV which have no real impact on your life. This is why I love the sport.

We made it into the 92 mile aid station with, again, around 15–20 minutes to spare. I had texted ahead to Miranda to let her know exactly what we needed. We had Dad in and out within seconds. Miranda has become an aid station pro! Finally, some good news — the next stretch was significantly easier, almost entirely towpath. We expected that he would gain time on the cutoff here, which he did — when we came into the final aid station at mile 97, he was over 30 minutes ahead of cutoff, which meant that he had almost two hours to cover the last five miles (the route was actually 102 miles this year). Finally, he was at the point where he could finish it at a walking pace! Not that the last five would be easy, but the pressure was off.

Now, I actually wish that Brittany had decided to come anyway and was ready to go, or that I had asked Justine take over for the last five miles. I was completely drained by this point, I was not expecting to run almost 50 miles, especially not with such a huge mental component. This had become more exhausting than running my own races! But, I figured if he could get through the last five than I could too. So we pressed on through those last five miles, suffering together, bonding through pain.

Miranda and Justine met us around one mile to go. Coming down the final streets, Uncle Jeff and Stef found us too and followed us to the end. All of their company lifted both of us. The last half mile he cruised through, not feeling held down by anything anymore.

This was far and away the most amazing race finish that I have ever seen. Even if he hadn’t finished, it would still have been the best effort. I have never seen him or anyone work so hard for something, with such intensity, focus, and perseverance; this was a REAL struggle under a lot of pressure. Super proud of him for holding up through it all.

Miranda, Justine, Stef and myself are all extremely happy and thankful that we were about to be a part of this. It’s a lot of good memories and something we will be thinking back on for years to come.

Ultra is a great experience taken as a team sport!