Mile 50 and Beyond

From “OMG” to “My God! My God!!!” and back again…

I read through my last post just now. It struck me how ironic it is that I urge you, the reader, to think of the displaced, tortured, raped and murdered Congolese every time that you use your phone but I make no mention of that very connection when talking about the text that I received saying, “Thanks to Dan’s run three women have been sponsored…” a text on a cell phone that I paid for. The truth is I didn’t make that connection until more recently while I was thinking of all of this. The sobbing seems to become even more appropriate… if what I have discovered about Congo is true and if you consider it, you can’t refute what an insidious existence we live. How sad to contemplate.

I will add to this by saying I won’t admonish myself. I think there is some impulse in me to feel guilty. This impulse I’ve learned is fundamentally ego-centric and making it about “me” is no road to a solution. I will simply make an effort to acknowledge these kinds of connections in my life when I see them. I will no longer ignore them or “put the book down” as I did with the book on the Rwandan genocide. That is my commitment. I’ve learned that if I start with a simple recognition, I will inevitably build the momentum and the strength to act. Its what running 50 miles entailed in the first place... contemplation into decision-making, into action and then action into powerful action (hopefully).

When I decided to run for Congo I had no idea of the complexity of its circumstance. I knew by the articles I read that the situation was grave and most likely in many ways beyond my immediate comprehension. I certainly had no desire to connect myself as a contributor to such a horror story but essentially this is what I see. And after seeing this, I feel obligated to say what I believe… because we benefit from this, we should in the very least acknowledge it. This is the message we need to tell ourselves. This is what will bring change. And who in their right mind can possibly say that this situation should not change? This is about all of us, not just one person.

Softly
and silently
like tears
their blood falls
on our hands
while we sleep.

Fundamentally I’m talking about what connects us all beyond any government, race or religion… our basic principle, our humanity. After speaking to Lisa Shannon on the phone that night, I received a lot of messages from the “Thousand Sisters” network. It was just people reaching out to tell me they were inspired by what I was doing and to wish me luck. It was very powerful and humbling. I never really expected that. Its something I have within me now (whether I like it or not!).

I view our lack of knowledge of the situation in Congo as a form of sleep. I’ve witnessed how people react when I discuss it openly. There’s a very strong impulse to “stay asleep”… as if they are saying, “Don’t disturb me! Don’t awaken me to this! Please, I can’t be accountable! It is too, too incomprehensibly horrific!”

Fortunately for me (or unfortunately, depending on if you feel that ignorance is truly bliss), I attached this, what would be, abstract notion of the suffering people of Congo to my ultra marathon training. I was unable to lull myself back to sleep in relation to it. I had to contemplate it for roughly 6 months. Looking back I have to say that there was a strange tone of intention to this as I embarked on attaining my goal. Like something in the back of my mind was telling me that if I was to make my existence more meaningful, I needed to make myself more aware of those whose existence was more about survival. I had spent years focusing on things like company politics, making more money and losing weight… things of this nature. Then I got married and brought two children into the world. I wanted more from their dad. For weeks I kept thinking of the first story on Congo that I ever read… the account of Generose, Claude and Lucien. A family forever changed by brutality and murder.
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Mile 50

Mile 50 was approaching and Liz was now the quiet one. I asked her if she could think of anything to talk about and she responded somewhat jokingly, “I have no idea how you’re going to react to what I’m saying.” I think the sobbing episode freaked her out a bit. I’m not one who usually goes around sobbing.

We moved on and the one guy who was keeping with my pace during the last 5 miles or so was finishing up the race with a young woman who could have been his girlfriend or sister. He was the big guy that I saw back at the mile 38 aid station. He later told me his name was Adam (I think). We took turns passing each other once or twice at our incredibly slow, 16 minute or so per mile pace. Just prior to mile 50 he passed me and ended up crossing the finish line in front of me. I don’t know if that was his intention… like “I’m going to come in 30 seconds before this guy!” or not. Either way I didn’t care. If you finish at 11 hours or 11 hours and one minute is there really a difference? Liz and I spoke about it later. That’s not why I did this. There are a lot of competitive people in the world, I know who would shake their heads at this… whatever.

Liz and I approached the mile 50 marker on the road and I became more conscious… Like there was a small burst of excitement in me… Mile 50… I told myself that I would think of Stan on mile 50 again and he immediately came to mind. His smile. His joy. I felt alive. I asked Liz if she ever read the dedication that I wrote for him on my website and she said no. She’d looked through a few iterations of what I wrote but I put that in last and she never caught it. She resisted going into a discussion about him. She wanted me to finish in good spirits.

After the mile 50 marker there were a couple of guys standing by a parked pick up truck watching us go by. “Almost there now!” they called. We turned down a dead end road. I remembered this part from the tour the day before. The road stopped abruptly. There was a guard rail that you had to maneuver around and then a field of grass for about 500 feet until you came to a campus parking lot. From there we ran the cross country course that we started on. Through grass (that felt nice after pounding the pavement for 49 and a half miles) to the finish.

There was construction all over the campus. At one point a course marker pointed straight to a waist high, fenced off barricade. It was one of those temporary flimsy, plastic orange fences that they put up around town fairs and such. It was all jacked up. Runners had to climb over it to move on. A side note… after running 49.7 miles, the last thing you want to be involved in is climbing fences. Adam and his young lady friend went over first and Liz and I soon followed. Liz said, “I can’t believe they’re making you do this on mile 50!” I didn’t care. I don’t think Adam did either… We had the finish line on our minds.

Adam and his friend jogged up ahead and Liz and I trotted along. We ran over the plywood that was thrown on the mud through a path of trees. The same path we ran out on that morning. The end was very close…

Up the grass hill, around the fence and the finish line was in sight. I saw Emily playing in the vacant road by the big digital timer. The finish line was the same as the starting line. I know I was exhausted but my senses were heightened. This was a moment I would remember for the rest of my life.

The sun was still out but evening was soon approaching. Liz began to jog away from me as the finish line approached. Steve stood behind the finish line and took shots of me coming in. I looked at the pictures later and when I flipped through them I got an idea of how bad my hobbling was. Again, I didn’t care.

There were about ten people total at the finish line including my caravan… Steve, Laura, William, Emily and Liz… a bit of a different scene than the New York City Marathon finish line. They were all cheering me on. There was some cheering and clapping from the folks I didn’t know. I hobbled and hobbled and I raised my arms as I crossed…

I DID IT!!!

I DID IT!!!

I DID IT!!!

I DID IT!!!

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I did what I set out to do. I accomplished this monumental task. I felt a swelling of all kinds of emotions as I stood there but most of all I felt pride. That stays with me now too. Just like the suffering of the Congolese. To me running 50 miles was as close to doing something impossible as you could imagine and I did it. I now believe with all of my heart that I can do anything I put my mind to. I never believed this before. I would always say it or think it but I BELIEVE it now. This is truly a blessing. I know most people do not feel this.

Emily ran up to me and ran away. She was glad to see me but she doesn’t like it when I’m “all sweaty”. I walked around a bit. My head was buzzing and I remember feeling like my eyes were wide open. Tom, the race organizer handed me a medal wrapped in plastic. I put it on. Steve and I then posed for some pictures together. Emily then came over again to see the medal. I grabbed her and thrusted her up over my head up and down several times. We call that “blast off!” She started laughing. I put her down and she and Willie ran up and down the wooden ramp to the trailer-like office where the race “headquarters” was positioned. There were a few tents with some food and drink. I didn’t want any.

I just walked around for a bit and then I laid down on the grass. There were some kids sitting there and I made a corny joke about having just taken a lap around the pond. They laughed surprisingly hard at that one. I laid on my back waiting for my legs to stop pounding. That didn’t happen.

Eventually everyone made it to the Forerunner which was in the parking lot about 200 feet away. My legs were SORE… When I got there Laura was chasing Emily around the lot while Liz changed Will’s diaper in the back of the truck. “How are we driving home?” I asked. Liz said, “Steve’s driving. You’re in the passenger seat and Laura and I are going to crunch in the back with the kids.” Sounds good.

I got in the passenger seat and moved my legs. I moved them again. I was trying to get comfortable. I moved them again. It dawned on me that it was going to be a while before my legs were “comfortable.” I just sat still accepting their uncomfortable condition. I looked at Steve who was in the driver’s seat. “We did it.” I said. He looked back and responded, “We did it.”

Will close this up soon!!!! still more to come...

Mile 42.5

The 42.5 mile aid station was at a turn in the road. We would run up to the intersection and take a left. Again, my memory is less clear about the details of the end of the run… I remember more about how I was feeling and what I was thinking. What I do recall is approaching this station in close proximity to Lauren and Sarah (either in front of them, in back of them or along side them… I don’t remember) and seeing the black Forerunner pulling up at the station ahead. HEY!!! Its Liz! I kept on looking to see who was in the truck… I was about 200 feet from the station. Was it Liz or Laura? Who came back to see me?

Eventually I made it to the tent. It was everyone. Liz, Laura, Steve and the 2 kids. What a relief to see everybody. I stopped at the truck and chatted a bit. Again my spirits were lifted. Steve sat up front and looked exhausted. Liz and Laura jumped out and started planning what they were going to do next. And the kids stayed in their car seats… My poor babies. They smelled like Cheetos. Will’s hair was crusty. They’d been towed around in this truck all day and I’m sure Liz and Laura were pulling any move just to prevent total melt-downs from either kid. Though I didn’t see any, Cheetos seemed to be an integral part of the strategy. I will say the kids seemed very happy. I drank some Gatorade and Laura took some pictures. I gave Willie a kiss on the head and went around the other side of the car to kiss Emily… “No Daddy, you’re all sweaty!...” Ok, ok, no kisses…

There were several minivan/suv type vehicles parked all around and tents set up with signs:

CAN LAKE 50
50 m 42.5 mi
50k 23.5 mi
Aid Station #10
Arnold Road
Next Aid Station 3.7 miles

This I know from the pictures Laura took. Liz then said she would run the last 7.5 miles with me if I wanted. I said I would love it. But I warned her, “I don’t know if you could technically call what I’m doing ‘running’ anymore.” She didn’t care. Laura and Steve were going to take the kids to the finish line and wait for us. Liz took off her sweat shirt and was wearing her Jersey City, Newport half marathon shirt. That was the first race we trained for together before the kids were born. She then said why don’t you get going. I’ll catch up. So I started walking down the road thinking about turning the walk into a jog.

Liz caught up and we were off together. Because she knows I “get a little crazy” at these points she started asking me about how I was doing and what I wanted her to do. She threw a couple of options out… “…I can coach you to get you faster or I can just run quietly next to you… How do you feel?” I told her I’d like to get moving a little faster but I wasn’t feeling great. Liz got me psyched up into a slow jog and we kept on for a while.

We started talking about the pace. At this point I was going at a slow trudge so we talked about her helping me get up to some kind of jogging speed. As I said before there were mile markers for the last 10 miles so I was half consciously and half willingly timing my pace per mile. We hit one of the markers and I said to Liz, “That was better, what was that?... about a 12 minute mile?” She responded, “Sixteen minutes.” “Oh my God…” I said. It felt like I just ran an 8 minute mile… She said, “You’ve been walking.” Yeah, yeah, yeah… that’s right. I was hurting and my brain wasn’t working right. We kept on and on, talking and jogging and walking.

Lauren and Sarah were now up ahead past me. I wasn’t going to see them again. I lost them when I stopped at the 42.5 station. There were several other straggling runners trudging along ahead and behind at around my pace. We may have passed each other once or twice but there was very little conversation amongst us.
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Running with Liz

An aside here… People make the assumption that I love running because I got myself into doing this ultra. After all of the training I’ll say that I definitely like it more than I used to. I’ve gotten a lot out of this entire experience. The training itself took almost a year! But the truth is, when I decided to train for this it wasn’t about running at all. For me it was more about accomplishing the impossible. Even though ultra running is growing in popularity most people still don’t think its even possible to run 50 miles at once. Until 2006 I didn’t either. That’s when Liz and I trained for the Philadelphia Marathon together. My friend Lindsay gave me Dean Karnazes’
Book “Ultra Marathon Man”. I read through it very quickly. It was fascinating. But still I thought of “Deano” as some kind of freak. Normal people don’t do these things.

Liz and I were just married and we would talk about staying healthy. Left to my own devices I can find myself in eating frenzies for months at a time until I’m 40-50 pounds over weight. I watch the tube and eat and snack and get fat. I become a couch potato. I eat when I’m stressed which is most of the time so do the math… When I’m like this I don’t care if I’m getting fat. It’s a bit insane now that I’m writing it all out. And its depressing. People in my life will say things like, “Moderation, Dan, everything in moderation…” yeah, right… moderation. I seem to have a tough time with that one for whatever reasons… still can’t really figure it out (and I’ve tried to!).

If I think back to how I approach things I have to say that its usually all or nothing. And there are some benefits to this… Like I will always remember running the first 20 miles of this ultra… My legs were fresh the entire time… going, going, going… I ran next to that enormous lake, through those beautiful autumn trees, up and down those hills, adrenaline going, legs pumping… I felt superhuman… to use an overused word, it was truly awesome.

Back to 2006… Liz was already running a lot and we decided to train for the Newport half marathon together over the summer. We trained together almost every step of the way. We ran just about every training run together. I loved it.

I grew up with four older sisters. Three of the four had run multiple marathons. My sisters were accomplished runners. As I said earlier I was into wrestling in high school and college so there were times when I would work out a lot. And I played sports in grade school as well. On occasion one of my sisters would ask if I wanted to go out for a run. “Sure…” I’ll go. I’m in good shape. I can keep up with her. Well, inevitably they would run up ahead and leave me behind. I don’t think they ever meant anything by it. I just think they were all a lot faster and I was just plain slow. It never sat with me very well though. I didn’t like that feeling of watching my sister running ahead of me. Leaving me behind. Feeling like I wasn’t any good. And I never said a word of this to them so they probably had no idea I felt this way. I was probably being sensitive… I have that tendency, I know. BUT I will say what’s the point of running “with” someone if you’re just going to leave them to finish the run by themselves?... Oh, boo hoo… The point is, this always left a bad taste in my mouth about running.

The ultra allowed me to put some of this childhood/adolescent baggage to bed. An online article I once read said, “If you can’t run fast, run far...” I liked that. So that’s what I did. Ironically running the ultra earned me the name “Sister Dan” from Lisa Shannon, founder of the Run for Congo Women organization, a name I felt honored to be given. And later when I read Lisa’s book, “A Thousand Sisters” I was humbled by it.

As I said, when I first started running with Liz, we did it all together. We ran side by side. If I was having a bad day she’d run slow and vice versa. The Newport half marathon was in September of 2006 and when we finished it we liked it so much that we decided to try for a full marathon. So we went online and found that the Philly marathon was held in November. It gave us about 6 weeks to keep on training and we did it! That run was a whole different story so I won’t go into it but I’ll say that there’s no way I would even be remotely interested in running if it weren’t for my wife. It therefore was more than fitting that she accompany me to finish line of the ultra. It surprised me because we didn’t plan this. We didn’t want to make Steve and Laura babysit while she and I were running. I’m grateful to all of them for this. The fact that I didn’t expect it made it even more memorable.
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Trudging on and on… the last five miles… my consciousness altered. Liz was making every attempt to cater to me… “Do you want me to coach you? Or should I try to talk about something to get your mind off the pain?” She asked. “Don’t coach me. Let’s just talk.” I said. We spoke about moving out of our house and buying a new, bigger house. And how we wanted a yard for the kids to play in. Occasionally I would want to walk but we would try to start jogging again. There was one point when Liz ran a little bit in front of me and I asked her to run by my side. I didn’t want to get those feelings I got as a kid running behind my sisters… Also, I think I was afraid that if I ran too fast I wouldn’t finish. This sounds kind of ridiculous considering I’d just run 45 miles. But that was my fear the whole way… I had to finish. I told everyone in my life about this. I posted and posted and posted about it on Facebook and Twitter. I raised almost $3000 dollars for the women of Congo. I blogged (and still am blogging…). I spoke to Lisa Shannon myself and told her and everyone on that conference call that I was running 50 miles for Congo. She called me a “rock star.” She told everyone on the call to cheer me on… Finishing was the goal. I was going to make it happen and that was final. I didn’t want to jeopardize it in any way.

The last aid station was at around mile 47. There were two older gentlemen there, one manning the station and another walking away from it. I stopped for a second and grabbed some Coke. I thanked the man for working the station. He said, “Well you’re doing all the work today!” We kept on going. As we passed the other gentleman he looked at me smiling and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he saw in the runners that day. I wasn’t sure if it was a “Fantastic job” smile or a “You’re out of your mind” smile. Either way I smiled back. I kept going. Liz began texting people on her phone… We were going slow enough for her to do so while she “ran.” Friends of ours texted words of encouragement. “GO DAN!!!” It lifted my spirits. It was great.

What happened next I will never forget…

On and on we went, slowly, slowly, slowly… Liz was reading off the texts and we kept on making small talk, walking and hobbling, walking and jogging. We hit mile 49 when Liz received a text from our friend Yvonne. She read it off to me, “Thanks to Dan’s run three women in Congo have been sponsored.”

My chest heaved in rapid pulsating motions… before I knew it I was sobbing uncontrollably. Immediately I covered my eyes with my left hand and with my right I grabbed Liz’ shoulder. I hunched over like I had been punched in the belly. For a few moments I lost any ability to stop the sobs. And after another few short seconds I regained my composure. There was only one other time in my life when this happened to me. It was when my mother was in the hospital and I was unclear with what was going on. She was having heart problems and the doctors were unsure of what was causing it. A few short conversations with my sister lead me to believe Mom could be dying. I called my cousin to tell him what was happening and I totally lost control of my feelings. I was alone, on a cell phone in a Dunkin Donuts parking lot.

Liz looked at me perplexed. The burst of emotion was totally unexpected. I don’t talk about Congo to people very much (Liz included) because its so incredibly hard to digest. What happens to these people, these families is beyond horrific. Most of the time when you begin to tell the stories people shudder and close their eyes. They don’t want to hear about it. I get this. I know this. I have lived this. Usually they ask me to stop talking and I comply. My approach has been to run for Congo. Its been more about the action than the talk. I have posted articles about what I’ve learned on my website. I figure the run may intrigue people to investigate it for themselves. People may find themselves saying, “What on earth would make someone run 50 miles?” They may take a look at what I saw when I got into this and it may spark something in them.
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Lisa’s book “A Thousand Sisters” was the real eye opener for me. Lisa left her life in Seattle, Washington to live in Congo amongst the displaced. That is where she met Generose whom I’ve mentioned before. Lisa is Generose’s sponsor. Her story is sadly one of thousands of horrific stories of murdered fathers and children and raped women and girls. It is estimated that between 5.4 and 7 million people have died in Congo in the past decade. Half of who are under the age of 5.

Congo is referred to as the rape capital of the world. Various militia in Congo invade towns, kill the men and rape the women to claim absolute dominance over what they loot and pillage. They kidnap young boys, many who aren’t even teen agers yet, and turn them into soldiers by making them kill at gun point.

In “A Thousand Sisters” Lisa interviews many of the displaced women and children. She hears story after story of the atrocities... Children who’ve witnessed their parents being murdered and then cut into pieces with machetes. Young girls who’ve been raped by 5 and 6 men at a time. Victims who’ve had their eyes cut out and noses cut off. She had women beg her not to leave them because they would just be raped again if they went back to their homes. She visited a fistula ward.

Fistula is normally a rare condition that females get at birth when the vaginal wall is broken so that it connects with the colon. Various militia in Congo inflict this condition on their victims by using tree branches, bottles and guns. It is almost incurable. The victims are unable to have children. There is constant uncontrollable leakage of urine and feces. I remember Lisa describing the distinct smell while going into the ward and how difficult it was to face these women. These rapes are executed in a systematic fashion. They are designed to annihilate the enemy so that there is no chance of any future resistance.

Corruption runs rampant in Congo and the surrounding areas. Reading Lisa’s book I found it hard to keep track of who was attacking who. One of the chapters refers to Congo as the “end of logic”. The Congolese army gets involved and recently there have been accounts of even UN troops participating in the rapes.

I remember reading a book in the late 1990’s called “We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will be Killed with Our Families.” It was one reporter’s account of the genocide in Rwanda. I read half of that book and put it down. I’d had enough. It was another account of these horrific stories. At that point there were 800,000 murders recorded in Rwanda. The conflict was between the Tutsis and Hutu tribes. Since then the conflict has spilled over into Congo and we are still seeing the perpetuation of mass killing but the numbers have escalated into the millions. I put that book down. I stopped thinking about it. Here I am 10 years later doing something.

So what in God’s name is causing this and why doesn’t anyone stop it?..

Congo is very rich in resources (timber, diamonds, gold, coltan and cassiterite {tin ore}). It lacks governing stability. To resolve the problem we must look at its source, not at its result. The result is what I’ve just spelled out. The source???... a bit more disturbing if you can believe that. From what I’ve gathered (and I don’t claim to be an expert on this stuff so please feel free to check what I’ve written – I’m open to being corrected on any of this), an unstable Congo, rich in resources, allows other countries to pillage and profit. On the small scale, I’ve read accounts that local police are given a quota to meet to keep their job, meaning they are required to bring back a certain amount of value from the locals or they will lose their way of life. Rape is a very acceptable means to instill terror and get what is needed. On a grander scale we, the American consumer benefit off of the exploitation of Congo. Coltan for example is used in our cell phones. 80% of the world’s Coltan comes from Congo. It is attained illegally by these militia and eventually sold to major corporations. As I write this I’m not asking you the reader to do anything but to think of this when you use your cell phone. That’s all I will request of you. Just think about it when you use your cell phone.

Still more to come…

“Bonking”

At the beginning, while I was just considering running this thing, months ago I read an article online about what type of people are attracted to running ultra marathons. It said people in their 40’s who are ex-athletes who’s athletic careers never went as far as they wanted it to seem to gravitate towards these things. And the men were usually bigger than average for runners (Like over 6 feet tall and weighing more than 200lbs). When I read this I thought… “yup, that’s me.” Weird. I wrestled back at Syracuse University as a walk-on and had all of these dreams of making it to the NCAA tournament but that never happened. I ended up “walking off” the team in my sophomore year. This always bothered me. Even up until very recently and that was over 20 years ago.

This article was the first time I’d ever heard the term “bonk”. The writer said if you bonk at mile 20 you’re screwed but if you bonk at mile 30 you can finish. I never got an actual definition of what “bonking” is but I’ve lived it many times so I’m pretty familiar with what happens.

Basically you lose all fluidity. Your body’s exhausted and your mind becomes unwilling to push hard. So you start walking. But that allows all the lactic acid to freely build up in your legs which tightens them up making everything just that much slower. The best strategy to avoid this is to run through it which means digging in and running through pain. That’s what I’ve heard. But I know what keeps me from running through it. FEAR. In my life I’ve run 26 miles or more only a handful of times. The experience is still relatively new to me. So, for example when I dehydrated last May, I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know why I became a human “coffee maker” in the port-a-potty. And that’s freakin’ scary! You start thinking something’s wrong internally… Is it my organs?? What’s going on with me?!?! Then you start saying, “Well running a race isn’t worth hurting yourself or going to the hospital,” which is completely sensible. So you start to take it easy and then you “BONK.”

From the mile 38 aid station to mile 40 some more runners caught up to me. “Lauren” (who’s name I’m still not sure of) from the “40 club” was now on pace with me. She was very nice. She wore a bandana on her head one of those spandex-type running tank tops made for women. She was running and walking, running and walking. I went back to my slow jog. We hit the top of the hill and there was another aid station. I think this was a makeshift station… I don’t know. It came up quick between mile 38 and mile 40. It seemed too close to the last one. I wasn’t complaining… more fluids.

Lauren’s support was either her husband or boyfriend. He was driving a station wagon. I told her I thought I was a little dehydrated. We started talking about the color of pee when you get dehydrated… funny what you can talk about to a complete stranger when you’re running 50 miles together… She offered me some Gatorade from her car next time he pulled up and I said no thanks because I was carrying enough water on my back. I avoided all of the non-aid station stops. I felt like I might get too comfortable with the stopping. I didn’t want to turn the last 10 miles into a never ending stop/start, walk /jog, stop/start.

I was definitely slowing down during the 30 to 40 mile stretch but for this run you could say I “bonked” somewhere around mile 40… The last 10 miles had markers which was helpful and I remember very clearly stepping over the mile 40 mark. It was the first time I’d ever run 40 miles!!! That right there was an achievement! I was jogging and I started walking so that I could get my phone out to call Liz. I dialed and Steve picked up.

“Hey” he said. I was surprised to hear his voice. He was finished! Man… He killed it! I didn’t get into any kind of discussion with him. I just told him that I was on mile 40 and slowing down and it could take me a couple more hours. That was about the extent of the conversation. My mind was getting tired… I knew that by how little I wanted to talk. I wasn’t irritated with Steve but I knew I could very easily get irritable. Its what happens when you’re mind gets tired. You can’t focus so any little thing can set you off. At least that’s what happens to me. I remember back in 2006 when Liz and I trained for the Philly marathon together I’d have these Jeckyl and Hyde moments. On one 18 mile run I was feeling really bad and she started talking about home finances to get my mind off it. As she spoke I thought, “Finances?!?! You want to talk about finances!?!?” Part of my mind was convinced she was intentionally messing with me… Like “I’m in all this pain right now and this is when we’re going to work out our future financial plan?”… I got really angry. I say “part of my mind” because there was a rational side that knew how ridiculous I was being… The impulse is very close to wanting to act out like a 3 year old having a tantrum. I didn’t snap at her or anything then. I know better than that… I just stopped running and started walking. I “bonked”.

For the final 10 miles the hills became less severe though Lauren warned that they weren’t as flat as everyone kept saying because she had a chance to do a test run on the final 15 miles earlier in the year. It was true. There would be long stretches of incline and declines ahead.

Lauren kept catching up to me and then running behind bushes to pee. I’d move on and then she’d catch me again. After a while I jumped behind some bushes to go. Nothing happened. When I came out Lauren and another man were jogging along together. Later he stopped by a mailbox to pee. It looked as if he was having the same difficulty I was… I think this was dehydration taking the form of some crazy, random running/walking/peeing dance with us. When you get dehydrated, it feels like you have to go but nothing (or very little) comes out. It’s unpleasant. None of us were really talking at this point and none of us cared about the other stopping to pee in broad daylight. Lauren was really stopping a lot though. It seemed like every time there was a bush she’d run behind it. I felt bad for her. I finally asked if she was ok and that said that it had to be annoying for her. If it was I don’t think my inquiring helped any. She said, “I’m ok.” And kept going. I may have annoyed her. I probably would have been annoyed by that. I just kept quiet from then on. We were all hurting. That was obvious.

A funny thing happens when you approach the end of a long run and you’re in the beginning stages of exhaustion. The last few miles can become torture. For me its always been the final 2 miles whenever I’ve fallen apart. Its happened to me on 18 mile runs and its happened to me on 6 mile runs. It doesn’t matter how far. Its always the last 2 miles. That tells me that even though it hurts, the mind starts making things worse and actually working against you. My theory on this is that this is some kind of survival reflex that your mind instigates in your body to get you to stop. I think that even though there is pain and you feel it, your mind actually exaggerates the pain. That’s why the fast runners can “run through the pain” as they say. There’s actually nothing wrong. You’re definitely tired and aching a bit. There’s soreness if you stop but nothing is really WRONG. Then the brain hits this point where it says, “Ok pal, enough is enough.” And it starts pouring all the pain and angst on. If you can discipline your mind enough you can actually beat the pain and feel better. I’ve done this. Steve actually helped me learn this on one of our training runs…
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…It was a back-to-back-long-run weekend in the middle of the summer. I was supposed to run 22 miles on Saturday and then another 17 on Sunday. I fell apart on the Saturday run and was due to run the 17 miler with Steve the next day. I told him I was concerned that it was going to be a horrible run and that we should really take it slow. According to the training schedule we were supposed to pick up the pace on the final hour of running. This really had me worried. Especially because I’d had such a poor run the day before. I ended up walking the final 2 miles on that one.

When Steve and I set out the next day on the 17 mile run we broke it up into 3 hours We took the first 2 hours very slowly. This was by my request. It was raining buckets upon buckets of water when we started. Definitely the worst rainstorm I ever ran in. We hit the last hour of running somewhere around mile 11.

Steve worked out hard. I don’t think he ever ran as slow as he did while running with me. He told me once about the “VO2 max” (I think that’s what its called) approach to his work outs. From what I gather this is a mode of training that entails constant running to the point that you are out of breath and getting your body accustomed to maintaining that level. It gets you faster and stronger. I want to look into this further as it seemed to be really effective for Steve. My training approach was more traditional. It involved doing lots of long “taking it easy” kinds of runs. Everything I’ve ever heard or read about marathon training says that increasing speed and distance at the same time during your training is a recipe for injury. Steve is a prime example. Last year was the first he’d ever trained for a marathon and when he researched all of the training programs he skipped any beginner schedules and went straight to the intermediate ones. Once he started he said that he would push himself to run harder through the intermediate schedules. He basically ignored all the warnings and as a result he injured himself. He got a stress fracture on his leg and ended up on crutches. That’s right, he cracked a bone just by running! I never knew that was even possible. That’s why I dubbed him Steve “the Maniac” Millard. He’s an ex-marine and he’s one of the quietest guys I ever met but I learned that when I ran with him he wouldn’t stop talking. We’d go out on 30 mile runs and he’d tell me all about his job or the Marine Corps and we’d talk about life and Liz and Laura and our kids. We’d go on and on talking for 3 and 4 hour stretches. Then we’d stop running and he was back to being quiet. Steve’s a good man.

I just kept up with him. As it turned out I ran a sub 9 minute mile on mile 16. It was mile 38 on the weekend. Steve said, “that was an 8 minute 45 second mile!” I couldn’t believe it. “See? You can do it!” he said.

I think a lot of “bonking” is mental. BUT I’ll add that its not ALL mental. The pain is REAL as well. And when you hit the saturation point of lactic acid in your legs it feels like there’s drying cement slowly oozing through your veins turning your legs into two stiff pillars. Eventually you find yourself just hobbling along. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

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Mile 40 also marked the end of the beautifully spectacular lake and mountain scenery. We were now hitting long stretches of road through farm land which has its own kind of appeal. It reminded me of going for runs down in Middletown, Delaware when I’d spend weekends at my cousin’s house back in high school. Just road, fields and more road. Lauren and I kept on. We lost the guy who was in our peeing dance. I don’t remember if he went ahead or fell behind… and Sarah caught up to us. This was the first I was running side by side with her since mile 6 or so. The “40 club” was reunited! We chatted a bit. But we were all tired. The conversation wasn’t strained but it wasn’t bubbly either. My thoughts were on finishing this run. I’m sure their’s were as well. Approaching was the mile 42.5 aid station.

It didn’t matter that I had “bonked” or that I was hobbling along… My spirits were high. Later, after the race I saw photos of me. People commented that I looked like I was happy and that I didn’t look tired at all. It immediately makes me think of the smile patrolman. I was happy. I was in pain but I was happy… smiling in the face of adversity… there’s no doubt in my mind that it makes the unbearable more bearable.

…One more theoretical note before I go into the final seven miles... I find it peculiar in a way that we always separate the physical and mental aspects of our existence. For instance a smile that makes pain more bearable or the fear of pain actually creating the sensation of pain… I talk about these things as if they are discoveries. But they aren’t. Why do you hug a child who skins their knee? Does a hug have any medical value to a skinned knee?.. I doubt it but being a dad, I know if my kid hurts themselves I’ll pick them up and hug them. Its an instinctual reaction. So what is the value to this? Emotions are physical. A hug helps the baby find their own comfort. We know this. If a parent left their hurt 3 year old to cry and cry and cry we might question the person’s ability to parent. I may think, “Does this person have any love inside them?” And we’d feel sorry for the child. Also, if you really put yourself into an empathetic state of mind you may even find yourself crying with the child. How cruel a world we live in that allows children to suffer. We are all suffering children. We all lose parents and friends. We all have broken hearts… if we pay attention we all know this.

While this seems a bit like a tangent I’m getting at the basic principle on which I found the motivation and drive to train for this run and to accomplish it. Put simply, it was all about taking action which is, by definition, physical. Herein lies the tie-in to Congo. But more on that later…

Mile 38 aid station

As I said, these middle miles are a little foggy in my memory. I did the first 32 miles in 6 hours and 15 minutes which means it took me 4 hours and 45 minutes to run the last 18 miles. A note to anyone who is not a marathon runner… this is SLOW. I don’t really recall an aid station between mile 32 and mile 38 if there was one. What I do remember is descending the very steep hill that lead to the dock at the mile 38 station. It was the first time I set eyes on the lake since mile 24 or so. And I also knew that approaching this station meant I only had another 12 miles to go. For the first time in the race I knew I was going to finish…
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…I thought of Stanley again. I would run into him outside on Wayne Street in Jersey City. We used to talk for long periods of time. There were times when he saw me approaching and he’d just smile. He wouldn’t say hello. He’d just smile. It was like he was truly and sincerely happy to see me. I could see it all on his face. Stan was a published poet who had written a book of poems while he did time at Rikers Island in the sixties.

We were unlikely friends as he was about 20 years older than me and we had completely different backgrounds. When we met I was a twenty six year old white kid (still a kid in many ways) from the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware who was trying to be an artist but ended up unemployed and distressed. I graduated from Syracuse University and attended Archmere Academy for high school. Both schools were attended by Vice President Joe Biden. There was nothing about my upbringing that would cause anyone to think I struggled in any way. But in many ways and for whatever reasons, as I transitioned from a teenager to a young man I did struggle.

Stan’s life was more directly about struggle. He was a black man who grew up in the Brooklyn. He’d spent significant portions of his youth in foster care and in jail. He made money doing custodial work for a couple of the buildings in my neighborhood in Jersey City. He could have very strong mood swings and there were times when he did not want to be around anyone.

But when he was happy his smile went from ear to ear and he beamed. It was like pure joy was emanating from him. It would really light up my world. It was unique. I just don’t get that from many people… Maybe now from my kids… yes, that’s what made it so great. It was the kind of joy a kid expresses. Stan liked my sense of humor. When I would joke with him he’d laugh in hysterics, bending over and coughing from laughing so hard (he smoked a lot as well). It would make you laugh just standing next to him.

Looking back on my life, I’d say that as I grew older I tended to trust people less and less. I became more cynical. While Stan could be very cynical himself, there was something very pure and innocent about him. So when he complimented me I believed him. I met him at a very confused time in my life. I used to vent to him about how uncertain I was about everything. I was trying to be an artist and a musician. He would just say, “Look at your life, Dan. Look at the things you’ve done. Its beautiful…” When he said this I believed him. This is why Stan meant so much to me. He had an impact on me. I ended up leaving Jersey City, getting married, buying a house, having kids and all but losing contact with Stan. I spoke to him a few times in the past couple of years but since my daughter was born we spoke less and less. His health was failing and I felt like there was nothing I could do for him. Mutual friends would tell me there was, in fact, nothing I could do. The last I heard from him he left a message on my phone saying he’d heard I’d had a son. I tried calling him a number of times in the past year but I don’t know if he ever got my messages. Then I got the call that he was in a coma and dying in the hospital. It hit me like a ton of bricks. If you knew Stanley you knew he was far from perfect. And if you knew him well you loved him. He knew pain and he knew joy… He was one of the most “human” human beings I ever knew.
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…I started running down this hill and my legs felt strong again. A voice in my head went off… “12 more miles to go! I’m going to finish this!!!” All of a sudden I felt elation. This realization… I’m going to do this! I’m making this happen! I felt intense joy welling up inside me. My eyes began to tear up… again, the emotions were coming on. I shook that off… crazy stuff…

My pace quickened down the hill and I turned right and then made a quick left to the mile 38 aid station at a dock on the lake. There was a big, tall guy running away from the station heading up the 38 mile monster hill. I yelled over to him, “Looking good!” He smiled. The station was 0.2 miles in from the road we were running on. It stood at the dock which dead ended. Steve complained about this later because the course we ran was in fact about 50.3 miles and he thought the 38 mile aid station could have been on the road to cut it closer to 50 miles. I didn’t really care about this. When I arrived I looked at the man at the station table. “I’m going to finish this!” I said like a kid saying, “Look what I can do Daddy!” He said, “Yes you are going to finish it.” I drank some fluids and made my way to the port-a-potty. I looked back to see more runners approaching the station.

It was the only station on the course with a port-a-potty. This made me feel bad for the women. When you’re a man with lots of woods around, the world is your toilet!... But it’s a little tougher for the ladies.

Not to be too detailed here but when I went to the bathroom I saw that my urine was brownish. This is a sign of dehydration. I was still urinating so I wasn’t fully dehydrated but I figured that was a factor in what was slowing me down. It really floored me considering I was drinking from my Camelbak throughout the entire run. I polished off over 100 oz at this point on top of all of the drinks at the aid stations. I’m going to have to figure out what the right ratio of water to running time is. I still don’t know for sure. I thought having a hydration system on my back would eliminate any chance of dehydrating but I guess not.

It wasn’t as bad as the New Jersey Marathon was for me back in early May. During that run I felt terrific until about mile 8. Then, by mile 10 I was really hitting a serious dehydration point. When it gets bad like that your urine looks like coffee dripping from a coffee maker. That whole run was a nightmare. I spent the winter training for it in 12 degree weather and snow and then race day turned out to be the hottest day of the Spring. It hit 90 degrees. I was considering quitting at mile 13. On several occasions I ran by people being pulled off in stretchers. During these more major marathons, pacers are hired to help people hit a certain time. So for example if you wanted to run a 4 hour marathon, you would just find the pacer that was holding the 4 hour flag and follow that person. During that race, most of the pacers dropped out. They couldn’t keep their pace with the heat. It was awful. That’s when I learned my lesson on the importance of drinking fluids while you run. Hydration and blood sugar level can make an enormous difference in the outcome of a run.

…back to the ultra…

I started leaving the aid station when one of the women from the “40 club” approached. I said “Hey!” She yelled back, “Hey! Sarah’s coming up behind me!” I said, “Keep going! We’re getting there!” I ran down the road a bit and a car with an older gentleman driving it passed me, stopped and backed up to talk to me. “Hey what race is this?” he asked. I said, “It’s the Can Lake 50 mile marathon. We’re running a lap around the lake.” He looked a bit puzzled but smiled and replied, “Up and down these hills??? Wow! Good luck!” he then drove off. Up ahead coming into the road that the aid station was on came Sarah. “Hey!” I yelled because I didn’t know her name at this point, “Looking good!” I still can’t get over that her longest run to date was a half marathon. She’s a vegetarian. I’m pretty sure there’s a connection. Vegetarians just tend to lead more diet conscious, healthy lives.

I left the 38 mile aid station road, turning left and then quickly advancing on a very steep incline that twisted upward and right. This was the beginning of the monster climb at mile 38. I ran it. I was feeling good. I ran up and up and up for about a mile and then I started to think I might be blowing all of my energy so I decided to throw some walking into the mix. No one in front of me. I looked back and there was no one behind me. I felt good on this hill which was invigorating. I definitely got a second wind coming down that last hill before the station. On and on I went. The road wound up through the trees that were just starting to change for autumn. Yellows, reds, oranges and greens the whole way up. The air was clear. And the sky was blue. The day was perfect.

Now that I was starting to take on the run/walk strategy, I focused on walking quickly when I did so. I didn’t want to be doing this for 3 days. One of the fundamental principals in ultra marathon running that I learned while training is to keep moving if you can. Always keep yourself in constant motion no matter how much you begin to tire or slow down. I really kept this in my mind. I knew I was going to finish. Now I wanted to finish before the 12 hour mark. Another thing I read said that if you wanted to get an idea of what your first ultra time might be, you should take your fastest marathon time, double it, and add 2 hours. My fastest marathon was 5 hours, 36 minutes (below average). According to this theory I would be finishing in 13 hours and 12 minutes. Screw that theory!! The cut off for this race was 12 hours. If you didn’t finish within 12 hours you didn’t get an official time. I wasn’t going to go all this way only to be counted as an “unofficial time” whatever that meant. I wanted to make that cut off. Beyond finishing that was my goal.

more to come...

The race... tiring and remembering

I stood there while he filled up my pack and looked back to see about 4 or 5 runners coming in to the station. I checked out the food table and drank some water and Heed. I looked over the food. There were M&Ms and Oreo cookies… didn’t have the stomach for that stuff. I took another small swig of Coke. The running/walking woman came up and said, “what should I drink here?” I said the Heed was good and that I wasn’t into all the candy and stuff but I DID like the Coke. “But,” I said, “I really like Coke.” She then said, “I do too.” But she didn’t take any. She had a stern look on her face as she checked out the table. I think she just grabbed some water. I was looking up the gradual incline that we were all about to climb. It turned up and went behind some trees to the right. Straight ahead was the mountain. Mile 27… I’m starting to feel it. The other runners all started moving ahead and I put my Camelbak on and headed up. I asked the guy at the station, “This is mile 27, right?” He said, “No its mile 26.” He was wrong and I knew it. So why did I ask him?... I was starting to get into my own head. I always do this when I run marathons. It makes Liz cringe. She says I psyche myself out. I think this is true. But I was catching myself doing it so when it happened I would just move on… Its supposed to hurt. Its supposed to get unpleasant. That’s what they all say about these runs and that’s exactly what was beginning for me…

Up, up, up we all climbed. The long incline would last through mile 33 and a half or so. It went slowly with lots of rolling hills. From behind me the guy from Connecticut who dreamed he ran forever came up. “Hey!” he said. “How you doing?” I asked. He seemed to be doing very well. I wanted to confirm that that station was mile 27 and he said yes but he wasn’t tracking the miles. He was paying attention to hours and what he needed to do at each point in time. Had we been eating lunch or something I may have asked him to expound on this but I wasn’t really in the place to hear someone else’s strategy while I was beginning to tire. This much was correct… I needed to get the mile count out of my head. He moved on ahead. And I kept going at my own pace.

The 5 runners that were behind me were now all in front of me. They were all running and walking and running and walking up the hills. I just kept my slow jog going. I didn’t let the fact that people were passing me bother me too much. There was 23 miles to go and I wasn’t going to let my ego ruin the second half of the run. Let them go. I ended up catching the last guy in the pack and passing him. He looked tired. A woman driving a station wagon pulled over and asked if we wanted Gatorade or anything. She was probably supporting one of the other runners. I said thanks but declined. I just left the aid station a half mile ago so I didn’t want to keep stopping. Especially if my “fatigue thoughts” were starting to work on me… Keep going… The guy behind me stopped and took a drink. That was the last I saw of him.

I kept my eyes on the runners ahead of me for this portion of the run. I kept them in my sight for about 4 miles or so before they eventually vanished behind the trees and hills up ahead. In front of me was the side of this big hill to the left that went up and up and nothing but farmland sloping down to the right where the trees started clearing out. I passed the little pond that Emily spotted in the car the day before when Steve and I toured the course with her. It probably was about 50 yards in diameter. She woke up from her nap and immediately said, “Look! A lake!” which made Steve and I chuckle. I thought of her singing to the Lightning McQueen CD. I then passed a cattle farm. There must have been about 30 cows grazing.

Up ahead the mile 32 aid station loomed. There was what looked like a small church behind a bunch of trees. After a while I made it to the station… Now according to my mental strategy, the first part of my run was over and it was a success. This had me in great spirits. Up until this point in time the longest distance that I had ever gone was 32 miles. My thought was to take a break if I needed to at mile 32 and maybe eat a “meal” like a half-sandwich or something. My stomach wasn’t up for that. I began to mentally prepare myself for the next 18 miles… or, for me, the unknown. Liz and Laura were supposed to meet me at this station but I saw no sign of them. I grabbed some Heed and water and started walking past the station. I remembered that there was a long steep hill after this that ran on for about a mile and a half. I was now feeling fatigue from the run but I still felt pretty good overall. After a few steps I heard “DAN!” from up ahead. It was Laura I think. I looked up and saw her jumping off the street and running up a short hill on the side of the road. There were some trees in the way so I didn’t see the Forerunner parked in the church parking lot.

I kept walking up the road past the lot where the truck was. Emily and Will were both running around the parking lot and Liz and Laura were running after them. I was so happy to see them and I was also worried about the kids being in the car all around this lake. It wasn’t the most ideal weekend for a 1 year old and a 3 year old. I am very grateful for my wife and kids and for “Aunt” Laura. I felt a little sad I wasn’t with them today.

They had all the goodies that I had packed… Gatorade, chocolate milk, Snickers bars, bananas, oranges… no Snickers bars. I couldn’t understand how some of the runners really like to eat that stuff during the later miles. I drank some Gatorade, ate a banana and then eyeballed the chocolate milk (Nestle Quik in the yellow bottle with the brown bunny on the label). I took a gulp and then downed the entire bottle in about 3 to 4 seconds. I don’t know why chocolate milk is so good after a run but it really is. Steve put us on to this. Its good AFTER but I wasn’t sure about DURING a run. After the last swallow I thought, “I don’t know if that was such a good idea.” Oh well.

I sat on the back of the truck for a couple of minutes and talked to the girls for a bit. They were switching modes between being my support team and managing the kids. They had a rough time navigating the route which was confusing by car and they missed Steve who was presently tearing the course up. This visit wasn’t very relaxing as I felt responsible for having to tend to my kids. I knew they had the kids covered. I just felt like I should be helping. But I had to move on... I got up and walked back out to the street. I was worried about the chocolate milk in my stomach… I hoped it wasn’t going to make me sick. I decided to walk a bit to let it digest. I looked at my watch. It was 6 hours and 15 minutes since the start. I felt that if I made 30 miles in 6 hours and was still feeling ok I’d be in good shape. This was done. I was optimistic. I reset my watch to time the last 18 miles.

The girls started getting the kids into the car and I headed off walking up the long hill with no trees on either side. There was a fruit stand in about a half mile on the left and I saw a police car stopped with the lights flashing. There was a car pulled over on the left side of the road. I wondered what this was all about for a minute but I didn’t really care much after that. I just kept walking, waiting for the right feeling to come back so that I could get back to running. My stomach was a bit off and I didn’t want to make it worse. Again I was maintaining my conservative approach.

I walked past the fruit stand and then the police car. There was some young people in the pulled-over car and then, further up the road another car was stopped. As I kept going a guy with John Lennon circular sunglasses got out of the car on top of the hill and started walking down towards the cop car. He looked like a guy from one of the aid stations. I said “hey” and kept on. He was preoccupied with the scene in front of him and I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

I took the next left and the incline continued for another quarter mile or so. The girls drove up behind me in the truck. They stopped and asked how I was. I said I was taking a little walking break and they said I was doing great and to keep going. They looked back at the kids and started chanting “Go Daddy go! Go Daddy go!” They drove off in search of Steve. I looked at my watch and realized I had walked for about 20 minutes. I needed to start running again. Finally I hit the top of the hill and started to run. I got a small burst of energy and was back into a stride. The downhill helped get me going and I started to feel better.

Running “Quiet”

This part of the run is foggy in my memory for some reason. Maybe because it was the most uncertain part of the entire run. I was worried about how I felt. I didn’t feel horrible but I didn’t feel good anymore. I wanted to finish and I was focused on anything that could have potentially prevented that. I was through two thirds of the way but there was still a long way to run.

I was at my most doubtful here but I kept going. I started to think of everything that made me decide to do this. I thought of how long I had trained… 41 weeks total. And I thought of Congo. The torture and rape of children and young females that have barely seen womanhood… all of the awful things. How there are people with such little hope. In Lisa Shannon’s book “A Thousand Sisters” Congo is said to have both the worst and the best of humanity. While there is so much tragedy, there is great hope and love as well. People with nothing take in lost and orphaned children off the dirt roads and out of the woods to try to give them a chance. I have so much. How much do I appreciate what I have? If you look at my family and my possessions you’d see that I am a king… I should run as a king…

I kept going. I thought of my friend Stan and was sad. Stan died in March and through my training I grieved him. I’d spent hours upon hours with myself running over the past 10 months. It gave me a lot of time to think about him… how we weren’t in contact very much at the end of his life. In all of this I felt every emotion I could feel. And I found that the emotions kind of just happened when I ran. Unlike when I was in conversations or even by myself, there was something about the activity of running that evoked more pure emotions… maybe it’s the rhythm that leads into various states of exhaustion. Before you know it you’re not thinking the way you normally think. I began training in December so when Stan died I had already been doing longer runs. I remember runs when I would suddenly realize that tears were streaming down my cheeks. I would quietly run. It was usually early in the morning. I was alone. Sometimes I’d miss him so much. He really had a huge impact on my life. He was far from perfect but I knew he loved me and was proud of me and I loved that. Training for the ultra allowed me to remember Stan in a very special way. I don’t think I would have grieved him as I did had I not been out on my own in so much quiet for such long periods of time. My every day life would have otherwise distracted me from this.

I then thought of Claude and Lucien. As I was fund raising for Congo I set my fund raising goal at $5000. I figured that this worked out to $100 per mile and that people could “purchase” miles. When the time came to run I made a list of the donators as it coincided with the mile that they purchased. I thought that if I didn’t reach my goal (which I didn’t – to date I had raised almost $3000), the remainder of my run would be a quiet tribute to Claude and Lucien. All except for mile 50. At mile 50 I promised myself to remember Stanley.

The first really horrific story that I read from Congo was about a family that was attacked by a militia. There were five children in this family, a mother named Generose and father named Claude. One night a militia broke into their home, murdered Claude and raped Generose in front of their children. When Generose screamed out they cut her leg off with a machete. The militia then cooked her leg on the fire and forced the children to eat it. The oldest child, Lucien, a 12 year old boy, said that they could kill him but he would not eat his mother’s leg. They shot him dead. That was Generose’s last memory before she woke up in the hospital days later.

I think of this boy, Lucien and I don’t exactly know how to describe my reaction to his story… I have many different thoughts and feelings about it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. For whatever reasons the things that didn’t used to affect me affect me now… So I quietly ran for Congo and while I did it I thought of Lucien and his father, Claude.

The race (continued)

I kept going, passing a couple of people who looked like they were having some kind of garage sale which was very peculiar up here on this long winding mountain road. I kept on and began a very long decline… Down and down and down for 2 miles to the aid station at mile 17. I stopped here for the first time for about 30 seconds and grabbed a salted potato and some pretzels. I took a swig of some Heed drink that they had. Never had that stuff before but when I drank it, it felt like it was good to drink. The guy at the aid station said, “You look terrible!” I looked at him and said, “What?!” And he laughed and responded, “We keep telling everyone how great they look. I wanted to try telling someone that they looked terrible.” I then said, “Why don’t you try picking on one of those young guys. I’m 40!” He said, “If you’re 40, you ARE a young guy in this race!” I smiled and moved on. Down and down and down. I had my headphones on and was listening to my old college mix of music with lots of Police and Peter Gabriel songs (showing my age, I know). I looked at my right side and a short woman appeared. Whoah! Did NOT see her coming! I took the headphones off. We said hello. She didn’t seem intent on starting a conversation but I continued anyway. She then started talking.

Her name was Claudia and she lives in New York (actually works 2 blocks from me). She’s originally from Argentina. I told her about my cousins down there. We kept talking and she told me about her training. Everyone I spoke to seemed to have trained less than me… very strange considering a lot of them ended up passing me… uh well. I wasn’t in this to win or to break any records. I wanted to finish under 12 hours. And one of the things that really hit home after all of this was that I ended up doing exactly what I planned to do... in other words, had I planned on going harder, I believe I could have and would have. But I will get to that later. The important thing to me at this point was to accomplish my goal.

Claudia told me that she wanted to finish the run in 10 hours. She said that she had run her last marathon without really training appropriately. I just don’t understand people like this… but I’ve seen them with my own eyes. To run a marathon without training just seems like utter torture to me but a lot of people seem to do it and finish with respectable times. She seemed like one of those women who are both very sweet and very tough. We ran down the long hill quickly. And we kept on with each other from about mile 20 to the mile 22 aid station. She had a real determined intensity to her. Her eyes were on the road and she moved on and on. She had one of those Garmin-type watches that kept track of miles. I asked her about 3 times what mile we were on before I realized that I was too preoccupied with that this early in the run. I relaxed myself with this. I was beginning to feel a trace of fatigue and I didn’t want to start counting miles at mile 21. So I pushed the mile count out of my head.

At mile 22 aid station I stopped for a couple of minutes to call Liz. I took off my Camelbak to get my phone out. There was a lawn chair with one of those beer holder pouches in the arm. The people at the station brought chairs to sit down. I asked if I could take a seat for a second. “Sure, sure, go ahead!” I have to say the aid station people were fantastic… really, really great… very attentive and helpful. I sat down for about a minute while I opened up the pack to get the phone… Got it, back on my feet, dialed Liz… “Where are you?” she asked. “Mile 22” I said, “Oh wow!” she said, “You’re doing awesome!” I think she was relieved that I made it there in just over 4 hours. Knowing her she was preparing herself for the worst-case scenario. And with her imagination it probably went something like me falling off a cliff somewhere and her having to lead a search team in one of those coast guard-like helicopters with the two kids… “Thanks,” I said, “I think I’m starting to slow a little though.”

I was starting to slow down but not much at all. I still felt very strong. I was just hyper aware of how I felt and I was trying very hard to conserve energy as much as possible while still keeping a strong pace moving forward. Liz wasn’t expecting me to be going this fast so she sounded like she was scrambling a bit to see what aid station she could meet me at. We had planned on meeting up at the mile 27 marker which didn’t seem feasible at this point. So they were now going to aim for the mile 32 marker. This gave me confidence. I was exceeding expectations. I was doing well. Liz asked about the aid station. I said it was great. I was eating pretzels and salted potatoes. I told her, “I’m eating potatoes right now. Its like Thanksgiving dinner!” The folks at the aid station chuckled. Good ole’ long distance runner cornball humor. Gotta love it…

Back to the road. It began easing away from the fishing houses along the lakeside into the “middle of nowhere” part of the run. The route wound around the back of the lakeside mountains for about the next 16 miles or so… lots of trees, farm land and long stretches of road. I kept on trucking, listening to music and soaking up the scenery. After a bit another woman crept up behind me. I had exchanged a few words with her back at around mile 8 or so and went on ahead. She was a run/walker. She would run faster than me, then start walking, I would pass her, then she would run and creep up and pass me again. I think some people really like this type of running. Its like a tag team approach… not me. It drives me nuts. Nothing against this woman… we all had different approaches coming into the run. I just like to run it for as long as I can and then walk if I need it. That was my approach and I found it very effective. Later on at about mile 28 she commented that I was like the Energizer bunny… just kept going and going while others would walk and then run. There was truth to this. And its also why I didn’t really care if people passed me or not. I was in this to finish. Up until this point I had absolutely no idea what running 50 miles would feel like so I was as conservative about it as I could be.

We did the run/walk dance for about 4 or 5 turns and I finally thought, “I have to put an end to this.” So on her next run past me I sped up and stuck with her until she walked. Then I past her so that I would be far enough ahead that she would have to double-time her pace to reach me again. As I past her I saw the 25 mile marker. “We’re halfway!” I exclaimed. “Just turnaround now!” she replied.

I kept on at a pretty good pace until the mile 27 aid station. The station was at the foot of a long gradual incline that ran up the side of one of the big lake hills. I looked behind me. There was a whole group of runners following me. My pace was beginning to slow. I still felt pretty good though.

At the station I asked if they could refill my Camelbak. I noticed a woman holding a gallon of water. Then one of the men grabbed it from her, unhooked my pack, took it off me and started filling it up. “You don’t have to do all that.” I said. Too late. He was already doing it. That was really great. The aid station people were excellent the whole way through.

still more coming...

The race...

Wake up:

I got out of bed and felt more calm than I did the night prior. “More calm” is the appropriate phrase. Not calm exactly. But I will say that I also felt confidence. I kept thinking of those stories about very well-trained soldiers being excited to go into battle and face death.

I knew I would give this a good run. I kept telling myself, “You’ve run over 1500 miles to train for this! You’re going to do it!” I also kept thinking of all of the runs I did that were over 10 miles and 15 miles. I did 45 runs that were over 10 miles since December. This was merely 5 more of those. I began to feel excitement. I WAS prepared and I knew it… The only question in my mind was whether it was going to be a good run or an ugly one. I read in an article that in a 50 mile run if you “bonk” at mile 30 you can still finish but if you “bonk” at mile 20 you won’t.

My solid goal was to keep running through mile 30 without walking. I felt that if I did this and felt crappy, I could still muster up the confidence to finish.

I started getting my things ready and got dressed. This took about 30 seconds because I had already triple-checked everything the night before. And let’s face it, there’s just not a lot to bring along when you run. Then I left my room and went upstairs to the kitchen. The place had a semi-bi-level feel with the bedrooms downstairs and the living room/kitchen area upstairs with a terrace that overlooked the lake. Its too bad I was so jacked up on adrenaline all weekend or I would have really liked to relax and enjoy the surroundings.

Steve came upstairs within about 2 minutes and immediately made coffee. We ate some oatmeal and I ate a banana and were ready to go. Next up the stairs was Laura. She would drive us to the starting line. Liz slept in with the kids. Laura took a couple of photos of us and next thing we were off in the GTI listening to Metallica (Steve’s request – fine with me).

We pulled up to the community college. Steve and Laura knew exactly where to go. We parked and the parking lot was sprinkled with a small and eccentric sub-culture of folks known to only a limited portion of the general population as “ultra-marathon runners”. From old guys with scraggly beards to middle-aged women whose bodies looked more like they’d spent past months eating boxes of cookies instead of running 18 and 30 milers on the weekends. These were the elite athletes I was to participate with… Perfect… I loved it!

There was food and stuff to stock up on… didn’t need any. Had to pee… went pee… met up with Laura outside… had to pee… went pee… why nerves make me pee I’ll never know the connection. Then we went to the starting line. Unlike any marathon or 5k I’ve been in… It was dark still and it felt like we were some group of old acquaintances waiting for a yellow school bus to go on some 30th year high school reunion ski trip.

“5 minutes to start!” yelled the race organizer. I think that was Tom… No bull horn or microphone needed. He then made some comments about having to run through some mud at the beginning of the race and to take it easy with each other saying something to the effect of “No one’s going to win this in the first two tenths of a mile…”

Laura then took a couple more pictures at the start. Steve and I turned around and said goodbye (he was going out much faster than me)… see you at the finish, brother! And we waited for the “gun” which was Tom saying “go”…

“GO!”

The Race:

Off we went, all 100 or so of us onto the campus of the college, through grass, next to fences, and stomping in muddy areas from rain the week before. The energy was high with the group. I could sense a heightened intensity from everyone. And you could hear soft murmurings of light conversations cropping up between people who don’t really know each other but have at least one very unusual thing in common… that they’re making the attempt to run 50 miles today.

I hit the mile one marker at nine minutes, forty five seconds… way too fast. I needed to calm down. So I kept an eye on my watch for the first 5 mile markers. I felt that a ten and a half to eleven minute per mile pace would keep me strong through the first 30 miles or so. After that it would be unexplored territory for me.
I hit mile two at around 20 minutes… better but I still need to slow down. Mile 3 was about 31 minutes. Perfect. Keep this pace.

I just ran right by the first two aid stations. Everyone was stopping for drinks and food already. I had my camelback filled with 100 oz of water and my “Chomps” electrolyte cubes that I began popping after mile 5. I was feeling great. The tapering down of the training runs for the previous 3 weeks worked the way it was supposed to. My legs felt like two pistons pumping on and on with no sign of letting up. I blasted through the first 13 miles feeling like I was floating on air. My confidence began to build… I’m going to do this!

Along the way I had some conversations with some folks. First I met a woman named Lauren (I think) and Sara who would later Facebook “friend” me after the race. We quickly found that the three of us were either already 40 or turning 40 in 2010. I dubbed us “the 40 club.” They stopped at one of the aid stations and I kept going. Then I met a guy from Connecticut who said that he was watching me for the past 5 miles or so and he thought my pace was really steady… I think he’d stopped at an aid station and caught back up with me… He said that for years he’d had a recurring dream where he was running forever and ever and that this was the manifestation of his dream. I was kind of fascinated by this because my motivation for doing this had so many other variables. There is a web of reasons that lead me to attempt to run this race. And this man’s dream seemed so much more simple and pure… “I dreamed of running forever. Now I am running forever…” Kind of poetic in a way. He then ran into the woods to pee.

Somewhere around miles 11 and 12 I ran up the first long incline and started coming down the long decent past the place we were staying. To my pleasant surprise I saw Liz, the kids and Laura at the side of the road cheering me on. I let out a scream, “Yeah!!!!!” And I stop, grab an orange from Liz and give the kids a kiss. Emily turns away as usual… “no Daddy, you’re all sweaty…” I can’t help it... I have to kiss her anyway… Down this road I ran with a young woman a young guy from the Jersey shore wearing a shirt that said “Smile Patrol”. They passed me when I paused to see my family.

I took the rest of the hill fast. I don’t know why it is but I tend to dominate other runners when I go down hill. Other than this one seemingly strong attribute I tend to be “below average” speed. I caught up and passed the guy and the young woman and ran alone for a mile or so. The “Smile Patrol” guy caught up to me and started a conversation. He was a very nice and up-beat guy. We chatted for a while and then hit Bopple Hill at mile 14. It was highly recommended that first time ultra runners walk the hills… After viewing the course I thought if I walked all of the hills I wouldn’t be finished running this until Christmas so not doing that… BUT Bopple Hill is the course monster as I described before so I walked this one with the Smile Patrolman. He’s from the Jersey shore. We started talking about his shirt and he said that smiling releases endorphins into your system that help you through painful experiences such as long distance running. He told the story of some female marathon record holder and how she smiles through all of her runs. Its something that I would normally think was absurd if I hadn’t read about it in “Born to Run”. Apparently the Tarahamura tribes smile through all of their 50-100 mile runs down in the mountains of Mexico. There is a beauty to this too. And this reminds me of Ghandi’s quote about how when you truly accept the pain you’re going through it transforms itself into elation.

Half way up the hill the young woman from the downhill with Liz and the kids caught up to us. We talk briefly but she seems intent on moving on a bit quicker. I later passed her only to have her pass me which went on for about 10 miles or so before she went up ahead. The smile patrolman and I almost made it to the top before we encounter an older gentleman with a shaved head walking up. The graveyard was now on the right. “How we doin?” I say. “Uhhh, I kind of feel like crap.” He says. He did look like he was struggling a bit… bad sign. Didn’t look like he was going to make it. I tried to be encouraging by yelling, “Well you’re at the top of the worst hill on the course!” Don’t think that helped much… There was a car of people at the top. “Do you need anything?” A young girl asked him. “Naw, I’m ok.” He said. The smile patrolman said, “well I think I’m going to be moving on…” “Ok,” I said, “good luck!” Off he went. And off I went… a little more slowly.

I looked down and saw mile marker 15 on the ground. I felt fantastic. I was very excited about this. My legs felt as if I hadn’t run a step. I was still feeling very fresh. It was the beginning of what was turning into a truly awesome experience. On I went up the much more gradual incline for a half mile or so and then the hill flattened out. I was alone on the run for the first time.

more to come...

Race Day Weekend

I was in no state of mind to be blogging at the end of last week and when I got to our condo on Lake Canandaigua there was no internet access anyway so I will write this entry to recall everything as best I remember.

I spent the whole week hydrating and “carbing up.” I was definitely fidgety all week long at work and the trips I made to the bathroom from all of the hydrating failed to settle my nerves at all. Thankfully I took Thursday and Friday off. Thursday evening we went up to my father-in-law’s in the Pocono mountains. The group included me, my wife, Liz, my sister-in-law, Laura, her boyfriend, Steve who would be running the ultra with me and my two kids, Emily and Will.

Friday – touring the course:

I slept well. Friday morning we were off at about 8:30am. The kids, Liz and I in our busted up Toyota Forerunner and Steve and Laura in Steve’s new red GTI. It was a 4 hour drive from the Poconos. I went to Syracuse University so I’m familiar with long drives to upstate New York in the autumn. The weather was perfect, in the 60’s. All along the way were rolling hills and mountains with the leaves all changing color… just beautiful scenery.

When we finally made it to the lake area there were little towns with fruit stands and vineyards. I was relatively relaxed considering the run was happening the next day. Then we hit Bopple Hill which I knew from the “Can Lake 50” web site that I would be running up the next morning at about 14 miles in. We came from the south so when we hit it we were at the top of the hill. It’s a very steep 0.8 mile incline which isn’t so bad. I would have to go up this hill and then run another 35 miles afterward. I then caught my first good look at the lake…

I felt my first wave of terror. There were mountains!!!... All around it! My stomach sank and I thought, “What in God’s name did I sign up for?!?!”

We continued our drive going down the hill and then up another incline for another mile or so. Then it leveled off and we quickly came to the resort where we were staying. A picturesque golf resort at the absolute perfect time of year. I tried to calm my nerves as we unpacked the truck.

It was around 1:30pm and Liz needed to run 18 miles because she’s training for the Philadelphia Marathon in November. We thought it would be a good idea for her to go out and act as a “scout” giving us an idea of what it was like. It was also nap time for the two kids so I asked Laura (who was the unsung hero of the weekend) to stay with Will while he napped and while Liz was running. Steve and I would take the truck with Emily who would fall asleep and we could tour the course. I figured it would take us about an hour and a half… I was wrong about that.

Our directions to the starting line were vague as Steve was looking at them and trying to program my uncooperative GPS. It took us about 45 minutes to actually get to the start and then to figure out where we were going to run. It was at a small community college on the lake that is presently under construction so navigating the campus was a little confusing. This wasn’t really settling my nerves. But after a 9 mile wrong turn we made it to the course. I was really getting nervous.

Then we drove it. The first 10-11 miles weren’t so bad, relatively flat. Then some long inclines passing our resort, then down again until Bopple Hill at mile 14. There’s a graveyard right at the top. Perfect for those of us runners who like corny, dark humor. Up that, turn left, up again for another half mile or so and then a huge meandering decline that lasted about 3-4 miles. My mind was digesting everything it saw. The road flattened out and we came upon some small fishing towns. We were checking off where the aid stations were… There was mile 22, next one mile 27…

Miles 20 through 27 were relatively flat as well. Then it began a very slow and rolling incline that would last another 5 miles until I hit a much steeper incline that would last until about mile 33 and a half. The road just seemed to go on and on out in the middle of nowhere. The next aid station was mile 38. It was at the bottom of a steep decline. There was a small dock and a port a potty.

From there the second worst hill went up pretty steeply for about a mile and a half. The last 10 miles looked digestible enough… Long stretches of road with long gradual inclines and declines. The race ended back at the community college.

Back home for dinner:

Emily woke up at around mile 31 of our tour so I entertained her by playing her Lightning McQueen CD and pointing to all of the cows and ponds from there on along the way. We sang and played games. She remained in good spirits.

When we made it back I realized that it had taken us 3 and a half hours to tour the course which meant poor Laura ended up baby-sitting Will after he woke up which I really wanted to avoid happening. But she was very good about it as she always is. That’s why my kids love their Aunt Laura.

Finally Liz returned from her 18 mile run and the look on her face failed to settle my nerves. I knew what she was thinking because she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. She later admitted that she was scared that I was going to kill myself up and down those hills.

Laura and Steve ended up taking off to get our race bibs and to swing by the grocery store for food. They came back and cooked a nice pasta dinner… more carbs. I admitted that I was scared and Steve said that he wasn’t. I believed him. I must say that I was excited as well. I had nervousness that I don’t usually get prior to runs. I never got nervous before either of the marathons I ran. I took this as a positive omen.

On TV the Phillies were beating up the Reds in the National League Divisional series… something that would normally have me enthralled and had me very excited. But the gravity of running 50 miles the next morning was weighing on me and I couldn’t get into the game though I watched it until the end.

Time for bed:

Before bed Liz gave me some words of encouragement and that settled me down a bit. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and got everything together… Camelback hydration pack full and ready to go, Chomps electrolyte cubes, other snacks as well, sneakers, socks, shorts, long sleeved shirt, the list of donators that I would bring with me, the course directions (don’t want to get lost out there)… yup, that’s everything! Now all I have to do is sleep… not happening. I laid there for about an hour and a half all wired up. They said this would happen to me. Finally I went out. I woke up at 4am to go to the bathroom and I was up for good looking at the clock until 5:00 which is when we said we were going to wake up.

to be continued...

The ultra marathon to-do list

– fill up iPod with some new songs
– Congo conference call at 10pm
– Clean house for prospective buyers
– Pack up cars
– Send final email to friends

Things I need on trip:
o Chomps
o Gatorade
o Bananas
o oranges
o Pasta/carbs
o Nuts
o Pretzels
o Coke
o Camelbak back pack
o Running belt
o Running clothes for cold and warm and a change of clothes
o Odwala bars/peanut butter sandwich/bagel?
o Chocolate milk
o Bottled water for re-fill
o New phone
o Final list of donators
o A book

I was just reading about the Phillies in the post season and Charlie Manuel and Jayson Werth were talking about “wanting” to play… how exciting it gets… that’s how I feel now. I want to run this.

Every day you should try to save the world… You will fail at this, but you should try to do it anyway.

Am I feeling on edge?… being self indulgent?... it doesn’t really matter.

I’m definitely feeling edgy this week. Luckily I’ve been able to sleep well. I have two concerns for the run. One is a sore left knee which really hurt about a week and a half ago but is dulling down now. The other is what feels like an impending sinus infection which I really don’t need at this point. I’m drinking fluids like mad and trying to get some much needed rest. This week is the first week in a long time that I’ve put resting in front of running. Today I was supposed to run 6 miles but I only ran 3.5 and then I walked from work to Penn Station which is roughly a mile and a half. I’ve completed the critical training. This week is the end of my tapering so I’m babying myself a bit to ensure that I’m feeling as good as possible on Saturday.

What’s been going on in my mind when I’m not running around like a madman at my job? Well, I’ve been thinking of the people who’ve sent me notes of encouragement and support. Its really been the nicest surprise out of all of this. Mostly on Facebook, I get messages from people all over giving me compliments and uplifting sentiments… people from Seattle, Chicago, Denver, Spain, Ottowa, cousins from Argentina. They say things like I’m “amazing” and “awesome”. It makes me feel self conscious. Today I was talking about it and a colleague asked, “Do you like the attention, Dan?” and I said, “yes.” Its true. I do like the attention. Do I think I’m “amazing” and “awesome?” …eh, I don’t know about all that. I will say this…

I sometimes think about people who get into trouble with their own low self-esteem and how much it can really get in the way of living a good life. You can see it all the time with people. Many times its totally obvious to all but the person themselves. I’m definitely guilty of feeling low about myself at points. In fact if you really want to get into the psychology of what I’m doing (i.e. running the 50, joining a political movement and posting all about it on the internet), you could surmise that I’m compensating for something, like some kind of inadequacy. And you’re probably right... the big lesson I’ve learned here is that it really doesn’t matter. I’ve been asked if I was trying to prove something. I think so. People have said cynically, “what?... are you trying to save the world?” Yes, I think I’m doing that too. I am trying to save the world. But I will be clear. I have no delusions of succeeding at this. I’m not insane. So if you want to take my advice, here it is:

Every day you should try to save the world… You will fail at this, but you should try to do it anyway.

And there it is. Its that simple. The “what I’ve learned from training to run 50 miles” statement.

My final weekend of training...

I can't believe I've made it this far without any major injury. Tomorrow I run 9 miles and then on Sunday another 6. I'm in a strange state. On the one hand I feel very confident that I will make the 50 mile run after all of my training. On the other I am still very nervous. I really don't know how I am going to hold up until I get out there and attempt it.

$1980.00 raised. Here's the list of the 25 contributors to date:

Mile 1 – Sally Fridy

Mile 2 – Sally Fridy

Mile 3 – Sally Fridy

Mile 4 – Sally Fridy

Mile 5 – Sally Fridy

Mile 6 – Gustavo Gutierrez

Mile 7 – Kevin Weaver

Mile 8 – Tammy Breitenbach

Mile 9 – Carlos Jimenes

Mile 10 – Krista Vasquez

Mile 11 – Thiago Da Silva(.25), Cate Cannon(.25), Simon O’Neil(.25), Hollie Goldman(.25)

Mile 12 – Melissa Ashley

Mile 13 – Tim Nudd (.3), Jill Ozovek (.2), Anne Reel (.5)

Mile 14 – Kim Rivielle

Mile 15 – Michele Foster (.5), Kevin LaCroix (.5)

Mile 16 - Jon Mester

Mile 17 - Carole Ferrari

Mile 18 - Joseph Librizzi

Mile 19 - John Nowaczyk

Mile 20 - Gina Guariglia (.25), Gustavo Gutierrez (.2), Lili & Sean Murphy (.5 miles), Amanda Powers (.35 miles)


__________________________________________________________________


Also, I was looking at the runs on my training schedule since the end of December, 2009. Here's the tallies:

- 1502 miles run so far (approx)

- 1 32 mile run (farthest run at one time)

- 5 runs that were marathon length or more

- 12 runs that were 20 miles or more

- 25 runs that were 15 miles or more

- 45 runs that were 10 miles or more

Inspiration...

I just got back from running 3 miles. I'll run another 4 at lunch time. It occurred to me that even though I sit around thinking about the "deaf ears" there's so much more to consider when I accept the fact that maybe I've actually inspired some folks out there. And I've raised some awareness for the women and children of Congo. In that sense, I've done my job and I've passed along some of the inspiration that has taken me... I got it good. That's all there is to it.

“Sister Dan”

Recently in an attempt to amp up donations to my “50 Miles to Congo” cause I began posting my web address on Lisa Shannon’s Facebook page. I was surprised at how accessible Lisa herself was on her page. Almost instantly she wrote “love it” and “Let’s all support Sister Dan!” I was thrilled about this honestly. And even though I am a touch hesitant to digest the idea of being referred to as “Sister Dan,” I was honored that she did. On Saturday, I posted on her page that I didn’t think I was going to make the $5000 goal that I had set out to accomplish. And in response Lisa wrote that if I could assemble 30 people together in one place that she would personally call in to pitch sponsorship to them. I also found out in the last week that Lisa was chosen by Oprah Winfrey as one of 2010’s most powerful women in this month’s “O” Magazine. On top of all of this, I found out that the NYC chapter of “Run for Congo Women” raised $48k on Saturday and an anonymous contributor promised to match the amount. Today I sent an email to my boss and to my CEO asking if they would be willing to allow me to get people together at IIR. I spoke to my boss briefly and she said that there may be logistical issues but we may be able to work something out. I am waiting to hear back from them.

All of this stuff is exciting and interesting but I am forced to think about what the cause is all about and how monumental a cause it is in the first place… Its partly why I chose this cause for my run. Its seemingly impossible to conceptualize and rectify in your mind. Still many people don’t really have any idea of what goes on in the Congo and it all kind of fascinates me in a way. Like, even myself, I have to confront myself sometimes about what I’m doing. Is this just a one time push to raise money or is this something I will continue to commit time and effort to? As I wrote on my site when I first took this on... Everyone knows the answer to, “do I help a suffering child?” You must act. So, I seem to have put myself in a bind… Becoming “Sister Dan” could potentially and ironically define the kind of man I choose to be. Man, if I keep going with this train of thought I just start sounding weirder and weirder… as if attempting to run 50 miles is normal!

The truth is that we all have the same answer to that question. So what ends up happening?... what is referred to as "activism"... I'm now acting like an "activist". Putting this stuff in front of people and saying, "Look at this. Are you going to deal with this or not?" Its a drag, right, a buzz kill. But, on the other hand, what else is there to do? It reminds me of the quandry Paul O'Neil found himself in with George W. Bush after visiting African countries with Bono... like weirdly realizing that I have the power to do something here and then saying something about it to deaf ears. Only to realize that I was just as deaf not 2 minutes before. All very odd...

At the end of the peak, a bald eagle...

Yesterday's run was the last of my very long training runs. It lasted 5 hours and 14 minutes and it was one of the best runs in all of my training. I went up to my long time friend Matt's summer house in the Catskills for his 40th birthday. The house is gorgeous. It sits on the Delaware River. Matt cooked ribs and sausage on the grille. We roasted marsh-mellos on the fire and made s'mores. the stars and moon came out and my 2 year old daughter, Emily, ran out on the yard and started jumping up in the air "catching the stars". She would catch a start and then run it over to one of us standing in the yard watching. It was the best. I woke up at 4:50am without an alarm and set out on the pitch black road. Luckily Matt had a head lantern that I wore which I honestly don't know how I would have managed without because there was NO light on the road. I took two steps on the road and came face to face with a skunk who was just sitting on the side of the road. It's 2 eyes glowed by the dim light of my lantern which freaked me out at first and then I made out its form in the dark. I just ran right by it and it didn't seem to care much about me. Then I kept on going in the dark. The light of my head-lantern was the only light source except for the occasional house light that went by. And there were points that were just plain creepy. Like I heard something howling. I thought to myself, "There is something howling..." I just kept going. And there were all these abandoned barns that just looked like something out of the Blair Witch Project the way they very faintly would appear as my light flickered against them. It didn't start to get light out until about 6. So that hour was interesting because of all of the "goings on" in the darkness... I didn't listen to music because I wanted to keep my wits about me. Between 6:00 and 7:00 I ran the same route that I ran from 5:00 to 6:00. The sun was coming up and I got to see all of the forms that were creeping me out in the pitch black. That was interesting. I also saw that there were parts where I was running on the river's ridge that was surprisingly high above the water. From 7:00 to 8:00 I ran into the woods on a dirt road that Matt said would take me 5 and a half miles to the next main road and then I could turn back. I headed down the road, took a wrong turn and ended up at a dead end at about 40 minutes in. So I turned around and headed back. There were parts of this run where the scenery was just beautiful. At one point I came out of the woods into this massive field of overgrown grass that was surrounded by the woods. I felt like I'd found a whole new part of the world. And the fact that I was running on dirt made my legs grateful... its just a lot less pounding on the body than the pavement. By 8:00 I was back at Matt's and he'd asked me to swing by at 8:00 because he may want to run some with me. I had 2 more hours to go and was wondering if he'd be able to do 2 hours of running. He did exactly that which was pleasantly surprising and it just made the end of the run fantastic. We ran somewhere between 11 and 12 miles and just talked most of the way which kept my mind off the fact that I was running somewhere in the last 10 miles out of 50 for the weekend. The weather was perfect for running and to end it all we saw a bald eagle right at the end of the run just about 500 feet from Matt's driveway. It was perched in a tree high above the water but that we were at eye-level with because of the ridge that the road was on. I'm going to try and be somewhat poetic here and take that eagle as a good omen... such a powerful animal that has, to this day survived extinction. It was enormous. It was the first time I'd ever seen one just living in the wild. Just awesome. I felt great (only a little sore). It was a great run.