Day 2
It was just before sunrise on Tuesday. I’d been running for a little over 24 hours but had been nauseous since about 8:30 pm. I was frustrated with my stomach, especially because my legs felt great. I wanted to run but running requires calories, & I was not doing well in that department.
My crew was a bit ahead when I started to feel dizzy. I used the walkie-talkies to call for them but didn’t get a response. I kept moving & tried again a few minutes later. Still no response. I sighed. I was fine. I could definitely make it to them.
Out of the darkness, I saw some headlights and heard voices asking if I needed anything. Someone else’s crew! Then I heard a voice say “Hey Lucy!” & I felt a flood of happiness; it was not just someone else’s crew.. it was my friend Nicki, a fellow LALV 2023 runner who was crewing for James. After a big hug, I gulped down some Coke & immediately felt better. His crew told me that James was off in the desert “that way” as they motioned into the distance. Unlike everyone else, James’s route had him in the middle of the desert. Incredible.
This unexpected reunion with Nicki and crew (+ the drink of Coke) lifted my spirits and cured my dizziness.
I jogged off toward Caleb & Claire as the sun rose and took in the breathtaking beauty of the desert. Caleb had run over 10 miles with me the night before, well beyond what he told me he could do each day, so I was ready to settle into many miles solo today.
When I got to my crew, I enjoyed some blueberry oatmeal and slept for about 20 minutes. An eternal optimist, I thought this could be the turning point for my stomach. It was not. I promptly threw up every bit of oatmeal I had consumed, sighed at the loss of calories, and continued running.
I was feeling tired & frustrated. There was nothing to do but keep moving forward & keep trying to eat. I jogged along & focused on being positive. I thought about how nice it had been to see Nicki. I thought about how much fun it had been to have Andrew along for the ride. I thought about how amazing my crew was. I thought about how we’d be getting a bike today, so I wouldn’t have to be alone so much.
Soon, Nils, Jarick, and Reana found me. More friends! I really love people. I wanted to know how they were doing and what they had been up to – mainly because I wanted to be distracted from my own challenges. They reminded me that they were there to get the update from me. I think I responded with, “Well, I’d rather not think about that because I’ve just been puking.” I gave them a more detailed update, with a positive spin on what had been a sort of rough night. Delusional positivity: my main strategy for getting through tough moments.
After they left, I realized that I had been running faster since being around them. Classic. That’s why this race was such an interesting experiment for me. When I ran LALV, I only ran alone for about 30 mi out of 290. I love running long distances “solo” but I don’t actually want to do them alone. I want to share them with friends, & I’m a better runner when I’ve got a friend.
I spent a lot of time leading up to this race reflecting on this because I knew I’d have to run most of this race alone. I’d tried to understand what exactly about running with someone else made it feel easier or go better. I have two answers so far: 1) When I’m with someone else, I want them to have fun and enjoy themselves. That means I’m cheerful, energetic, and positive. That impacts how fast I’m running and how I’m feeling overall. 2) I’m competitive and it helps to have someone else to feed off of (or race, even if just in my head).
In the weeks leading up to this race, I tried to think about why I couldn’t replicate those same feelings when I was alone. Didn’t I deserve to have fun and enjoy myself just as much as any running partner did? What could I do when I was alone to give me that same competitive drive?
I don’t have any of this figured out but I did run the most I’ve ever run alone during this race (which I’m proud of). AND my energy and mood continued to be boosted (more like shot off in a rocket) every time I saw other people. The contrast was truly incredible to experience.
Luckily, friends from Team Escape (Quinton, Britt, & CJ) were about to change the day for us. Mid-morning, as I looked at the array of food options Claire had laid out for, trying to choose something that might settle well, we heard the honking of a car horn.
Q! Britt! CJ! The bike.
This was the moment I had been waiting for. A week earlier, I had texted Quinton.. “I’ve got a crazy request.. Feel free to say no. Can you bike up a rental bike from the finish and find me on your drive to Iquique?”
Without hesitation, he had agreed. For context, we’re new friends. We’ve met only once in person. This was extremely generous of him. It was game-changing for me and my crew. And it was a sign of the incredible kindness and love that we would experience from so many people during the course of this race.
There was a flurry of hugs, lots of excitement, and updates on the race shared. I told them I was 10/10 overall but that my stomach was a 2/10. We took a selfie with the bike. Before we knew it, they were back on the road.
The magic of people: my nausea was gone. I had Claire, on the bike, to share miles with. The day had turned around.
We spent the next several hours with me running and either Caleb or Claire biking. It was hot. It was windy. But I was moving. And most importantly, I was eating. Every stop, we’d soak my shirt, buff, and hat in cold water. Two miles later, it would all be dry.
Eventually, Caleb pointed out that they could probably drive next to me slowly to give me a break from the wind. This was another highlight in a day that had gone from not great to exceptional. We did this until we paused for dinner, just before sunset (a lesson learned from the day before: finish eating before it’s dark and get moving again). At mile 140ish, I ate almost a full backpackers’ meal and was feeling drastically better than I had that morning. Together with my crew, I had made it through a significant low moment and come out on the other side.
After dinner, Claire and I headed out together. We were in great spirits and excited to finish the night strong.
We followed a smooth service road that ran parallel to the busier main road. Caleb had reminded us to stick to the main road but it seemed like we could take a short cut through the desert directly towards customs, where we were meeting him. Based on Google Maps, it looked like we could save a ton of time.
We headed off into the dark & could see customs in the distance. Our lights did little to cut through the darkness & it was hard to see the terrain any further than a few feet in front of us. We ended up on the edge of a cliff with customs just across a ravine, out of reach.
We called Caleb & compared maps, looking for a way out without backtracking all the way to the road, now miles away. There was a small mining cart track that seemed like it would take us to a nearby road. After much lost time trapped by cliffs, we had a solution. A few minutes later, we saw Caleb’s headlamp in the distance! A feeling of relief washed over me.
Suddenly, a large floodlight shined on us & a man yelled out in Spanish to us. Caleb ran down the steep hill to get to him. Without a shared language, they had to rely on Google translate. The man (a customs officer) explained that the cart track is used by drug smugglers. Caleb showed him our map & told him that I was running 300 mi. After much back & forth, he told us we could go on, let us take a picture with him, & led us back to the main road, while I jogged behind the two trucks.
The night had been far from the strong finish to the day I had hoped for. We had lost hours among the cliffs, more time with customs, & were all shaken up by the experience. We decided to stop for the night, at about 151 mi. I settled in to sleep but found it impossible after all that had happened.
When my alarm went off two hours later, I’m fairly certain none of us had really slept, despite being exhausted.
It was time to start running again, and I needed to figure out the best way to move forward.
When you can’t go back, you have to worry only about the best way of moving forward.
-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
