Day 4
Thursday began in the dark, running for 4 mins and walking for 1 min, with Caleb timing us by Taylor Swift songs. At some point, we realized it was not just Thursday but also Thanksgiving, which felt appropriate because I couldn’t have felt more thankful than I did in that moment for Caleb’s companionship on this climb and for Claire’s driving, cooking, & organizing.
In the darkness, we saw Max’s truck and then Alex’s, parked on the side of the road; they were sleeping. As we ran past, I wondered how they were feeling, when they would wake-up, if I would see them later on the road. I had made my way from 7th place for most of day 1 to 5th to 3rd (at least for now).
Shortly before sunrise, Caleb stopped, having given me 3 incredible hours of pacing. I kept moving but, as the sun rose, realized that I needed a nap. When I reached the truck, Caleb had already fallen asleep outside so that I could have the front seat (what a gem). I ate some oatmeal & set a timer for 30 mins. I fell asleep almost immediately. While I was napping, Alex ran by and asked how we were all doing.
I had about 16 miles left in the long, steep climb. I trekked onward & soon passed Max’s parents, waiting for him. They hopped out of the truck & cheered for me in Spanish, clapping and waving with excitement. I waved back & wept behind my sunglasses, moved by their support (for me, for their son, for this whole crazy endeavor).
The tears continued for much of this climb, probably because I was alone and exhausted, lost in my own thoughts about the enormity of the desert and the task of running across it, overwhelmed by the love & connection embedded in the experience.
I thought of Claire and Caleb, 4 days in, doing everything they could to keep me moving forward. I thought of my wife, who is my number one supporter. I thought of all my famly and friends who believed in me and cheered for me. I thought of the other runners and their crews, working hard towards the same goal.
The music playing through my headphones was interrupted as my phone read me a text from Emily, one of my crew for LALV. She had somehow only gotten to pace me on uphill sections in that race and we had joked that her new hobby was hiking up hills, but only with me. The encouraging text made me both weep and hike faster, imagining she was next to me on this hill.
Eventually, when I stopped to have a snack, Max caught up to me. We hugged tightly and I wept, yet again. In the middle of this never-ending climb, there was something special about embracing another runner, one who I didn’t know just a few days before, but who had been on the same journey and was struggling up the same mountain. “This is so hard,” I said and hugged him tighter. We wished each other luck, promised to see each other at the finish, and continued onward.
I arrived at the truck and found Caleb in a totally absurd outfit. I laughed and told him I hated his pants. As I ate a nutella & peanut butter wrap, Claire shared that she had found Caleb’s toothbrush loose in the back of the truck (clearly, in the toothbrush section, located between two coolers). More laughter.
Caleb changed his pants; he claimed at first it was because he wanted to make me happy but later revealed that he thought he was getting sunburned through the fabric. We laughed at the possibility of him getting sunburned in a leopard print pattern. I declared that I actually NEEDED him to wear the pants for this reason. Fortunately for his skin, he did not agree to this request.
The day continued like this, filled with laughter, tears, and exhaustion - continuous massive waves of emotions. Towards the end of the climb, I had some service so I got to call a few friends, including some of my running buddies from @the504th, my wife (@maggieriddell), and Jack, who got me into ultras. Talking to them was rejuvenating.
After what felt like forever, I reached the top of the mountain. I could see the red truck down a steep hill & tried to run towards it. 400 km into the race, after 65 km of climbing, my legs would simply not run downhill.
How anti-climatic.
I walked to the truck where Caleb & Claire celebrated the end of the climb and offered me a buffet of food options.
The next section was downhill to Calama, a city where we’d be able to hopefully find some ice and restock on food. I shared some of these miles with Claire and then more with Caleb, who resumed his retelling of ‘Lessons in Chemistry’. I had planned to stop, eat a meal, and take a nap but after walking downhill a bit, I felt ready to run again so we continued onto Calama without a nap.
Claire dropped Caleb off at Walmart in Calama to restock supplies and charge some of our batteries. She and I sat in the truck at a gas station and I ate a delicious sandwich from a food truck. At that moment, it tasted better to me than a Thanksgiving dinner. I started running again, with plans to see Caleb and Claire again in about 45 minutes. I ran along the edge of the city, passing neighborhoods, corner stores, and some sort of river filled with lush plants. In the hot afternoon sun, I truly contemplated climbing down and taking a dip but thought better of it.
I was hot. I had heat rash all over my feet and legs. The mood boost from the sandwich had worn off and I had run out of water. I felt frustrated and irritable. I called Caleb and Claire and asked if they could hurry up to me (probably less patiently that I should have). When they found me, I took a moment to sit and soak my feet in the cool water. It felt so much better. With fresh socks and a fully stocked pack, I was in a slightly better place mentally.
Caleb joined me on the bike and we navigated onto our final road to San Pedro. A sign showed that we had less than 100 km remaining to San Pedro (although, I learned later that Claire had panicked briefly, thinking the sign was in miles). Almost all of this was uphill, starting with a 40 mi climb to the highest point of the race, 3500 meters (11,000 ft) above sea level.
I did some math in my head and figured we could finish by midday Friday if I kept pushing. I wanted to be done. I told my crew that I was going to see how much I could do without a “big” (2+ hr) nap.
As we headed out of Calama, Caleb resumed his strategy of entertaining me by telling me the plot of an entire television show. The next one, a period piece called “The Buccaneers”, went on for about 30 minutes before I told him I wanted to change the channel because I hated the show. Minutes later, our trusty bike got a flat tire. Probably karma for me wanting to change the channel. I kept running while my crew tried to fix the flat; it couldn’t be done. The bike had made it through nearly 3 days and given me hours of pacing, an incredible gift.
Around 7pm, Rob sent a picture from the cross - he was finished, winner of TSP Atacama! What a feat. He had conquered this epic race. I felt so proud of my friend and excited for his massive accomplishment. We exchanged voice notes and he offered to come find me if I needed anything, despite having just finished 300 miles of serious running. This is why I love these races. I told him he was crazy and needed to go sleep and asked if he had any shortcuts to share. He sent me a few screenshots of the map and shared some other tips (most importantly, that there was a final big climb before getting to the finish that I should mentally prepare for).
As I passed a field of massive windmills, I took in my final sunset of this beautiful race. The darkness settled around me and I focused on running towards the blinking of hazard lights of our truck.
3k. Pause for snack and water. Repeat.
Caleb was napping so that he could be ready to do some running later in the night. Claire was driving and making sure I had everything I needed.
At some point, when I got close to our truck, I spotted Alexandre & Charlotte’s silver truck parked nearby. They honked and yelled out the window to me in French. “Allez! Allez!”
They were settling in for a night of sleep and told me they would see me at the finish. I told Alex to catch me when he woke up - he is a fast runner, after all. I hadn’t seen either of them since the start but the love & support I felt from our brief conversation was exactly what I needed heading into the 4th night of running.
The fact that this is the only photo from this night should tell you how tired the three of us were.
Sleep deprivation & darkness started to get to me. The lights were playing tricks with my eyes. When I looked up the road to see the hazards of the truck, it seemed like people were running around in the road between me & the truck. As I got closer, they’d disappear.
I passed the time doing runners’ math; how many more hours did I have if I was running a 12 min mile? What about 13 min miles? 15 min miles? What if I slept for an hour? I converted km to miles back to km. I decided I really prefer the metric system, but my watch was giving me pace in mins/mile and I had no idea what paces for kms were. My same 2-hour playlist played on repeat. I counted the number of seconds it took a car to travel between me and the blinking hazards of the truck. Using that, the speed limit, and my pace, I tried to guess how long it would take me to get to the truck. I never remembered to see if I was right.
Eventually Caleb joined me & we resumed our run/walk strategy. At some point, I told him I needed to walk because it was uphill. He told me that it was flat or downhill. I disagreed. We argued back & forth. I felt annoyed that he didn’t believe me and I decided the best way to show him that it was uphill was to run. After a few minutes, he told me that I should go ahead without him. Being right didn’t make the hill any better, and now I was alone again. Not my best moment but perhaps a good strategy for a pacer trying to get me to run? Was that all part of the plan, Caleb?
Soon, I felt a sharp pain in my right heel. I took off my shoe & felt a wet spot where a blister had been. It had popped. Karma for trying to escape Caleb up the hill. Claire drove back to where we were & I wrapped my blister while we made a plan.
“We could sleep for 30 mins.. But what about an hour? Wouldn’t that be better?” Caleb suggested.
He was right. An hour of sleep was probably a good idea. I’d wake up “fresh” and ready to finish the final miles.
The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.
-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
