Pumpkin Hollar Hundred- Why I Run Part One

This story is three months late. It took some self reflection to truly process the experience and will be joined by some companion pieces on other races soon.

Why do I Run:

Pumpkin Hollar Hundred

We were fresh from an international flight after spending four days in Paris. She met me there as I was coming in from my two week trip volunteering in Togo, Africa. We had not seen one another for two weeks and were enraptured being together, being in a new country, and we did it all on foot, walking on average 14-16 miles a day.

We arrived home Thursday and on Friday left again. So, we spent four days days walking around a foreign city we didn’t know, came home, unpacked one suit case only to load up four others: for myself, Jessy, and the two kids. We loaded everything into our small Ranger truck and drove four hours north into Oklahoma.

We dropped the kids off with a close friend and babysitter and continued North to Talequah to the race site. Here, we climbed in the camper lidded bed of the truck and fell asleep for what few hours of nightfall were left. 

When we woke, we did the usual grabbing of bibs and saying hello to all the other familiar runners. I was set to run the 50k and Jessy was going for her hundo, or 100 mile finish. I was greeted warmly by many runners and they all joked with me that I would finish another fast 50k. I didn’t plan on running for time or speed. I just wanted to run and enjoy the day and some time alone on the course to process everything from my trip, but I let these words and expectations sink in. I had to go fast because I was expected too. 

The race began, so I began. Not to run and contemplate and enjoy myself, but to race. I came to the first aide station and stopped quickly for a shot of whiskey and bite of food. I continued forward feeling fast and free. I ran through the next aide station without stopping, simply giving out some happy high fives. When I reached the next stop and was about halfway done with my distance, things were off. 

I was exhausted. I started the day exhausted. Why was I running so fast? I didn’t plan to race, but here I was, stuck in this mentality. I stopped at the Waffle Stop aide station and enjoyed a buttery waffle and said to myself, “enjoy it from here on.”

Awesome! Here we go. 

But it was a long down hill from the station, so I ran quickly. Because it was fun. And I flew and felt free. But then uphills came and I didn’t feel so free. I felt like my legs weighed 50 pounds each. I was slowing and walking more and getting frustrated. I felt tears on my cheeks. I was hungry. I snacked on some sugary carbs from my pack and drank water. Not enough. I stayed frustrated. Got angry.

Next aide station was at the bottom of the “Gourd Challenge.” It was a one mile trek up a steep hill and there was always a prize at the top. I enjoyed a bloody mary at the aide station with a fellow runner friend, Steve. I’ll enjoy a little power hike up this hill, get a cool buff or something and reset. Steve joked if I was going to run quickly up the hill. Dammit.

I ran up the hill. He stopped and grabbed a beer while arriving shortly after me. I didn’t. I ran down. And then kept running. But not fast. And not free. And not fun. I was so caught in my head that I had lost my joy. I was so tired and knowing the truck, where I could lay down and take a nap and a break, was so far away was a burden.

Now, I walked. It took a long time to knock each mile out. I cried. I stopped at three more aide stations. At one, I laid down on the ground and a volunteer’s granddaughter or some such relation started jumping over my head. At another, I squat down and said something was wrong with my nutrition. They offered water and crackers. I refused. At the last, I had some soda hoping for a miracle, but the finish still seemed so far away.

I ran and walked and stayed tired. The sun was shining and the day was beautiful but I didn’t see any of those details. I didn’t notice that there was a beautiful field with a lake to my left or see this cool and tall craggy white barked tree as I came to a final turn in the road. I failed to take in the view of the finish as I crossed over the final bridge. The turn into the park and approach to the timing mats was a really cool set up through the camp site. I saw nothing but the end.

I finished my march and headed to my truck. Here I lay down and tried to take a nap. 

That did not go as planned, either. 

I did rest. For a moment. Eyes closed, laying prone and everything. But then I started receiving messages from Jessy. Her run was not going well. She was slightly behind her projected time for this loop and had another runner with her. While at times, fellow runners can be wonderful companionship, nut there are also days where one just wants to run in the peace and quiet. Her wish for, and denile of the latter was messing with her focus. 

So, I lay in my truck having already run 32 miles. I have been back on American soil about 52 hours and my girlfriend is having a rough go at her 100 mile distance. She asks me to join her on her second loop, instead of the third as we planned.

I get ready to go out. I help her get ready to go back out. We venture into the fading sunlight and over the rolling jeep roads for our overnight adventure. 

Over the next eight hours, we move. We never stop moving. And it is steady, but it is undulant over the unforgiving hills and after about two hours in, the rains began. The trickle lasted only two minutes before it was a true downpour. And it was relentless. 

We would come to patches of solid water crossings covering the road that we would choose to either wade straight through or try and traverse the muddy banks on either side. Our lights were dimming and brightening as the batteries fussed from all the moisture. Mine keep getting stuck in my poncho hood and therefore the beam was always skewed just a bit higher than I needed to clearly see. I ran poorly as a result. 

I stayed slightly behind Jessy because of my lack of vision. I tried to call out when hills broke so we could run decents but these became harder to make out as the rain and darkness skewed the landscape. 

I tried to keep conversation going but my mind felt so foggy and my back ached. My muscles burned and everything still felt heavy from being so tired. I looked to the side of the road after glimpsing movement beside me. I saw a greenish silvery scales on the back of a two foot tall dinosaur. I started to jump before realizing it was only a toy. How weird that it was out here. This race happens every year close to Halloween and it is well known that local kids play pranks on the runners. Kudos to whatever kid thought to put out some creepy toys. 

We continued forward, speaking of silliness and running, asking memories of this or thoughts on that. I told her every story I could remember from my trip to Togo. We reminisced about Paris. 

As we spoke, two things continued to happen. The rain poured on. Lightening burst in the distance and thundered cracked. Hail beat down on us at one point. And I continued to notice broken baby dolls, scraggly stuffed animals, and robots in disarray. Who ever was pulling that prank had done an elaborate job placing them over so many miles. I wasn’t mentioning them to Jessy knowing she was very focusing on her run and knocking the miles out, one by one. 

I started to drag even harder. I was trying to continue forward and be optimistic for her, but my sleep deprivation had caught up to me. The toys were getting scary. My aches and pains were loudly screaming, and the rain was starting to wear me down. Jessy’s frustrations mounted as my composure waned. 

We came to a turn in the road. I felt we were going the right way by hugging close to the left, but I second guessed myself. If we turned the wrong way, that was extra miles and stolen time when we were already chasing a cutoff. As I was checking my phone GPS to feel more certain about our route, I realized just how tired I was. Spinning my light back, I saw the turn was clearly marked, I just didn’t see it. I looked to the side and one of the broken baby dolls that I had been seeing was laying on the side of the trail. I steadied my light on it only to see it was a cut tree trunk. A small, toddler sized log on the side of the road. 

Oh shit. 

I needed to give everything I had at this point to keep Jessy pushing forward. To get myself to the line. We were coming close to the bridge crossing which meant we were in the final few miles of this loop. I pulled the last trick I had available from my hat. 

“Wanna see me do an African Dance?”

I danced. It was raining and I had a soaking wet poncho and busted head light and thunder rolled as my only soundtrack, but I danced. And we continued forward. 

We finished the loop and Jessy did a quick clothing change and fuel reload before heading out for her final loop. I sat down in my truck, unable to even comprehend how she was going back out for another loop. I put my head back feeling horrible. Physically I was beyond spent, but mentally I knew I had not been the support Jessy needed. She ended up pulling me instead of me pushing her. I gave her literally all I had, and she came in frustrated. 

I lay there wishing and pushing out my final energy toward her hoping for a good and solid final loop, but as I closed my eyes, finally falling into the slumber I’d pined for all day, I heard rain begin to fall again. 

I awoke a few hours later as the sun was beginning to peak over the edge of the earth. The rain had stopped and the world had a very new and very fresh look to it. My legs were stiff from being folded under me as I slept in the passenger seat of the truck. I was shivering from the cool morning air mixed with my wet clothes still on from the night before. 

I quickly changed and moved over to the start finish area. There was hot coffee and breakfast tacos, both of which I took advantage. Runners were coming in, as they had been throughout the night. Pretty quickly RJ came and found me. RJ is a Race Director, fellow runner, and a member of Jessy’s family of choice.

“Jessy’s in trouble.”

“Okay, what do we need to do?”

The next four hours consisted of RJ and I rolling out in his truck to meet Jessy at the half point aide station. Here, I helped her get into a fresh, dry shirt, we got some calories into her body and kept her moving. RJ geared up and headed out with her to pace her to the finish. 

I took RJ’s truck back to the start/finish to wait. I was joined by other runners who had finished various distances through the night, all excited for Jessy to break this huge milestone achievement. 

She crossed the line at 29 hours and 59 minutes, beating the cutoff by a hair. She was awarded with a buckle for her finish, a hammock for coming in dead fucking last, and so many hugs and congrats and warmth. I was so proud.

It has taken me months to put out this race report. I spent two days at Pumpkin Hollar forgetting who I was and why I run and spent the next three months still in the dark. I felt like a failure that day because I was so caught up with a need to “race” and run “fast” and be “great” that I forgot that the run is an adventure and a journey. 

I wanted to be the best runner I could be, despite being exhausted from my travels, and because of my travels, being undertrained. I wanted to be a rockstar pacer for Jessy, even though starting out I knew I would be lucky to complete another loop. I needed to be the best at every part of everything that weekend, and I couldn’t.

At one point during the night, as Jessy and I waded through torrential rains over an astronomical distance at a ridiculous hour in the morning, the lightening struck so close and so bright, the whole world illuminated. We were moving in pitch black, and them BAM the lights were on. Thunder clapped, loud, just seconds later. In those illuminated moments, we would see all across rolling farm land. A barn beside a lake, beautiful under the rain, would appear from no where. A distant tree line or pine and birch would jump out over a waving field. 

I enjoy being competitive, but I am learning not to run to be the best. I want to run because sometimes when you’re running, you can see the world illuminated in a whole new way.