…And All the Rest
For a race I DNF’d, I sure have a lot to say! I’m going to start off with the story of Jonathan. For this race, we had to park at the finish and take a shuttle to the start. That bus ride to the start was almost thirty minutes long, and I sat next to a young man named Jonathan. I’ll say he’s 23 years old, because he told me he went into the military right out of high school, and has been in for five years. Jonathan was terrified. He told me he wasn’t really a runner, that he didn’t even like running, and had signed up for the 50 mile race because his friends convinced him. He told me the farthest he had ever run was 20 miles, and he didn’t know if he could complete the 50. I told him he absolutely could do it, and we discussed fueling strategies- he said he was so nervous he hadn’t eaten anything yet that day- and mental strategies we could use to get through the race. He kept saying things like “We have three hours to make it to the first aid station, and that’s ten miles- I know I can at least do that!” He had a piece of paper with all the cutoff times written on it. Finally we got there, I wished him good luck, and the race started. I saw him twice on the course-once I passed him, waved and gave him a thumbs up, and then when I was walking he passed me. At that point he said his hips hurt, but he was running and he looked good. Go Jonathan! After that I dropped out, so I didn’t see any more of him. The next day I checked the results. For the 50 mile race, there were 109 finishers, 16 DNF’s (sigh) and 14 DNS (Did Not Start.) I scanned the list of finishers, looking for Jonathan’s name. My eyes went down… and down… and there, at the very bottom, the last finisher was Jonathan. JONATHAN!!! He FINISHED! He was DFL- Dead Freaking Last- which in ultra running is a sort of honor. The DFL is the one out there the longest and presumably had to fight the hardest to get to the finish. Jonathan’s finish time was 15:40, twenty minutes before cutoff. When I think of what he must have gone through, out in the cold, rain, mud, for almost sixteen hours… the last four or five in the dark…I can only imagine this was a life-changing experience for him. My eyes well up with tears every time I picture him crossing the finish line. So… what’s next? As soon as she found out what happened, Darlene sent me a text: “50 miler near my friend in April. Maybe you will heal quick.” Yep… she gets me. Darlene was referring to a Florida race in early April, and there’s another 50 miler at the end of April that I’ve had my eye on. I’m thinking about doing one of those, but it all depends on how fast my ankle heals. The good news is, I think it’s a mild sprain. I can walk on it, slowly. It’s hard to move it side to side, but the discoloration is already fading. There’s still a lot of swelling, but it already feels better than it did a few days ago. I’m hopeful. An ultra in April is possible, but I’m not signing up for anything yet. My daughter said she think my injured foot looks better than the other one, because the non-injured one is so “boney and veiny.” I believe this is what’s known as adding insult to injury. And, what about Forgotten Florida? You might remember they had announced this was the last year this race would be held, which is one of the reasons I wanted to do it so badly. Apparently another group held an event in this area and left behind a lot of trash (WHO WOULD DO THAT?) so they said no more events. But… This race director donates a lot of money to the Florida Trail, and does a lot of work maintaining the trail system. Governor DeSantis intervened on his behalf, and convinced the powers-that-be to allow the race to be held again next year. I’m pretty sure I’ve never said this before but- thank you, Ron DeSantis! So….. will I try again? Honestly, right now I’m still trying to shake off some PTSD (the mud… the cold…) but in a few months I’ll probably be ready for redemption. Who wants to come down and run it with me next year??? – I’ll bring the rain ponchos.