Helping the Unfortunate

Greetings Readers

As I hope that you have read this pane of comic by now, I had a tear roll down my cheek.

Only Opus would do something like this. And yes I would have done the same thing.

I know that this is just a comic, but you Readers have to ask yourself would you have done the same thing Opus did in this situation?

No doubt in my mind would I have sacrificed my well being for someone else’s content.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

A New Headlight for My Winter Bike

Greetings Readers

I absolutely hate buying any headlight(s) for my bike(s). To me that is a waste of money. And overall, they do cost an arm and a leg to buy (well, the name brand Cat’s-eye does since I am not going to buy a "cheap" no name brand). Not to mention that the batteries really do not hold that much power to power the headlight for a very long time and I have to keep buying new batteries to keep the headlight bright.

When I do buy a headlight I also have to buy a very large pack of double AA batteries since I would go through many batteries to keep that light bright.

Another thing is that I know the route home and I am usually pretty good about watching out for the vehicle traffic after dark.

When I get off work in the dark I usually stick to the sidewalks since riding in the gutter on the side of the road is pretty dangerous. How do I not know there is an object that fell off a vehicle and now lays waiting in the gutter? How do I not know that there is now a fairly large rock which could be waiting there for me to run over and either give me a flat or worse yet bend my rim?

Flashback – During the late Spring, Summer and Early Autumn I ride on the streets. Which means that I know almost every crack, dimple and condition of the road that I am riding on. I know where to avoid and where to avoid when on the bike path.

Present - Now, with the dark already in play when I get off work I have to stick to sidewalks and bike paths. And I have to re-learn where all the cracks, holes, damaged sidewalks and loose dirt might be on the road of life from the previous winter.

It is not that I do not want to ride on the sidewalks, but I am not comfortable riding on them since I am so use to riding in the streets and gutters.

Anyway, the headlight is something that I really do not need. I can see by the moon, if it out and I can make out my path with the streetlights. Though there are areas that are pitch black and that is when I have to go very slow and just hope there is nothing my riding path.

Also, during this time of the year I have to heighten my senses of my surroundings since it is more often than not full dark when I am riding home. Headlights from vehicles are only forward so I have to make sure that I be aware of side traffic turning.

Matter of fact a vehicle almost hit me last night. I was going my way home and I had the right of way since the side street had the stop sign, but alas even with my head light the vehicle did not see me so I have to swerve a second or two in out in front and that is when heard the quick braking of the truck and then my middle finger came out instantly. Was I scared? No. Pissed? A bit. But overall just thought to myself it has begun and it will be until February or so when I see days getting longer in the daytime and do not have to worry about riding in the dark.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, just a middle finger, but I have to admit that it felt like a moment to silently say, “Fuck you.” And that my Readers is the first almost being hit in the Autumn of 2008.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

A Fond Farewell

Greetings Readers

Time to bid a fond farewell. No one knows. Even I do not know.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

24 Hours of Boulder - Last Lap

Greetings Readers

“You can run on for a long time
run on for a long time
run on for a long time…”
God’s Gonna Cut You Down

I started the last lap, my last lap, basically at midnight. No fanfare and no cheering from anyone. I was alone and I was more alone that I have ever been. No “pacer” and no friend(s) to cheer or help me along. I was alone.

I could not even run. I was power walking and jogging when I could, which was going to be very, very rare. Once I had started the 7th lap I was not cold. I knew that mentally, but my body refused to listen to reason, or my head.

That propane heater is “The Bitch”, but also an angel. She was both to me that night. I loved her and I hated her.

When the witching hour was approaching I had to dig deep in my soul to get going and to see into the future. I saw myself sitting there for the next nine hours, which would be okay, but not okay. Not okay in my mind.

The 7th lap started for me and I had just rounded the small loop at the starting line. This was the final point to determine whether or not I was ready to run and complete another lap. After all, if there was any reason to say “no more” then this was the point to give up. I saw the tent at the starting line and then I saw myself shuffling by. And I did. I shuffled by and saw the first faint glow stick in the distance.

I reached the point of no return and I knew that this was going to be a lap that determined my outcome of the 24 hours of Boulder. As I saw and passed the tent with “The Bitch” I really got choked up. There were no tears, but a huge lump in my throat. This lap meant a lot to me. Meaning, I was going to run 50 miles officially and that meant a lot to me to look forward to.

I ignored every runner who was running towards me. I had neither the strength to respond nor the will to acknowledge the other fellow runners in the middle of the night. I had to concentrate on my lap and ignore all other “things” while doing that last lap. The most important thing was not to stop. If I fucking stop on the course I knew that was going to be the end of me.

I can see myself saying “Oh let me rest for a few minutes,” but that would turn into a quarter of an hour and me still taking a break. I did not want that to happen nor did I want to see any other runners see me do that. Yes, to me that is shameful, but I did not want to be that guy with the Southpark Jersey “taking a break” on the racecourse. No. Not ever.

Oh Readers, It was tough. I struggled, but I made sure to keep moving to the halfway point. The moon was out in her full glory and the night was warm. What a nice gesture by the biking gods. A lot of runners passed me by in the opposite direction, but only a few passed me by while going in the same direction. Thank goodness.

There were some cold pockets of air around the reservoir, but nothing to be worried about. At this point in the 24 hours of Boulder I had been over the racecourse 12 times. I knew the course and I knew terrain. So, when I neared the halfway point I started to get choked up. I think my eyes got a little teary eyed. I was just happy to make the halfway point alone and in with my mind intact.

There was a new volunteer manning the halfway point and he was a very nice guy. I checked in and then I asked if there was a local bus running on Sunday outside the Boulder Reservoir. He said he did not know. He then asked me what could he do for me. At this point I got really choked up. This was not from him saying that, but I knew in my heart that this was my last lap. I asked for more coke and to fill my water bottle with Coke, while I use the potty-a-potty. He was literally an angel in the night.

The volunteer asked me for a picture of me and I said not a problem. I think I smile as much as I could. I hope he remembers me and the kindness I thought he gave to me. I had some pretzels and chips before leaving the half way point. I needed some salt to get me going. I knew the return trip was going to test my soul. I grabbed another handful of pretzels and stuck them in my windbreaker jacket pocket for eating on my return trip to the starting line.

3.57 miles I had left to the start line. Basically, three and a half miles to go. However, I was a fucking mess and I was in no fucking condition to continue. Yet, the mental side of me had to continue since I wanted to say I did 50 miles come after the event. Well, not to say, but to brag to every one. I mean, come on, how many times can you say that you ran 50 miles within 24 hours. Especially 24 hours in boulder, more than a mile high sea level.

To me that is an awesome accomplishment. Out of 20 males that ran solo I was one of those 20 solo males. I have to say that I was not the last solo male to run a last place finish time, which to me was great. Well, more than great. As my ex-co-worker would say just “Awesome.”

I am happy to say that I did not stop once during that return trip to the starting line. Though, I was reduced to a shuffling sort of walking. I was sort of walking like the “Terminator” in the first Terminator movie. Left foot and then right foot, left foot then right foot. One foot in front of the other. You know when the Terminator got blown up in the Gas tanker and then the Terminator was chasing Kyle and Sarah to and in the factory.

In my mind I knew this was the last lap of the 24 hours of Boulder, but I wanted to push myself to the limit.

When I was on that last lap of mine I looked around me. I really looked. I looked at other runners doing the 24 hours of Boulder. I saw for the first time the best of the best of ultra-runners. And here I am in the middle of all of them.

I crossed the first of last two dams and I was hurting. Yet, not hurting enough to keep going.

Readers, at this point I was not walking / shuffling in a straight line. I was walking crooked. And yes, it fucking sucked. I was reduced to walking. And on top of that I was feeling pain in my feet and legs. And to top that off mentality, I was beginning to crack.

What I did not want to think about I started to think about. I started to estimate how far I had to run/walk to the start/finish line. Every step closer I thought about how far I had to go. I saw in the distance where I knew the start/finish line was but could not actually see. To me that is the most dangerous thing to think about when you know that you are at the end of your ropes.

I would have to estimate that I was about 2 miles away when a “fellow” runner asked if I was OK.

“No, I am not.” I whispered.

She looked at me and said something else, but I cannot remember for the life of me what was said.

“Should I get help?” she asks.

“You know better to ask, no help is available.” I whispered

“OK” and she quickly disappears into the darkness.

This was so close to the end and I started to worry about finishing this last lap. Many runners passed me coming in the opposite direction. And the few runners that passed me in the dark asked me if I was OK. Every time I heard that I would get choked up a bit. I mean how often is that someone asks if you are okay to keep running?

The last two miles I estimated were the worst. I was shuffling in a crooked step and I had a mission to finish this lap. I did not want to quit. I have quit before (in my past) and I did not want to quit again. I wanted to come and share with you Readers that I did something extraordinary to you.

I started to change my thinking when I really started to focus on distance. Mentality, I started to count my footsteps. I remembered what I do when I am biking and have to climb a hill. Just like the military “One, two, three, four, I love the marine core.” And I only do that when I need to get into a rhythm. I knew I could not use that exact same line, so I counted each step and I went as high as twenty and then started the count over. I have to say that helped me concentrate on each step taken as opposed to thinking how far I had to go with each step.

I struggled during that last mile of the loop. I knew that I had most likely ran my last loop on the dirt portion of the course and now the pavement greeted me for perhaps the very last time. What I did not know nor prepare for was the other runners knowing who I was at this point in the event and morning. Apparently, I was the guy that had a huge blister and continued to run on it. I was the guy that was struggling to complete another lap. I was the guy with the flashing glow stick.

“Hey, you have 200 yards to go” someone said to me.

With that I knew that people knew who I was trying to complete this last lap of mine. No one special, but someone who was struck down with an injury and was trying to complete another lap.

When I approached that last little loop a woman approached me. She offered water, food, and to accompany me on the small loop portion of the course. And she offered what I needed. Truth be told I did not know what I needed. I nodded no and whispered “no” while going forward.

“Are you sure that you do not need someone to accompany you around?”

Internally I cried. I was fucking beat tired. I did not want this woman to accompany me on the last loop, but I also did not want to really offend her. I was crying deeply inside, but not showing how I really felt. However, I wanted to stop and say thank you for the offer.

I whispered “No. I am okay. Thank you.” And again - I whispered this.

There were no tears shed on that small loop, but I cried a bit. I cried a bit since this was the last lap and I knew that I was not going to go any further.

Before approaching the start tent, the small loop, I heard “hey there is the guy with that blister.”

So, almost everyone heard of me is what I was thinking. With that there was a reason not to give up. I had less than a 100-yard to run; yet someone offered to run those last 100 yards with me.

Wow. I was impressed, but I said no and kept going. After all, I did fucking good up to this point in the race.

Turning the last corner was painful, but also I knew that this was the end. One – I was past the statistics of runners giving up and two I was fucking great for completing 50 miles within 24 hours (officially in 19 hours and 2 minutes).

I approached the table and signaled with my right hand across the throat “No mas” I whispered hoarsely No More. I knew that I should not have done that, but realistically I knew that I was not going to get to the position where I could fucking care for another lap to run with 5 hours left. After all, it was just an event. And I did fucking well.

4:02 A.M. – I was done. I hated to be done, but physically I had to call it. No More. No Mas. No More. Done.

“Done”

“The Bitch” was waiting for me to accompany her in the tent. She promised warmth and comfort from the cold and tired, which was me. I could not help myself. I walked to the tent and I saw “the Bitch.” She was giving out heat and I could feel that heat from the entrance of the tent. I felt a tear go down my right cheek. I did not realize how emotional I was at 4:02 A.M. but to know that I said “no more” was a relief. Mentally and physically, I was beat, but knowing that I did not have to do another lap was the best thing for me.

I dared not to go to sleep, since I was afraid of passing out so I kept awake and watched others come and go in the tent with “the Bitch” offering her warmth from the cool night.

I am going to write about the solo woman runner who eventually came the woman to run the most laps as a solo runner. She came into the tent after 4 A.M. I have no clue who she was and it is not important to me.

What is important that she showed signs of what I just showed up when I called “no mas.” Yet, in her case she had a pacer.

What I saw and heard in an hour’s worth was amazing. This runner had run her time. She was at the end of her running of her event, but not quite sure if she was done. And when I mean by not quite sure, I would say that she had 99 % given up. Yet, there was that 1 % left that was unsure. With her pacer she was there to change and urge her on for one more lap. Basically, not to give up. There was no yelling. There was “or else” speech. From her pacer she offered support. She offered drink. She offered food (soup). She offered the possibility of just on more lap. Just one more. The pacer told her not to get “too close” to the propane heater, the one I have come to reference as “the bitch.” Her pacer said it is only cold since the heater is giving out heat. Just start running again and the pacer promised to her that it would be okay out there on the course.

Me seeing and hearing this was pretty fantastic to see. I truly saw and heard how a pacer can help a runner in the middle of the night. If I had a pacer could I have run another lap? I do not know.

I am happy to say that with her pacer’s talking this solo female runner to run another lap got the runner the first place among the solo female runners. I witnessed that morning the will of a pacer and runner working together.

Overall, in those last hours I saw and heard the will of many runners trying to get another lap in before the deadline. I heard others trying to calculate in getting their 100 miles in before 9 A.M. I saw the other guy I saw that brought only a backpack like me snoring away across the tent in front of “the Bitch.”

When I saw the morning colors of dawn I was very, very happy even though I did not show it. I made it Readers. 24 hours in Boulder. I made it through the night. I ran 50 miles in 19 hours. Again, I made it through the night. I even took a picture of me sun burned and very, very tired in the last hours of the 24 Hours of Boulder, which is one of the pictures that I have posted on today’s blog post.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

24 Hours of Boulder - Running Under the Stars

Greetings Readers

When I left for the start of my 6th lap I could see the very last of the sunset disappearing over the Colorado Rockies. I was in awe of the dark orange sky that was slowly being overcome to the dark midnight blue and eventually to the blackness of the night.

What was funny, to me anyway, was that when I was running for the past 9 hours I did look at my watch and thought that I had 23 hours left to run, 20 hours, 18 hours, etc. I never thought of thinking of – gosh I only ran 1 hour, 3 hours, 6 hours, 8 hours, etc. I just thought to myself I have 21 hours to run, 18 hours to run, etc. No worry, but just thinking how much time I had left to.

Glow sticks littered the loop around the start of the lap. I have to admit it was pretty cool sight to see. Kind of reminded me of what a lighted landing strip an airline pilot might see from the nighttime sky.

I brought my glow stick along and I was going to hold onto, but with me holding onto my new water bottle I bought and holding onto the glow stick was going to be too much.

I decided right then to somehow strap my glow stick into my biking glove on the back of my hand thereby not worrying about actually grasping the glow stick. And I only had worry about my water bottle in my hand or in my fingers. The water bottle is not like my cycling water bottles, which in my view was unfortunate. Since I wanted a water bottle to grasp nicely in my hand, but so much for that idea.

Flashback – I was peeing throughout the day, but I know that I was not peeing enough. Which meant that I was not taking in enough liquids. With the start of the 6th lap and the pain in my feet and thighs I knew that nighttime was going to be a “bitch.” And that was when I decided I needed a water bottle.

Readers – I think I heard a “bitch” laughing at me from my past. If any of you faithful Readers have read the Santa Fe Century journal you know what “bitch.” Yes, this is just writing, but believe me I remember as well as she did who laughed last. That “bitch” was waiting for me and she mentally showed up at 24 Hours of Boulder.

Present – The night was basically here and I knew that this where most of the runners quit / said “no mas.” I did not want to become that statistic. I did feel refreshed after my “hot ramen soup,” my little rest break, a change of clothing and the coming of night.

As I was approaching the start line again from the small loop around the parking lot I turned on my battery operated glow stick and set the light for a constant light, as oppose the 7 different flashing modes I have available. Music was playing, there was just a bit of light left to see by, but darkness was coming fast.

I ran by the starting line and thought to myself this is it. What am I in for? How bad is it going to be for me running in the dark? How cold was it going to get? How many runners are left on the course? How bad are my feet? My thighs? Did I bring enough liquids in my new water bottle?

The questions never stopped in my mind. When was the moon going to be up? When did I see the moon the previous night when I went to Cherry Creek Mall and saw the moon coming up over the horizon? Was my glow stick going to be enough light to run with? Am I going to be constantly looking at the ground to see where I am running? Am I going to step into that pile of dog shit that was on the course?

As I was running in the dark on my first lap in the dark, I noticed that my pupils did adjust accordingly and I could see the stars in the sky. Wow. Not as close as being home on the Ranch in New Mexico, but this would do for my part. Funny thing was / is I thought of MIB (Men in Black) and I am pretty fucking sure that I could see the star constellation Orion’s belt in night time sky. What the fuck? I am not sure where or how that thought came into my head, but sure enough I know I saw Orion’s belt

Then, a few minutes later I saw my first of many shooting stars around Boulder Reservoir. And the child in me wished upon it.

So far running the dark was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I kept to my own pace, which by the way was no pace, just putting my foot in front of the other and keeping moving forward. I saw the car lights of the nearby highway, I saw the lights from lampposts around the Boulder Reservoir and then I saw the bobbing of lights on the course. I forgot – most runners had a headlamp on their head shining in from of them. I think I only saw two runners with an actual glow stick. Otherwise, the only glow sticks were scattered along the racecourse. I was thinking that is pretty neat seeing the green glow sticks all along the course.

Those glow sticks were not bright, but when you reached one glow stick you can then see the next glow stick on the course. In theory, I think that helped me to keep focus on running in the dark. I had something to focus and look forward to with each glow stick I came across on.

During the dark I hardly checked exactly what time it was at that moment. What I did do though was keep an ear out for my Ironman watch that I set to go off every 1 hour and 20 minutes. That gave me a sense of how much I have ran between the interval beeps.

I turned the final corner before seeing the halfway point. When I saw the halfway aid station I saw light. White and Orange light. There was a white lamp and then there was an Orange Pumpkin Halloween lights decoration that hung from the tent of the aid station.

I made it halfway in the dark for my first lap. I was slow, but I was steady and I was still going forward. I checked in, asked for some pop and then asked for some pop to be poured into my water bottle. I used the port-a-potty and then ate some snacks at sort of leaned against the wooden fence.

The volunteer who was there manning the station was very nice. Whether it was because it was his nature. Or if I was nice to him. Or if I was physically drained. I do not know, but I thanked him for his assistance while I was there. I got a bit choked up after roughly running about 38 miles and having a volunteer actually treat me as a friend as opposed to just a runner in the night. As much as I wanted to stay at the halfway point I had to get going. After all, I was halfway done with the loop and I had to run back the way I came.

9 P.M. No moon. I would have thought the moon would have been out by now, but nothing. I could see a fine layer of clouds in the sky. Which I think was sent by the biking gods. Oh yes, the biking gods can be kind should you not go against them. I think this was sent to me, us runners, to keep the night temperature warm. Meaning the clouds were retaining the heat of the earth from the day’s sun warmth heating up Mother Earth.

The return loop to the start line was the beginning of the difficulty I never thought I would have. I saw runners run by me like I was standing still. I fucking struggled to keep a weird jog or a power walk I was reduced to walking. I had a fucking struggle with going down hill, but going uphill I had no problem. I had problem with a few steps near the canal.

I also saw “pacers” that were with the runners they were pacing. Pacers were allowed after dark.

Readers, I am going to write about “Pacers” and my opinions, just my opinion, so do not think that is the way I feel about them now. “Pacers” are there to help runner(s) get through the night. Even before thinking about doing the 24 hours of Boulder I gave really no thought to “pacers.” But after a few hours in dark – I now know why a runner may need a “pacer.”

Running in the dark around Boulder Reservoir may break a weak-minded runner. Though this is pure speculation on my behalf. As you Readers read earlier, I was forming questions to myself in the dark. I was looking forward to the next glow stick I saw. I was getting choked up for the kindness of the volunteers. I do not consider myself mentally weak in a manner of speaking, but if I was not strong willed I would have been broken had I depended on the assistance of a pacer in the night.

I did okay, but when a pacer and runner ran past me or towards me I could hear them talking to each other. Conversation in the dark does help one’s mind when you are not alone. Again, I was okay and did not another person to talk and / or listen to. And that may be because I am single and live alone. So being alone running in the dark was really nothing new to me.

Anyway, after some time in the dark thinking about the “pacers” on the course, I am thankful that who ever that “pacer” was - he or she is doing their runner a great deed to help him/her through the night. A runner on the edge of quitting could be persuaded to keep running or walking. As opposed to having a runner thinking all by him or herself on what he/she should do. All it takes is someone to encourage you to keep going.

Me? I did not need encouragement. I just kept looking forward and worried about myself. Though, I started to think how far I had left to run. How far it was from one point on the course to the next point on the course in the dark.

I also kept thinking that I had to run over two dam sections before actually getting on the dirt road and then the paved road and then the final loop to the starting line.

During my return trip I was running alone and thinking of nothing when I felt a presence nearby. Readers I think most of you know you can tell when someone or something is nearby you. You can just sense it. I felt something was close, but not a runner. Thankfully, I was not thinking about scary movies, but the thought of some animal perhaps attacking me in my weaken state was a possibility. After all, I looked and walked like a wounded animal might do. The feeling of something close was getting stronger when all of a sudden I saw a shape in the dark on my left. I immediately moved to the right and got ready for anything. In the moonlight I saw it was a dog. Silently walking nearby me on the left and behind me. I knew this dog was not wild. My alarm soon became at ease since I had a dog keeping me company. You see Readers - “pacers” can make a difference in the runner’s mind in the dark.

I can only estimate, but I figured that I was about two miles away from starting line when I was walking in pain on my right foot. Every step was painful. The ball of my right foot I could feel that blister getting worse.

Coming around that final corner to the see the starting line I was pain. Whether I shut off the pain during that last lap or perhaps knowing that I can now stop and check my foot the pain was there and I noticed big time.

“Red hook tyrant has just finished his 6th lap.”

Wow. Fucking 42 miles. That last lap was worth the extra 7.14 miles to be added to the 35 miles I officially logged in.

For the past 5 laps I check in and then go off to my bag or the snack table. This time I walk straight to the table and ask for a nurse, or a first aid person. He pointed and said over there where there was another runner in the same condition I was in.

“Please take a seat while I finish up with him.”

Readers, I fucking could not sit. I could not bend my knees more than 10 degrees, I imagine. This was fucking incredible. I was not laughing or crying, but worrying about how in the fuck I was going to sit in that chair. As I wrote I had a hell of a time changing into my nighttime running gear. Well, take that moment and double or triple that difficulty. A volunteer came by and offered her hands to help lower me into the seat, but I looked at her solemn face and nodded no. I once more “manned up” and dropped into the chair. I did it, with a great deal of pain and my knees where now in the 90 degree sitting position.

I waited about 5 minutes or so while the nurse attended the other runner next to me. I waited. One volunteer brought me soup and drink while I waited. I was okay sitting and waiting. After all I was off my feet since I had been running and walking for the past 13 and a half hours. Yep, just a little past 10:30 PM.

“Alright your turn” “please put your foot up here”

Easier said than done. Readers, I was in a peaceful, not hurting state of being. I was sitting and resting while eating and drinking waiting for my turn.

Now, taking off my shoe, my sock and trying to will my foot off the ground to get on the medical box was fucking painful. I felt a tear go down the side of my face.

She looked at the bottom of my right foot and then asks someone else to look at my foot and then they ask Reid to look at the bottom of my foot. I was fucking worried why three people had to look at the bottom of my foot when the runner that was next to me getting his foot looked at only had her to look and attend his foot.

They asked questions, I answered. I asked questions, but they could not give a definite answer to my questions. Which I am sure was right and I agree on their stance.

Oh Readers - They tried to pop the blister, but apparently there was nothing to drain. But before attempting to pop they asked me if they want me to have them pop the blister. I think I said something to the effect if it will help please do. Also, if this is going to hurt let me grab onto something so I have something to focus the pain to. They swabbed with alcohol, which made me say, “Stop it tickles.” We all smiled since I said that tickles as opposed to that’s painful. Go figure. They poke and I braced for the needle and clenched my teeth, but apparently I did not even feel the pin prick on the bottom of my foot.

Bottom line – nothing could be done. I put my sock back on and they said alright you can go.

15 seconds later I was still looking at them. They were looking at me. I couldn’t move. I could not fucking get my legs to bend. My legs got stiff while sitting in that chair.

I can not remember how I got up out of that chair, but I can remember just standing right there where I was sitting. I could not make my legs bend and move to walk. Everything got tight in my legs. A volunteer asked if I needed help but I nodded no and said something to the effect let me walk to that table where I can hold onto and stretch my legs.

I felt this type of feeling before, but nothing to the effect I was feeling at that moment. I literally could not walk. I started to get fucking worried. I started to get emotional about not doing another lap. Here it was – about 11 P.M. and it appeared that I was done running. Mentally I was fine, but physically my body has had enough. And my body was telling me that I had done enough miles for this day. No fucking way. Did I not promise myself not to become a statistic of saying “done” between the hours of 6 P.M. and 2 A.M.?

I was literally hobbling around the start area. I was taking baby steps walking. I could not walk like a normal walk. Was this going to be it for me? I tried walking to my backpack near the tree. I tried walking around the tent. And then inside the tent I heard and saw a propane heater. That heat I felt was nice. I saw another chair, just like the one I was in and decided I will take a break. Perhaps all I need was a break. After all, as I kept thinking to myself this is not a race, but an event. I have 24 hours that I paid for.

Runners and pacers were in and out of the tent and near the heater. I was near the entrance of the tent and could feel the propane heat just enough to keep me warm, but I was getting cold from not running (moving) anymore. To me this was the perfect spot, not too close to the heater so I would not nod off to the warmth the heater provided and the cool air kept me awake.

Yet, as I was sitting there I was thinking about doing another lap. I just could not say I was done with 42 miles. I just fucking could not. Fuck no! My body was telling me that I should say no more, but mentally I started to think about 7 laps completed. How cool would that be to come to work and say that I ran 50 miles in Boulder?

No one talked to me, while I was sitting in that chair. Oh yes, they looked at me, but I could not look at them. As I just mentioned I had a decision to make. I had to get motivated.

11:45 P.M. I could not live with myself with only 42 miles completed and the time only being almost midnight. I fucking could not.

I got up. I would have to say sitting did not help at all, but I think it did. I started walking my baby steps around the tent and realized the night was not cold. I only made myself cold since I was in the tent with the propane heater and I had warm air around me. I have to say that I did loose up my tightness.

What got me moving was the time. I thought about the 7.14 mile loop and how much time I had left to complete just one more lap. I roughly had nine hours. Nine hours to complete one lap. Fucking enough time to do one more lap. I was not thinking like I was before like “oh I have 18 hours left.” I was thinking like “I only have 9 hours left. That’s all” Who knew that I would be thinking that way. I was now worried about how much time I had left to complete a lap as opposed to just how many hours I had left in the event.

Flashback – Between the times of 10:30 PM and Midnight I had to go use the Port-o-Potty. While I was on route, using the Port-o-Potty and then returning back to the warm tent, there was a runner heaving and throwing up in the dark near the Port-o-Potties. I could not see him in the dark nor did I actually want to see this runner throwing up. I felt this runner’s pain, but I was thankful that was not me throwing up. He threw up a lot and I could hear every splash of throw up splashing the ground. That sound still haunts one of my memories of the 24 Hours of Boulder.

Present - Just what the Fuck was I doing starting the 7th lap. “Fuck me” I hoarsely whispered out loud. “I can fucking do this!” I said this out loud, but barely above a whisper

And I saw another falling star burn-up right above me.

And the story continues…

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

24 Hours of Boulder - Running Under the Sun

Greetings Readers

I am getting choked up remembering the daylight portion of the 24 Hours of Boulder..

Seeing the sun travel across the Northern Hemisphere and to see my shadow on the ground move from West to East was unusual for me to see, Unusual meaning that I never paid attention to my shadow before. And I think that reason is that because I had run out of things to look at since the course was an out and back loop.

Readers – though I got to see a lot of things – I saw other runners, an all boys running team, an all girls running team, an all old men’s running team, walkers, dog walker, boats, jet skis, water skier, sculling, parachutes in the sky, trick plane flying, the Rocky Mountains, and the coming and going of a beautiful Rocky Mountain Sunset over Boulder Reservoir. The sky was filled with orange colors and seeing that orange being reflected on the water from the East side of the Reservoir was a sight to behold.

Running in the daytime I had no problems to worry about. The sun was out and apparently this was going to be a record temperature breaking day or a close to breaking the all time high temperature record. There was not a cloud in the sky and hardly a breeze blowing.

There is only so much I write about my daytime running. I enjoyed the day. I had nothing to worry about. Truly. I was concerned about the night and how I would do, but in the mean time I could not lose focus on running in the daylight.

The second lap started out good. I decided that this was the time to put the Ipod into use. 15 minutes later my Ipod locked up. Urgh! Un fucking believable!

Granted, I have not been using my Ipod during the past three months while running or cycling. I just have not. So, when the Ipod locked up I did say, “Fuck me” but then again I thought I still have my portable CD player I could use. Yet, I thought with the Ipod locking up after only 15 minutes of use that was a sign sent by the biking gods. I did take it that way and decided that the biking gods wanted to me run this event without music. So be it. One can never, ever ignore the biking gods. Retribution by the biking god is one thing that every biker should be wary of.

3rd Lap – I cannot remember anything of importance to mention. Yet, I can remember runners and volunteers commenting on my Southpark bike jersey. Or as one volunteer said “South pole” I could not correct her. I was happy just to touch other people with my Southpark bike jersey or have people comment on my Southpark bike jersey. It was a risky move on my behalf to wear this Southpark bike jersey that said “Stop your Bitchin’!,” but I wanted to be remembered in an event such as this. And I was Readers. I was not the fastest runner those 24 hours, but I am sure that everyone saw my Southpark bike jersey and for that I was happy to be recognized. Shallow – yes, but I fucking loved every minute someone said, “here’s that Southpark jersey guy.”

4th Lap – I remember thinking to myself – “Oh yeah, I will have completed 2 miles more than a marathon distance race. I fucking rock.” Though I was pushing 5 hours plus, but again the 24 Hours of Boulder was not a race. I also thought about my CD player in my backpack, but thought I really do not need the CD player. After all, I was doing ok, in my mind, without music. And the thought of the biking gods watching me and perhaps taking vengence out on later should I grab my CD player was something I was being careful. I don’t know. Sounds weird, but we all have rituals and no need to break rituals for the sakes of breaking them if you believe in one percent of your ritual.

5th Lap – The pain in my right foot was getting to be more painful to me. I had an idea what was going on in my new running shoes, but chose to ignore what I knew already.

Readers, all through out the out and back loop I heard runners give words of encouragement – “good job,” “way to go,” “keep it up,” “hi,” “hello,” “keep it up,” etc. I thought no ill will to anyone who said that to me. I responded to them, if I could or felt like I could, otherwise I just nodded my head or raised my hand in acknowledgement.

However, Readers there was one person – an older man, older than me that only raise his hand in acknowledgement to me and I in turned raised my hand in acknowledgement to him. To me that was perfect. He expected nothing more than a hand raise and that was nothing out of the way for me to do back to him. To me that was respect. He knew that more often than not gestures are more than just words. I hope some of you Readers are aware of that. If not, there are pearls of wisdom here. Sometimes just keeping quiet is best.

Back to the adventure of the event.

I have to admit that the 6th-fucking lap took its toll on me.

I started the 6th lap after 6:30 P.M. and I was in fucking pain. In my right foot the ball of my foot I had felt the start (or the formation) of a blister in the middle of my foot. I was worried, but mentally I was ready for the next lap.

After all, this was the time that I had to make sure that I was not going to fucking give up. At all. I knew that this was the time that the runners gave up (gave in) last year.

Before starting the 6th lap I heard that the “hot” meal was about ready, so with that in mind I decided to wait for the “hot “ meal to be ready.

Oh Readers, it was delicious. I was hungry, but I did not realize how much I was hungry. I had hot noodles with chicken and tomato sauce from a cup. The soup was oh so fucking good. Yes Readers, you know I mean that and I was fucking happy that I got a hot meal. I did not tear up, but I did get choked up. A hot meal at this point of the event was something special.

I have to say that was the best fucking meal that I had that day.

Flashback – 2:39 P.M. I said my first curse word. “Fuck me” I whispered to myself. Yes Readers, I whispered out loud and I fucking thought what the fuck did I get myself into? What the fuck? Am I fucking nuts?

My first curse word to myself took almost 6 hours to say, which I think is pretty good, but then again it fucking took me 6 hours to realize what fucking situation I put myself in.

Present – I changed into my night running gear. And that consisted of my Natalie Merchant stocking cap, two bandannas around my neck, my Adidas jacket, my jogging pants, my biking shorts, my fingerless gloves and my glasses. In addition, I grabbed my battery operated glow stick.

Oh Readers – I have to write about this and I am not ashamed. I was okay up to this point since I have completed 5 laps, which meant I have completed 35 miles officially. I was stiff, getting (was) tight, feeling pain, and walking funny. Going to the port-a-potty was an adventure in itself. I thought I might get stuck on the “plastic throne”, but I managed to pull / push myself to an upright position and then get moving.

As I was getting ready to change into my night running gear I had brought along and planned to get into my long stretch bike pants. However, remembering the past 9 hours of running and the times I had went to the port-a-potty or tried sitting on a fence I had some issues. With that in mind, there was no fucking way that I was going to try to change in a port-a-potty. No fucking way. And there was no fucking way that I was going to try and attempt to pull on those snug long cycling pants.

When I have to put on my snug long cycling pants I do have to sit down and pull my cycling pants over my feet and thighs and then pull here and there until the cycling pants look proper on me.

So, here I am. One hand on the tree that I put my backpack against and I am attempting to sit down. I could not. I was having a fucking problem just getting to the ground. I fucking hurt and any position I tried to attempt from a standing position was making me grimace in pain. I had to “man up”, clench my teeth and literally fall to the ground.

There I sat – whew – but I said, “Fuck it.” There was no way that I was going to attempt to put on my snug long cycling pants. I decided to put on my cycling shorts and then my warm up pants.

Easier said than done.

I put my adidas windbreaker over my lower body and then proceeded to take off my running shorts that I ran in the daytime. That was a chore, not to mention painful to take off. Eventually, I got the running shorts off and there I sat on the ground in my red briefs underwear, though covered up with my windbreaker. Oh yes, my modesty was not in jeopardy and in my current condition I could fucking care less who might be watching me attempting to change clothes. Matter of fact, if anyone was watching I am sure they got a smile or a laugh at my expense of trying to change in the open.

Putting on my short cycling shorts was fucking harder than I thought it was going to be. Though, I am glad that I did not even attempt to pull on my snug long cycling pants. I hurt every time I moved and pulled my cycling shorts on. After a few minutes I got that done and then it was “cake” to just pull on my jogging warm up pants over my cycling shorts.

I would have to say that the 6th lap was the beginning of me being completely destroyed on the out and back loop.

When I started the 6th lap I knew that I had done 35 miles and it was on record. But. It was only 35 miles. Just 35 miles. In reality, that was only 5 more miles than my P.B. (Personal Best) and P.R. (Personal Record). That was not enough. And the night was just starting.

With the lure of more miles on the course I decided to take advantage of what was being presented to me at that moment and with the remaining amount of time left I had – I had all the time in the world to do another 7.14-mile loop.

Little did I know that really did not help at all.

I struggled all throughout the 6th lap. How in the fuck was I going to manage a decent time?

And so the story continues into the darkness against the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains…

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

24 Hours of Boulder - Commencement

Greetings Readers

I was starting at the customary behind the main pack of runners, but I knew this time I was going to be in the back of the pack due to the nature of this event.

I did hope that I would have some, as my ex-co-worker would say, an “awesome” comeback from behind re-cap, but I knew that the beginning of my destiny was going to be just to survive the next 24 hours of my life.

I set and still hung onto the 1 hour and 20 minutes interval timer I set on my Ironman watch, since I saw that the one of the average lap time last year was 1:10 and that was during the rain that fell last year. With that in mind I was thinking that a 1 hour 20 minutes was a decent time to gauge myself against. And those 100 miles was attainable within 24 hours.

To begin - we runners had to do a small loop around the parking lot. I thought this was unusual, but then I thought this was done strictly for mileage. With that in mind I thought nothing more of it, except that we all had to run an extra 100 yards or so to run before actually checking in or to actually start the out and back of the 7.14 mile loop.

I had started perfect, in my mind; I enjoyed the beginning of the 24 hours of Boulder and made sure that I was keeping my pace. I had to remember that this was not a race. This was not a marathon. This was not going to be over in 5 hours. This was not something for me to try and be first or stage a come from behind moment.

Mentally, I had to remember I had 23 hours 58 minutes before the end of the 24 hours of Boulder. I also had to keep in mind that I was not going to fucking give up between the hours of 6:00 P.M. and 2:00 A.M. When I was doing my research of last year’s times I saw that most of the runners had given up between those hours of the day. I was determined not to be a statistic in that particular category I had defined for myself.

I did not introduce myself to anyone prior to the start of the 24 hours of Boulder nor did anyone introduce himself or herself to me. I was neither concerned about this nor worried about making “new” friends prior to the start of the 24 hours of Boulder. After all, I am proud to say and state for the record that I accomplish all events I do all by myself. I do not have a team player nor do I have someone to rely on. Yet, I do have my friends, co-workers and people I do not know hope, wish, pray and support me on my adventures of my athletic career.

I was not scared, but I was trembling prior to the start of the 24 hours of Boulder. After all, this was something entirely new to me and something that I have never done in my life. Theoretically, this was going to be a “walk in the park” since I did do all my research two weeks prior to the event. In my mind, the research is just another step in an event like this.

I think I ran in silence for about a mile until someone spoke to me. Before this I heard the talking among runners. To me, that was a waste of energy and breath. Something that I could not give up at the beginning of the 24 hours of Boulder. I made sure that I was not going to waste my energy talking to anyone. Yet, when that one runner made the effort to talk to me I was obliged to respond back. After all (I know Readers you are getting tired of the “After all” words, but that is all I can think of using), we had to be in each other’s company for the next 24 hours in Boulder, Colorado. I made small talk, but made sure that I was talking as least as possible and focusing on my breathing. I made sure that I was also paying attention to my pace as opposed to other runners around us.

However, I felt bad about this runner since he was sick. He was coughing and spitting and told me that he was sick, but there was nothing that I could say to comfort him.

Nor did the thought “It’s sucks to be you” as my old boss would say form on my lips. I had no right to think less of any of my fellow competitors in the 24 hours of Boulder. After all we all are there for the same reason and there should be no ill will to any fellow athlete. Or in the words of other people – There is no ill will to any fellow ultra-marathoner runners.

You Readers may be wondering, “Wow, did Mr. Charley say that he has no ill will?” Yes, I did. If I can compete with you or if you can compete with me then you have my most utmost respect. I know that may be hard to believe, but in any event that I deem “worthy” and you are there with me or I am there with you then I 100 % percent believe in both of us. I would never, ever wish you the worst, or fail. I am there to compete and “something” willing I will make sure that I make myself proud and I hope that you make yourself proud for doing something you thought you would never do.

I think, I was about two miles into the 24 hours of Boulder when I came to terms that I just paid $ 120.00 to run this event and this first lap was costing me $ 120.00 to run. Or from another point of view - I paid $ 120.00 to wear my number 322.

With that in mind I had to re-focus my thoughts on how many laps lay ahead and think on how many laps I had to do in order to make the $ 120.00 dollars I paid worth what I paid.

Flashback – “Certain Death” I heard this prior to the event and I was sort of worried what this meant. Was I going to be in danger on the course? Was this a joke? I did not know, but I did ask Julio if he heard this and he said yes since he competed in the 5230 tri earlier this year. Julio said to me “don’t worry. It is posted and you’ll see.”

Present - Well. I soon saw “certain death” and saw what it pertains to. And when I crossed the bridge over the canal there was no “certain death” present. Though I could see that early in the year that there could be “certain death” due to the spring snow melt in the Rocky Mountains.

Before reaching the canal of “certain death” I have to say the course was pretty level, with just a couple small ups and downs on the course. Yet, after the canal of “certain death” the terrain changed dramatically. The trail became smaller and there were some noticeable hills and rocks on the course.

Flashback 4 years ago – The Frozen Ass Trail Challenge – There were hills that were manageable the first lap, but after the first lap those hills became mountains and fucking sucked until I saw the last of them that January day at Chatfield Reservoir.

Present – I tried guessing where the turnaround point would be, but every time I turned the bend I could see the trail continuing on. I was getting a bit worried on how far 3.5 miles was from the start. There were only two stops on the racecourse – the start/finish line and the halfway point. Reid had mentioned at the start that the course was not marked for each mile.

Other than that we runners were on our own.

Halfway point. Finally. All runners were required to check in at the half waypoint. This was to make sure that everyone was running the full loop and not cheating. Yet. In this event there was no way that I could see that one could cheat. There was the boundary of the Boulder Reservoir, the Canal and then a barbed wire fence and the terrain.

In my mind, there was no way to cheat and I did not think that any one of runners would cheat in an event such as this. After all, this was 24 hours of our life that we are committing to the 24 hours of Boulder.

Once I started the second half of the loop this was the time to get serious. I knew the course and this was what going to define me as an Athlete, in my view.

Readers, I have to say that first lap was something very special, in my view. I was taking in something that I had no clue in what I had got myself into. I only dreamed and thought of what it might be like to compete in an event such as this.

I did “some” training prior to this event, but I knew that I did not do enough. Yet, that did not stop me from entering the event un-prepared. As I stated Readers, I was watching the weather forecast, but I was also making plans to run this event – regardless.

I had to prove that I could do this event to myself. I had nothing to prove to you Readers, unless you thought I did and for that I am truly sorry. I had to be honest and say that my soul was on the line and to retain my soul I had to make sure that I did this event and not use an excuse not to compete.

And the story continues…

P.S. The first picture on the blog post is the original newspaper article I saw and cut off to save for myself. Ever since then I have been looking forward to this event. And finally, I am able to share with you Readers - this is how I found out about the 24 Hours of Boulder and what got me interested in doing this event. I think the article is about three years old.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

The Beginning of 24 Hours of Boulder

Greetings Readers

“Extreme ways are back again
Extreme places I did not know...”
Extreme Ways

I was just recently introduced to this song, which was re-mixed by my one of my most favorite music artist these days – Tiesto. I loved the music of the song and the beat and the way the singer was singing the song, but what I failed to do was to really listen (pay attention) to were the lyrics.

Wow.

Flash forward - When I was starting my second lap I decided that this was the song I was going to start listening to on my Ipod. When I actually listened to the first two sentences of the song I could not believe that fit the current situation I was in. That summed up the 24 Hours of Boulder, for me anyway.

Back to present - Julio drove me up to Boulder, since I asked and offered to buy him gas and a 12 pack of Corona about three weeks ago.

We arrived about 8:30 in the morning, with about 30 minutes to start time and 15 minutes to the mandatory meeting. I asked to him to wait just in case they would not take cash, or I could not sign up or whatever. We walked over to the registration tent and got into line. A sort of long line, but not that long.

Soon, I was filling out the very, very simple form and paying $ 120.00 bones for day of registration. And then the race director, Reid, asked for a team name from me.

I look towards to Julio “Julio. I need a team name.”

“I don’t know.” He responds.

“Hmmm. Okay.” I look at Reid “Red hook Tyrant”

I smile to myself and think yes that is perfect. The name of my blog site is redhooktyrant.blogspot.com, which means Team Red Hook Tyrant fits perfect as my Team name.

And that was that. I was registered for the 24 hours of Boulder.

Julio and I walked back to his vehicle and then I got dressed and prepped for the event. I asked Julio for a couple of pre-pictures of me before the event.

Oh Readers, while I was putting on my bib race number on my running shorts I was shaking or trembling in my fingers. Not from the cool morning, but nervousness. I was truly nervous and just thought to myself there is no turning back now – I have paid and registered, therefore I have to compete in the 24 hours of Boulder.

I look at Julio “Julio. I am shaking”

He looks at me “It’s all right. Once you get running you be okay.” I knew that, but I was trembling from pure nervousness.

I decided perhaps I better open a can of Coca-Cola and drink the entire can in one long drink. I did and I felt a bit better.

While I was getting prepared I got a goodie bag after registering and decided now was the time to look and see what was in the bag. I saw what every runner like me wants to see. A shirt. Oh yes Readers it’s all about the shirt. There were some pamphlets, some hammergel stuff and couple of other things.

“Julio. Thank you very much for the ride this morning. I really appreciate it.”

Then, I told Julio that this other bag I brought along contained his 12 pack. Julio smiled and said thank you. I, of course said, no thank you.

I took my backpack and headed over to the grassy area that held a lot of the runner’s tents. Yes - tents. Apparently, that was pretty smart thinking for some of the people that were running and thinking or knew to bring a tent for this event. All I had was my backpack – not even the sleeping bag I had at my humble abode. I decided to put my backpack nearby a tree that was nearby the runner’s tent / resting tent. I sort of wished that I had a tent since I then would have a place to call my area, but then again would I be needing the use of a tent? I do not know.

We walked over to the start line and then waited. Soon, the mandatory meeting started and Reid explains the course, what’s at the start line, what’s at the half way point, what’s going to be provided and are there any questions.

“Alright runners – two minutes to the start”

I was ready as I was ever going to be. I had my Southpark Jersey on, my U.S. Open Bandanna on, my running shorts and my Ipod in my hand. Note Readers, I wanted to hear everything before putting any earphones in my ears. I did not want to miss a word nor miss any directions on the course since I did not know the course. I had no fucking clue of the event route, except that it is an out and back route. No loop route this year.

I think this was due to night running on the dirt road that was going to be used. I think the road gets fairly busy at night, especially on a Saturday night and with me thinking Boulder, college kids, drinking, CU Boulder football game; there could be a good possibility of a drunk driver on the dirt road near the Boulder Reservoir.

I did mind, but I also did not mind since I did not want to run in the dark with a glow stick and the possibility of a drunk driver driving ahead or behind me and hitting me – A hit and run. I was glad to be running on the trails and would overlook the running on the out and back route, which in every runner’s mind is not the best thing – at all.

“Runners. Make sure you start running out towards the front gate on the road and then loop around to this area.”

I told Julio that was a weird way to start and he nodded in agreement.

Just prior to starting I could not help to think that today was the perfect day. A perfect day to run in the 24 hours of Boulder. It was pretty to see the hot air balloon rising in the morning prior to the start of the 24 Hours of boulder. After all, last year at this almost exact same time, I followed the weather forecast and saw that rain was predicted to start falling on Saturday and continue throughout the day until Sunday. A year ago, that was something that I did not want to do. I did not want to be miserable and wet for a 24-hour event. Rain in October can chill you to the bone and not to mention make the air so much colder.

So, a week prior to this year’s 24 hours of Boulder I watched and listened to the prediction of any fronts, the jet stream and any high / low pressures. I was really counting on the weather to make or break me on whether or not I would do this event. Actually, this was a done deal unless snow / sleet was forecast then I was going to say, “Fuck that.”

Needless to say, a high pressure was going to be stationary over Colorado and hold the jet stream from Colorado – whew. I was happy, but that also meant that I had to compete in the event. I did fucking used the weather (rain) excuse as an excuse not to compete in the event last year, so to use that excuse again was a “shit” thing to use again. In my view, I told everyone that if it did not rain I was going to run in the event. And when I say something like that I mean that. When I say something, most of the time; I will follow through – no bullshit.

The ten-second countdown starts

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…”

I synchronized both of my watches – the G–Shock and Ironman watches

“Five, four, three, two….”

And for that one second I thought to myself – this is it. I have something to prove to myself. I also had something to make up for. I had to make sure that I give a nod to the biking gods. I had to be sure that this was an event and not a race. I had to be focused. I have 24 hours until the end of my destiny, or in my mind immortality.

“…One…”

And for one second more I have subconsciously yearned for a challenge, an event, such as this to further test my athletic abilities.

“Go!”

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

T-minus Zero - Go for Launch

Greetings Readers

If this post has posted then I am off on my event - see you soon.

The

24 hours of Boulder

has begun

Until the next time

The Fallen Athlete
Daryl Charley

My Gear for the 24 Hours of Boulder

Greetings Readers

I am nervous, but I am ready for the 24 hours of Boulder.

As you can perhaps see from the blog picture I have gathered most of the stuff that I think that I will need for the 24 hours of Boulder. I know what I think I should bring, use and think to bring, but in reality I do not have a f-ing clue on what to bring or what I need to bring to this event.

Yes, there will be food provided, as well as drinks, snacks and the things normally stocked at any event, but what if it stuff that I do not want to eat.

For example - Hammer gel. I hate that stuff. And to think that this is the major sponsor of the 24 hours of Boulder. That is not going to work for me - at all. So, thankfully I am able to use the rest of my Orange GU from this year. I also bought some Marathon Bars which I think are delicious (in a manner of speaking) and do well for me for energy recovery during any event I need an energy bar.

I am bringing four Bandannas (ZZ Top, 2 Jack Daniels & US Open bandannas), the digital camera, two sets of lens, my Natalie Merchant stocking cap, a Corona cap, band aids, Neosporin, body glide, another watch (Ironman), a blinking light (Corona made), my CD player, my I-pod, 2 battery operated glow/light sticks, fingerless and full fingered gloves.

In addition, I am bringing 4 pairs of white athletic socks, the infamous Southpark Bike Jersey, the Nautica pull over, long leg bike pants, short bike shorts, and my Snowman Stampede shirt and the new shoes.

I think, I have covered everything.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

It's Gotta be the Shoes!

Greetings Readers

Up to this point I have two pairs of really, really and I mean really broken pair of running shoes. I did buy some specially made shoes for marathons which I have specifically used for Marathons and short running events. I did not figure that my special Marathon shoes would be adequate for the 24 Hours of Boulder.

With that in mind, I decided that I needed to invest in a new pair of shoes. After work I headed over to Park Meadows and went to the Finish Line store. I got a deal - the shoe was discounted $ 10.00 dollars and then another $ 15.00 dollars was knocked off the price when I paid for the shoe. All in all I think I got a great deal on a new pair of running shoes.

They look great, even though I wanted another color, but that was unavailable. Now, I only have 48 hours to break in the new shoes. This is not good, but there was no other choice that I could do. I could not even think about using the old pairs of running shoes. They have been destroyed by me, but I do wear when riding the road bike with bike clips.

I could not wear the Marathon shoes, since... well I couldn't. They are snug fitting, to me, and I felt that might not be a good thing for me on a 24 hour event of running.

Only time will tell now

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

Shrugging My Shoulders

Greetings Readers

My friend, Julio, was the one that went to Texas to compete in the Ironman Austin a couple of weeks ago.

Julio finally came back from his time off and we finally got together yesterday.

I showed him my Ironman Arizona stuff that I had from my event in 2005 and then I also showed him all the stuff that I kept from that one week I spent in Tempe, Arizona.

I never realized how much stuff I collected, but I did collect a few things. I showed him the card that most of the people I worked with at my last consulting job made for me. I am pretty damn proud of that card. I also showed him my swimming cap, numbers, wristband, newspapers, registration materials, pamphlets, and a bit of this and that.

Julio told me about his event, the weather Austin, and more important how he did in the Half Longhorn Ironman in Austin, TX. Overall, it was good to hear from another person about their Ironman experience.

I was planning to take a picture of Julio and his medal, but he is camera shy so I just took a picture of his finishing medal. Very pretty. I am very proud of him. He kicked ass on the swimming, did okay on the biking (though he did not have an odometer due to forgetting) and the run... well he had some issues, but he made the finish line.

Changing subjects

This morning I needed to take the bus RTD. There I was, the only one, waiting at the bus stop in the early morning cold and in an area where the morning sun won't hit until later in the morning.

I have no clue how much time, or even what time, since I did not put on my G-Shock watch this morning. I am waiting and just looking here and there, pacing up and down the bus stop area.

Then, I see another bus commuter walking to the bus stop where I was at. He stopped a few yards away from the bus stop and pulled out a camera (or camera phone) and then took a few picture (s?) of the moon in the western part of the sky. After that he walked a bit closer to the bus stop and then stopped. He put away the camera and then pulls out an I-pod.(or something similar)

Readers, I was only glancing here and there, but not paying attention to what he was doing. I was minding my own business. I don't bother him and he does not bother me.

I would estimate it has been a few to five minutes since he showed up. Meanwhile, it has been a longer wait for me. No complaints from me - I just waiting until I see the bus coming. I turned my back to that one guy.

"Excuse me?"

I ignore this sentence and keep my back to him.

"Excuse me?" And yes Readers he said this politely.

I turn and look at him.

"How long have you been waiting?"

I clearly shrug my shoulders in the "I don't know" motion while looking at him, directly in the eyes. I did not say a word since I did not want to say a word. I was in the "I don't want to talk" mood or what I often refer to "Don't fuck with me" mood.

"Excuse me, how long have you been waiting?"

I once again shrug my shoulders in the "I don't know" motion with an indifferent look on my face.

"Can you hear me?" he asks questioningly.

I look at him and shrug my shoulders for a third time and clearly say "Can you not see that I shrugged my shoulders indicating to you that I do not know." I did not yell, nor I say it in a questioning manner. I clearly said that sentence as a statement.

"You don't know how long you have been waiting?" he responds

Readers, In truth I did not know. I was not wearing my G-shock, I did not look at the clock on the wall when I left my humble abode. I only knew that bus comes almost every 30 minutes and whether or not I was going to get to the bus stop at the end of the 30 minutes or the beginning I knew I had that amount of time of leeway of waiting for the bus to come to that particular bus stop.

Now, I was pissed off since I had to actually speak to this guy, when I clearly shrugged my shoulders in the "I don't know" manner. Now, he had the balls to question me that I do not know how long I have been waiting.

1. First and foremost - It is none of his business how long I have been waiting for the bus.
2. I was not going to explain myself to this person.
3. I made sure that I responded to him, instead of just ignoring him for which I have should have done in the first place.
4. I did not raise, shout or yell at him for bothering me. I responded coldly to him, but indifferently. And definitely with no smile on my face.

I respond to him cold and softly "Just leave me alone."

And with that he looked at me and then headed to the other side of the bus stop and that was that.

I knew that I should have biked up to the store as opposed to waiting for bus this morning.

Yet, in truth Readers, I had a smile growing inside me and that was because I probably made him mad for how I responded to him. His misery was my Happiness.

Let me tell you Readers, I pretty warm biking to work after my visit to the Grocery store this morning. Someone Else's misery this morning warmed me up a bunch degrees and the 37 degree weather did not feel 37 degrees. Matter of fact I was so warm I bought another box of Ice Cream bars for storing at work.

Was I rude? I do not think so. I know he was rude for asking me that "you don't know how long you have been waiting?" question.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

T-Minus 4 Days and Counting

Greetings Readers

That's all there is left for my destiny - four days and change left until the 24 hour run (event) in Boulder. I have been checking the weather, watching T.V., listening to the radio, Cable, etc. and the forecast looks good. Very good. Sun and low 70's. - yet cold enough at night to make my nipples hard - hard enough to cut glass.

Let me hope for a good prediction from all avenues. After all, I was miserable this past weekend when I was trying to avoid the rain. I also hated going outside since this was the first true test of cold weather this Autumn. And believe me I had 90 percent decided if there is rain I am not going to the event. That's how I was feeling this past weekend. I was cold, and I have not been this cold in a while.

Now, I see prediction of sunny and clear skies. Good. Yet, I am thinking too much. Or think too little. Thinking about Qdoba girl. Thinking about life.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

It's On Like Donkey Kong

Greetings Readers

And so goes the story… This did not dawn on me until I got home and was getting ready to eat my dinner at my dining table. And that was when I thought about what I just did not do and hung my head after acknowledging what I just did. Meaning – I just could not fucking believe that I just what I did

I said, “Have a nice trip” and waved goodbye to Debbie and then walked out the store with me high on Cloud 9. I was walking an inch or two taller. I felt very good about seeing Debbie again. I was happy. I walked my bike slowly in front of the Front windows in case Debbie was looking out the front windows. I did not look into the windows to see if I could see Debbie again. I got on my bike and rode home.

Perfect right? Not.

Flashback – About three years when I first saw and got to know Debbie at the other store I remember going to that Qdoba’s and then taking my lunch to the front window where there are seats facing outwards. You know how they have that bar type tables and stools at the front window. So, I often did eat my lunch at the front window and watch the world go by while I enjoyed my lunch. Every now and then I would see Debbie come by and wipe down the areas around where I was eating and also wipe down the stools. Sometimes we chatted or made small remarks to each other. It was kind of our thing. She got to see me more and I too got to see her more and alone. As opposed to her co-workers next to her and me worrying about saying something dumb in front of her and her co-workers. I remembered her Pink belt she wore and somehow that belt made her look good.

Also, since I did not know her name I had to refer to her as the girl who wears the Pink belt

Back to the present, there I was sitting at my dining room table with my head bowed just realizing how I just missed another opportunity to talk/see Debbie again. Why in the fuck did I not eat at Qdoba’s?! Gosh darn I feel like George Costanza – Lord of the Idiots. I am pretty sure that she would have come over to wherever I would be sitting and visit me. I just know it. Somehow I forgot that I/we had chatted in the past when an opportunity presented itself to do so.

I would have to say it was a perfect moment. It was after 5:00 P.M. on a Friday and the place was not busy, yet. Debbie and two other people were manning the front counter; meanwhile there were the cooks who were busy cooking. And the there were two or three employees that looked like they were taking a break so that probably means they were not busy yet and perhaps more could have happened if I would have taken a seat in the dining table in Qdoba’s.

Hindsight. I know this, but seeing Debbie and more than I ever expected to see I just was not thinking. I know Readers – “What’s new.” Right?

Changing Subjects – I won a bet. The Amazing Race bet that I and my friend do every time a new season of Amazing Race starts. The week we do not bet since we have to get introduced to the team and see how they act and interact.

The second week we usually start betting, however we missed doing the betting the second week so we had to bet on Friday to see which team was going to get eliminated.

Since it was initial betting we had to do the coin toss to see who chooses first. I lost and that meant my friend chose first and picked the team who I was going to pick – the southern blonde belles. I did not have another team in mind and I only recorded the first two episodes without watching the episodes.

Readers, I have been in mood lately and I just was not in the mood to watch the Amazing Race. So, I had no idea how the teams were or acted. I did watch the first ten minutes of the first episode where each team is introduced and a brief summary about them is mentioned.

With that in mind I remember seeing the gaming “Geeks.” They coined themselves “Geeks” not me. I remember them talking about how they loved game and puzzles and then of course I saw them playing Guitar Hero. I laughed, but I was laughing at the Guitar Hero and I think I remember them saying they were a force to watch out for.

So, when my friend chose the Southern Belles I decided I am going to choose the Geeks. And this is only because they were so confident about themselves and they referred to themselves as Geeks. With that I knew that confidence about being “gaming Gods” I knew they were going to get eliminated.

Sunday evening about 15 minutes into the show I knew that I had won the bet. I cheered and “Oh yeah” and then when I came in Monday morning – there was my winnings – A Bottle of Coca-Cola.

The sweet taste of victory

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

Qdoba girl on a Friday

Greetings Readers

After a long day and a long week I was able to leave work a bit early on Friday.

With that in mind I decided to go to the liquor store and then make a visit to Qdoba’s.

Though I was getting tired of going to Qdoba’s almost every three days since seeing Debbie again. To tell you the truth this is costing me some money, but do not get me wrong Readers - Debbie is worth every cent I have spent at Qdoba’s since seeing her. Matter of fact, I have no problem spending the money at Qdoba’s, but without seeing Debbie I am not getting any return on my spending my hard earned cash as Qdoba’s.

I have bought Ground sirloin burritos, steak burritos, 3 tacos and many chips and salsa since seeing Debbie. But since seeing Debbie I have not seen her. And now I think that the people that I know at my Qdoba’s probably think I have fucking flipped out for Qdoba’s.

Though something tells me that all those people know at Qdoba’s know I am trying to see Debbie since I see a smile and a sort of a “too bad Debbie is not here” look. Not a pity look, but just a too bad look. I could just go into Qdoba’s look and see if Debbie is there, but that is not my nature to just look and leave without purchasing something.

Anyway, I have been trying to finish the food I have been buying at my Qdoba’s I frequent, but more often than not I eat half and then throw the rest away. I know that goes against my nature of wasting food, but I am getting tired of eating Qdoba’s week after week.

Friday, I go into Qdoba’s and see that it is hardly busy at quitin’ time – about 5:00 P.M.
And then I see her – Debbie. Helping a customer and then she looks directly at me and sees that it is me. I try to casually walk up to the line without looking again at her. Yet, out of the corner of my eye I see her glancing at me - twice. I made no move to notice her looking at me.

Oh Readers – Debbie looked good. Hair tied back in a nice pony tail, a dark blue polo shirt and just looking oh so fucking beautiful, to me in my humble opinion.

Since she was helping a customer in front of me I had another employee help me that I knew from previous visits. I am not sure if I played what I was doing right, but I made sure not to look at Debbie until she came over/acknowledge me. I was giving my order to the other person helping me when I can see out of the corner of my eye that Debbie went to the back of the store. I was kind of worried that she took off from the front of the store. Then, about 20 seconds later…

“Hi, How are you?” she asks me in her sweet voice.

I look at her head on and say “good, good”

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

I say, “I know”

She asks “Anything else?”

“Chips and salsa – Hot” and then I ask, “How are you?”

She immediately replies “Busy. My sister is getting married this weekend. You know her. She stills works at the other store on #########.”

Meanwhile, I look directly into her eyes when she looks at me while talking about this and then she is the one to break eye contact.

“And then I have to go to training next week.”

“Really? Where?”

Readers forgive me. She leaned over to get my chips underneath the tabletop and she showed me her deep cleavage that was showing through the open top of her polo shirt. Wow. I know that this is shallow, but I could not stop looking down at her cleavage. Was this on purpose? Did she go back into the back of the store to un-button her shirt since she knew that I was going to order chips and salsa? In her way, was this flirting? Or did I get a view by luck? I do not know. I am not really a breast person (meaning that is a number one thing I look for in women), but what I sort of saw I was in trance. The bra underneath her polo shirt did her justice on her cleavage that I saw from across her. I know it was only 15 seconds or so, but I felt that I was looking for a long time. I noticed that dark freckle on her left breast.

She eventually came back up and I looked at her directly in the eyes without giving away that I was looking down her polo shirt. Or did Debbie know that I was looking down her shirt? Did she plan this view for me?

“Where?” I ask once more.

She responded “Delaware”, I think she said this Readers, since I was not really listening. I know I was staring and I can still remember what I saw and not what she actually answered when I asked my question of her.

“Wow. How long?"

“For a few days.”

“You’re that important?” I say while looking directly into her eyes.

“What?”

“You’re that important? I ask and see her eyes widen. And yes Readers, I noticed her beautiful eyes staring back into my eyes.

“I guess so” she smiles and then takes my money.

Unfortunately, I cannot remember what was said next so we have to skip to later…

“I will see you next time.” She says

At this point I decided to play a bit coy “You will?”

“Well…” she starts saying and then we look directly at each other “I guess that will depend on you” and she drops her eyes from my gaze "Since it is up to you to come and see me again” with a smile on her face, but still not looking at me.

Oh yeah I though to myself. Debbie has to be interested in me.

She gives me my change and then I lean in and look directly at her “Debbie right?”

She smiles pretty big “Ah, you remembered”

I say to her “I’m Daryl”

And then I say have a nice trip and wave good-bye to her.

Oh Readers, this will make my fucking weekend. Nothing can top that encounter this weekend. This made Debbie that much more desirable to me and I think that she was giving me the signs to ask her out. I hope.

Update 10/12/08 – I looked for the post-it note that I had written my name and phone number, but I had forgotten that I had gave that to my friend I saw at the liquor store the previous week. And I never replaced that missing post-it note. And the thing is that I do not know my own telephone number. I have too many fucking passwords to remember and there is only so much that my mind can care to remember. During this encounter I did look for the post-it note in my wallet and then remembered I gave it away to my friend I had not seen in over two years last week. And obviously I could not write my phone number from memory so I could not give her my number. I know, I know, I am an idiot for not knowing my phone number.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete