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
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
No comments:
Post a Comment