When Health Becomes the Sickness

The marriage vows go something like this: “...in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy…”

Simple right?

Good and bad – black and white – happiness and sadness.

Not so fast.

When Mike, fell sick at the beginning of this year, I was challenged in many ways. It was time to step up and care for him through the sickness that was spoken about three and a half years earlier. I could do that – I am a very caring person (maybe too much) and had a great model in my mother of someone who dropped everything when a person she loved was in need.

The sickness dragged longer than anticipated, but Mike and I worked through it. My patience was definitely tested – as was his. On April 10th, our fourth wedding anniversary, the tube was removed from his arm and we were excited to be moving beyond this crisis stronger and closer than ever. The challenges of 2009 were behind us.

The best laid plans, perhaps.

While sick, Mike, an avid runner who has completed multiple marathons, saw an ad for The North Face Endurance Challenge – a 50-mile trail run in Virginia. He set his sights on this goal and never looked back. He was going to train to run 50 miles from literally zero. It’s all chronicled on his blog aptly named 0-50.

Though nervous about this endeavor coming so close on the heels of his sickness, I supported him knowing it would give him something positive to focus on after months of pain and suffering. I had no doubt that he would be able to complete this task, yet I was still worried that it was too much too soon.

In the midst of all the training, Mike asked if I would pace him for the last 15 miles of the race. I hesitated because I am a much slower runner and I had never run that far before – 13.1 was my max. I even tried to get others to help out, but it just didn’t work out. So I, too, trained to run with him for the last leg of his endeavor.

Fast forward five months: The race quickly approached. We were as prepared as we could be to run and had a great support team in place. The day before the race we scoped out the aid station where Liz, Alex and I would set up to see Mike at four different points throughout the race. It was also where I would join him for the last 15 miles.

Bad idea.

The terrain was more difficult than what we trained on and I began to get a little nervous about the day to come. Mike and I both must have been thinking similar thoughts because neither one of us was able to sleep the night before. I think the max amount of sleep either one of us got was two hours.

And they’re off.

The race began with a beautiful light show as the head-lamped runners trotted along in the dark. It looked like pixies or fireflies had taken over the park. When the pixies left, Liz, Alex and I headed to our support destination. Settled and cold, we waited in the dark for the runners to appear. An hour or so after sunrise, Mike appeared (after many false alarms of other runners wearing red shirts – go figure). He looked OK – tired, but OK.

After a quick refuel he started loop one – the first of three on tortuous terrain. Before Mike returned, a couple of runners appeared with bloody/bruised legs from falling – one even had his face scraped up from a fall. A helicopter also appeared to be landing in aid of someone. I looked closely at the EMT guys in front of us to see if any news was coming through the radio – nothing, whew.

Mike appeared after loop one still looking OK – tired and a little shocked at how hard the terrain really was – and without visible scars. He fueled up again and was off. The next two loops were about the same, except Mike had then befriended a Marine who was running with him. I turned to Alex at one point and noted how a Marine is probably the best person you can befriend on a run like this – they don’t leave people behind.

My turn.

After Mike left for loop three, I began to anticipate and prepare for my entry into this race. I was nervous, but optimistic about being able to get him, and now Chris (the Marine) through the remainder of the race. They returned from loop three, Mike changed shoes, fueled up some more and we were off.

We got no more than 100 feet and I tripped on a rock and fell – great job pacer! I jumped up wiped off my scratches and moved along. A mile later – boom – another fall – bad pacer! This one knocked me a bit and got a little dizzy getting up. No worries, I was determined to get these guys across the finish line.

As we continued, we picked up another runner, Michelle, who was also struggling to finish. I was feeling pretty fresh and so tried my best to get the morale of the group up. The arduous terrain and the 50-milers’understanding of what to come next proved to be a challenge. They knew the course from the morning and were anxiously anticipating the next mountain they had to climb and river they had to run over – literally, we were walking over tree branches to cross streams.

At one point in the first 6.2 miles of my pacing, I was at the head of the pack and looked back to Mike, who was struggling behind. He was hurting – he was having a really hard time and I could see it. I knew there was no turning back, so I trekked forward in the hopes we were nearing the first aid station of my portion of the race. After a challenging hike up a hill, I looked back again.

My heart sank.

Mike looked sick – his face was gaunt and tired – he had dark circles under his eyes, which looked out completely of it. I slowed down and went beside him to keep pace with him. The truth was there wasn’t anything I could do for him at that point, but I just wanted to stay with him. Thankfully the aid station was close by.

We refueled and Mike told the Michelle and Chris to go ahead. They had both drank some Mountain Dew and so were much peppier than Mike. Chris, of course, said no – “Mike and I are crossing that finish line together.” I was happy we met the Marine – it was exactly what Mike needed.

We trekked on with our partners in crime ahead of us, but always stopping to allow us time to catch up. Mike was totally beat at this point, but I knew he would finish. There were a few more hills to climb and then an aid station. Again the doubt of the 50-milers set in. “Focus on the aid station,” I said. “We have two hills, a valley and then the aid station.”

It worked.

We got to the next aid station and were 5.6 miles away from the finish. There was no way we weren’t going to make it on time. The excitement got the better of us and we completed the next three miles in less than 30 minutes. (Trust me that’s fast for people who ran 45 miles before that point.) Only 1.6 miles to go and we were home free. We power-walked much of the remaining distance. At about 100 yards, we started to run. I took a step back and let the three 50-milers cross the finish line at the same time.

Success.