While training for Dances with Dirt last spring I ran into my buddy Greg out at Oak Mt. At the time Greg was training for a 50k, which seemed insane considering he had never even run a 5k. Upon finishing that race Greg decided he needed a new challenge. He had other motives as well- his daughter's good friend was battling leukemia. He decided to run the Pinhoti 100, a 100 mile trail run from Anniston, AL to Sylacauga, AL to raise money for an undeniably good cause. Late in the summer Greg asked if I would pace him for a portion of the run. I agreed to ten miles.
Two weeks before his race Greg told me another pacer backed out. He was down to 2 pacers. His other pacer was flying in from SC and hadn't run in three months. Could I run 20 miles with him? That was debatable, but I couldn't say no so I bought a head lamp and planned for another camp out in the woods.
My section of the race started at 4pm. I met Greg at Mile 40 after he made it to the top of Mt. Cheaha, no small task since this is the highest peak in Alabama. We started down a trail called "Blue Hell". Hell it was. Boulder hopping, few directional signs, and legs quivering we maintained a slow and steady pace. We reached the first aid station in record speed and took off down a mostly paved road. About this time it started getting dark. Greg was slowing down. His warm clothes were at Mile 55, a problem because it was already down to 35 degrees and we were both cold. We veered off the road back onto a thin trail. A guy from Nebraska joined us at this point, both he and Greg tired but in good spirits. I kept them entertained as we ran down the trail, asking questions and telling stories to pass the time. As we ran deeper into the woods our time slowed and every so often a new runner would fall into line behind us, thankful for a fresh leader to find the way so they could continue plodding on. One man passed us who was in great shape but only wearing short running shorts and a dry fit t-shirt. Not too far down the trail I spotted him wandering in the woods off the course and made him get in line with us. At Mile 55 both Greg and I had reached the longest distances we had ever run. He had 50 more miles to go. Both slightly delirious and hypothermic, Greg lost a glove while changing. It cost us several minutes of hunting but we found it and took off. By this point his phone was chiming every few minutes with people checking on our progress. We still had 5 miles to go until we met his next pacer and we were behind by 25 minutes. At this point I could barely keep Greg running. He refused to eat every time we passed an aid station, only stuffing the occasional peanut butter sandwhich in the pocket of his cargo shorts to shut me up. Having only worn thin running pants and a light running jacket I was freezing and just wanted to keep moving. We finally heard voices down the road and stumbled into Mile 60 where I had a Dr. Pepper in the trunk for Greg and a Budlight for me. It was so cold that Greg's contact lens fell out of his eye. The only option was for me to stick it back in because Greg's hands were trembling so badly he couldn't physically do it himself. Later he told me it lasted about ten more miles. By the end of the race he had lost both contacts and was running nearly blind. Back at the aid station the man I pulled back onto the course earlier was not doing well. He had made it to the checkpoint, but was incoherent and put into a tent with a warming heater. An older man and his son in law ran into the clearing as I was getting into my car. They pleaded for me to take them back to their own car, declaring the race just too hard and too cold. It was 11:30pm and had taken me and Greg 7 hours to run just over 20 miles. I had no idea how he was going to finish the race in time.
The next day Greg told me that he started seeing lights and hearing voices at Mile 80. At Mile 85 his pacer pulled him, telling him that to continue running was too risky and he could seriously hurt himself. As his pacer looked for a race official Greg took off down the trail, weaving back and forth barely able to stand. He passed the sweeper, who could only look at him in disbelief, and kept going. He made it to the stadium with just minutes to spare. The little girl he was running for as well as his own daughter met him and ran with him the last quarter mile around the track to the finish line. He told me it was one of those moments that stays burned into your memory forever. I'm not sure either one of us would say it was fun, but it was an experience neither one of us will ever forget!
Two weeks before his race Greg told me another pacer backed out. He was down to 2 pacers. His other pacer was flying in from SC and hadn't run in three months. Could I run 20 miles with him? That was debatable, but I couldn't say no so I bought a head lamp and planned for another camp out in the woods.
My section of the race started at 4pm. I met Greg at Mile 40 after he made it to the top of Mt. Cheaha, no small task since this is the highest peak in Alabama. We started down a trail called "Blue Hell". Hell it was. Boulder hopping, few directional signs, and legs quivering we maintained a slow and steady pace. We reached the first aid station in record speed and took off down a mostly paved road. About this time it started getting dark. Greg was slowing down. His warm clothes were at Mile 55, a problem because it was already down to 35 degrees and we were both cold. We veered off the road back onto a thin trail. A guy from Nebraska joined us at this point, both he and Greg tired but in good spirits. I kept them entertained as we ran down the trail, asking questions and telling stories to pass the time. As we ran deeper into the woods our time slowed and every so often a new runner would fall into line behind us, thankful for a fresh leader to find the way so they could continue plodding on. One man passed us who was in great shape but only wearing short running shorts and a dry fit t-shirt. Not too far down the trail I spotted him wandering in the woods off the course and made him get in line with us. At Mile 55 both Greg and I had reached the longest distances we had ever run. He had 50 more miles to go. Both slightly delirious and hypothermic, Greg lost a glove while changing. It cost us several minutes of hunting but we found it and took off. By this point his phone was chiming every few minutes with people checking on our progress. We still had 5 miles to go until we met his next pacer and we were behind by 25 minutes. At this point I could barely keep Greg running. He refused to eat every time we passed an aid station, only stuffing the occasional peanut butter sandwhich in the pocket of his cargo shorts to shut me up. Having only worn thin running pants and a light running jacket I was freezing and just wanted to keep moving. We finally heard voices down the road and stumbled into Mile 60 where I had a Dr. Pepper in the trunk for Greg and a Budlight for me. It was so cold that Greg's contact lens fell out of his eye. The only option was for me to stick it back in because Greg's hands were trembling so badly he couldn't physically do it himself. Later he told me it lasted about ten more miles. By the end of the race he had lost both contacts and was running nearly blind. Back at the aid station the man I pulled back onto the course earlier was not doing well. He had made it to the checkpoint, but was incoherent and put into a tent with a warming heater. An older man and his son in law ran into the clearing as I was getting into my car. They pleaded for me to take them back to their own car, declaring the race just too hard and too cold. It was 11:30pm and had taken me and Greg 7 hours to run just over 20 miles. I had no idea how he was going to finish the race in time.
The next day Greg told me that he started seeing lights and hearing voices at Mile 80. At Mile 85 his pacer pulled him, telling him that to continue running was too risky and he could seriously hurt himself. As his pacer looked for a race official Greg took off down the trail, weaving back and forth barely able to stand. He passed the sweeper, who could only look at him in disbelief, and kept going. He made it to the stadium with just minutes to spare. The little girl he was running for as well as his own daughter met him and ran with him the last quarter mile around the track to the finish line. He told me it was one of those moments that stays burned into your memory forever. I'm not sure either one of us would say it was fun, but it was an experience neither one of us will ever forget!
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