A Walk in the Woods

Snippets overheard in the van on the way to the trailhead:

"I'm a runner! I do marathons; run about 21 miles a day; this is my first long hike though."

From another of my future trail mates: "Yeah, I run marathons. Run a lot of 10 milers. I've run a few duathlons, a few tri's."

"Really, if you're going to run a marathon and you don't care about time, the Marine Corps Marathon is the one to do. I had so much fun doing that marathon!"

Or, "This'll be much easier than a ruck march--that's for sure!"

Betsy and I look at each other. All I can think is, they've done so many triathlons, they just call them 'tri's' now?!? If I EVER did a triathlon, I would slowly sound it out to everyone--family, friends, perfect strangers, doesn't matter. I would name drop it into every conversation. "Sir, it looks like your house is on fire! If I were you, I'd run to the fire station as fast as I ran that TRI-ATH-A-LON 10 years ago!! Did I mention I did a TRI-ATH-A-LON??"

And all Betsy can think is, will there be ladies' bathrooms every few miles on this hike? Do you think their toilet paper will be 2-ply? I've grown quite fond of 3-ply. Can I regress back to just 2-ply??

Clearly, we were prepared for the challenge.

Guilty admission: I didn't hike 60 miles in 24 hours. Did I ever think I could do it? Yeah, secretly, I hoped I'd go all the way. But that was a pipe dream. It became readily apparent during the first 10-mile stretch. No, actually it was pretty obvious during that van ride to the trail.

Let me back up a bit. As I explained in a previous post, another Academy grad I met (Jeff) invited me to take part in a hike to raise money for Team Racing 4 Veterans and Crossfit Walter Reed. 

Jeff and me. Jeff's a badass. Me...not so much.

This was not the type of meandering, stop-every-20-minutes-to-get-a-picture hikes I was used to. The '60-Mile Challenge' is to trek 60 miles in 24 hours. This is non-stop hiking. Noon to noon. My Aunt still didn't quite get it the morning we left her house for the trailhead. 

"Did you bring sleeping bags?" she queried.

"No, Aunt Susan," Betsy gently responded, "we won't be sleeping."

Her mouth dropped open; her face utterly perplexed. "What will you be doing tonight?"

"We'll be walking," I said, "from 12 o'clock today to 12 o'clock tomorrow. 60 miles. Walking."

Yep, even then I thought I'd be doing the whole thing. 

From my Aunt's home in Arlington, Virginia, Betsy and I drove to Frederick, Maryland, and met up with the rest of the group taking part in the challenge. From there, we loaded our packs into a 15 passenger van and rode to the trailhead, outside Winchester, Virginia. 

Who packed the most stuff into the van? That would be Betsy and I. We brought three overflowing backpacks, my suction bag, and my hard suitcase with my blender in it. Don't laugh. Yes, I brought my large blender out to the woods. We were supposed to get an awesome, catered lunch at the end of the hike, and I was told I might have access to an outlet. So, it's not as stupid as it sounds. But it still looked like we were packing for a week-long stay in a cabin while everyone else had small Camelback's.

It was a perfect day to start the hike. Clouds still hanging on; nice and cool; not the heat and humidity I've got here in the Tennessee Valley. We drove up a long dirt road to get to the trail, which is always nice because it meant I would start off going downhill. Betsy fed me a Real Food Blend before I started, we took some pictures, I dumped out the 3 liters of Jagermeister I had in my pack ("But you said to bring 'fluids'!! How was I to know you meant water???"), and we were on our way.

"That's the good stuff!"

Constantly had to rely on others to pour my food and water

The team. I think they already suspected they'd have to carry me the whole way.

Swallowed by the mist

That first leg was 10 miles of hell for me. This video gives a small picture of what it was like:

Or on mobile: http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UDWQjs8d7rg 

At about the 2 minute mark, you can see the rocks I had to contend with on several sections and the pace of my progress. The ground was wet too--the rocks slick. Several rivulets of water ran across our path. My feet were soaked from the beginning. Blisters formed early and annoyed me the rest of the way. My left ankle constantly rolled whenever I stepped on it wrong. Without other members of the team--notably Jeff's neighbor, Jim, and a formidable retired Army infantryman named Jody--I wouldn't have reached the end of that ten mile stretch as quickly as I did. I literally held Jim' or Jody's hand as they guided me over the rocky parts. 

Camelbacks are so convenient, aren't they? The other hikers never needed to stop or fumble in their packs for a water bottle. They could just drink through a straw to stay hydrated. Another nice convenience is that a couple large boxes of Clif bars were donated for the hike, so the team could really eat and drink as they walked. It was a bit more complicated for me.

I originally thought I'd be able to stop on the trail to eat meals along the way. This proved to be impossible. Maybe if we weren't in a hurry I could have stopped for a meal, but it would have been extremely difficult to have someone feed me one of my salmon meals then clean my plunger and syringe. It was already sucking up too much time stopping so someone could pour water down my tube. Maybe I need to bring my old portable Kangaroo pump, hook up a bag of water and just have it slowly pump water in my tube throughout the hike? That's an interesting idea, now that I think about it. The portable pump was kind of touchy when I used it in 2009, but just pumping water may not be as much of a problem.

Anyway, it really sucks being at the back of a group of hikers who are in a hurry. They told me constantly they weren't in a hurry and I needed to go at my own pace, but I felt like I was ruining the whole thing. They would all hike on at their speed, then stop every now and then to wait for me--and whoever was helping me--to catch up. They could rest waiting for me, but as soon as I'd caught up, we needed to get moving again. So, I had to keep trudging on until my next water stop.

Bottom line is, I didn't finish that section quickly enough. We were supposed to reach the end in four hours to give us time to get through the whole 60 mile trek. That meant walking at about 2.5 to 3 miles per hour, to allow for breaks to eat, drink and prep for the next section. Before the hike, Betsy and I went out and tried to time my pace to see if I could tolerate that speed. I walked on a paved trail and 3 miles per hour was tolerable, but near the limit of what I can do for an extended period of time. It's not that I don't have the stamina for a hike like that. My paralyzed left leg just doesn't get signals from the brain quickly enough to keep up with the right leg and avoid stumbling. That was on a paved trail. Over the 10-mile stretch of rocks, I was slowed to a crawl. If I'd been doing it on my own, it would've taken me all day to navigate those obstacles. With the aid of Jim, Jody, and others I got through it in 6 hours, but I had to take a break.

Jody said he was doing this hike for all the brothers from his unit who didn't make it home from Iraq.  He brought his 14 year-old son to make the journey with him. I could tell how proud he was of his son and how determined he was to finish the challenge. Jody's arms were thicker than my legs. I was pretty sure he could've run the whole 60 miles without expending too much effort. Yet, he patiently held my hand and let me lean on him through the slick parts. 

Jody guiding me through leaves. I'm the tiny one on the right.

Then, disaster. Toward the end of the first section, on a relatively smooth portion of the trail, Jody slipped on a vine and tore his MCL. The challenge was over for him. He could barely stand on his leg without agonizing pain, but he refused to give up his pack as he dragged himself the rest of the way to link up with the support crew. Just prior to the end was a river with no bridge. It had to be crossed on foot, which required taking off our shoes and wading through the shallow rapids. For me, it meant once again leaning on Jim as I slowly navigated the cool waters in my socks. For Jody, our strongest team member, it meant being carried.

Jody's not the guy doing the carrying for once

I finished that first stretch thinking I'd clearly bitten off more than I could chew with this hike. Still 50 miles to go, much of it in the dark, and I'd been licked by large rocks in my path.

Done with the first leg. Feet are soaked; ankle starting to swell; break time.

This is a big reason why Betsy came with me on this hike. She knew I'd need help with my meals and my medicine. She was also ready to step in for me when I had to sit out for a stretch.

"So far, this hiking thing is a cake-walk!"

So, I crawled into the van and we drove to the next checkpoint while Betsy struggled to keep up with the team. I'd already put them behind schedule with my meandering pace on the first leg. The second stretch was all on country roads, so they set off at a near-trot on the cement. Even completely rested, Betsy struggled to keep up with them. The two of us were woefully unprepared for this challenge.

Betsy and the others finished their leg much faster than I would've liked. My ankle was really starting to hurt and the blisters were also yelling for my attention, but the third leg was also on country roads, so I decided to tough it out. Betsy insisted on joining me for that portion of the hike too, after I got another Salmon Oats & Squash Real Food Blend:

She can feed me with her eyes closed now

Betsy and I started the third stretch at the back of the pack and that didn't change at all. It's so frustrating to see others walking at my top speed with very little effort. It didn't help that it was a "heavy drooling" day. I now have "heavy drool" and "light drool" days. Sometimes, my mouth stays relatively dry all day and I hardly ever need to use my hand towel to wipe my mouth. Other days, my mouth constantly salivates like a leaky faucet. I brought extra towels because I can never predict how much my salivary glands will be operating. However, with the number of times I fell on the wet rocks and mud and the sheer volume of my drooling--which is only exacerbated when I exert myself--it didn't take long for my towels to be saturated with dirt and spittle. This also made it even harder for me to talk, so I wasn't much of a conversationalist with the rest of the team.

We arrived at the third checkpoint right as it was growing completely dark (saw a really lovely sunset, by the way). Betsy wanted to try a nighttime leg, but I insisted she stay with me so she could help me crush my meds and eat another meal. I got used to asking others to pour water down my tube when I needed it, but asking them to help me with capsules and teaching the finer points of working the plunger were more than I was comfortable with.

After eating, I stretched out in the back of the van, tried not to think about how much my comrades might be suffering, and did this:

I'm also trying not to think about all the ticks people are finding in the van

I slept right through the fourth checkpoint. The next stretch was supposed to be the longest, at 12 miles, so Betsy opted not to hike on that one. This turned out to be an excellent idea because the team got lost on that fifth leg. They were rushing, trying to make up for lost time, and they took a wrong turn around 2 or 3 in the morning. They ended up going about three miles extra backtracking to find the right path.

Up until that fifth stretch, Jeff was holding up just fine. He was worried about overheating and having his MS 'flare up' causing his back to spasm and legs to stop working. He made it much farther, and much more quickly, than I ever could. However on that long portion of the hike, in the middle of the night, his body got too hot climbing up a large hill and he could no longer maintain the pace. The team was determined to stick together, so they slowly made their way to the fifth checkpoint as Jeff struggled to reach the van. They finally arrived as dawn broke, hours behind schedule. The team was demoralized and completely exhausted. More than one member was ready to throw in the towel, so it was decided to stop the hike completely, before a more serious injury occurred. The total distance hiked by Jeff and the others was around 43 miles.

I thought about complaining to the group about how sore my neck was and the horrible sleeping conditions I was subjected to the night before, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.

Everyone piled back in the van and we drove to what should have been the end of our hike, a park in West Virginia. The owner of a chocolate store in Frederick, MD, called The Perfect Truffle is a friend of some of our team and was kind enough to meet us at the end of the hike and cook lunch for everyone. In addition to being a chocolate confectioner, he is a hell of a chef and made some awesome breakfast burritos that the team gobbled up like it was the last food on earth.

If his chocolate is half as good as his breakfast that day, it must be amazing

We thought about pulling out my blender and putting the great looking food in it, but the park had no water source, so there was no way for me to clean the pitcher or my syringe afterward. I had a blend I brought from home in the team's cooler so I decided to save myself the hassle and just eat that.

"If only this was a breakfast burrito...or even a chocolate truffle"

So, the hike was over. In all, we raised more than $12,000 for Team Racing 4 Veterans and Crossfit Walter Reed to date (still time to donate!! I'm not quite at my goal!!!).  I met a lot of awesome, awe-inspiring people. I know it was a tad hellish going through it, but as Jeff told me before the hike, "it's the uncertainty that we embrace that keeps us alive." So this was Jeff' and I's way of telling radiation and MS to go suck it while we raised money for other veterans to get inspired to do the same.

Next year, I've been told that they'll be on a different, less rocky trail. Also, Mike Durant, the surviving helicopter pilot depicted in the movie Black Hawk Down is interested in joining us, so I'm pretty sure I'll be doing it all again.