From XL to XTERRA…Tagaman

Last of three parts

After unclipping from the bike it was a not so comfortable run over to the rack where I had my gear laid out for the run course. I was focused solely on the location of my sneakers, cap, and socks to the point where I was almost unaware of anything else around me.

At first I couldn’t find my stuff, but then my brain started to work again and I found it. About that time, John appeared out of thin air and asked me if I needed anything, and what he could do. I let out a pretty winded “Water” and he took off running for a couple of Dixie cups of H2O.

While he was off on a mission of mercy, I struggled to come up with a good plan of how to bend by legs to get my sneakers on. It was painful to fight the cramps in my gams, but I clenched my teeth and started forcing my left foot into my sneaker. Yeah, that was not cool, especially since I still had to do the same with my right foot.

About the time I fit the square peg into the round hole, John came back with about four cups of water, as did his girlfriend Jennifer. I drank one or two of them and poured the rest into my Camelback.

Between the three of us, we have been in one full triathlon, and that was on Tinian, so none of us really knew anything about the rules of the transition point. John and Jen were only interested in helping me complete the race, and they pitched in to lend a hand until they were scolded for their actions by one of the old guards of multi-sport.

Regardless of the race marshal, I was really happy that the big guy and his girlfriend were there. I wouldn’t have been able to get water until I got to the aid station by the Army Reserve station that was about a mile or so away. Even if my distance is off a bit, it still seemed a long way away at the time, and the aqua was muy bien.

I donned my white cap and headed out to the run course, but I wasted about four or five steps when I ran toward the wrong exit before getting turned around. The people in the area wished me luck, and I was off. Suddenly the chaotic rush of the transition point gave way to the small trots of the run course, and the sound of the crowd at the finish line faded into the haggling of the shoppers at the Flame Tree Festival.

I was just trying to keep up the trot until I got to the trail, because I knew I could walk on the trail run portion without being seen by everyone. It was difficult, and after passing through the Smiling Cove Marina parking lot, I took a few steps off here and there until I heard someone behind me. That’s about the time when I knew that I wasn’t in last place, but I had to at least keep up the slow trot if I was going to keep him at bay.

Finally I saw the water stop, and when I got there I stopped for a few glasses of water, poured some on my head, and met the guy who finally caught up to me—Brad H—–.

We were both in a crummy condition and were pretty happy that each of us wasn’t the only one hating the run, so we decided to join forces for the rest of the course and trot until we got to the first trail section.

We crossed Chalan Pale Arnold and headed onto the drive that leads to the Anaks apartments when we finally hit trail. Not long into the course we decided that running was something that would be limited to downhills and flat stretches in order to save our energy. The course started off with an ascent, so walking was good for me. There was a lot of leaning uphill and ducking in the beginning, and when we got back onto the pavement, we jogged down to the bottom of the hill. We kept the pace slow so we could plan our run course strategy along the way, but when we got to the bottom of the hill, the red course arrow was on the ground. It turned out to be pointing the wrong way as well, so we fixed it and took a right that jogged along a road until the sweet relief of an uphill walking portion.

The run course never really got any better for me, as my legs retuned to Crampsville every time I stopped running and with a higher frequency. The temperature wasn’t helping either, as my sunglasses began melting onto my face.

As I was stumbling through the jungle I remember distinctly thinking that the professionals only finish the course so fast because they don’t want to be under the sun all day. That may be true, but it is also because they train for this stuff all year.

At one point on the course, Brad and I had to stop because we had come to a section of the course where we hadn’t seen an arrow for a while. It wasn’t fun to run all that way up a couple of hills only to wonder if we should turn around and go back to the last arrow.

Looking back at the situation, it really would have made sense to just keep going along the dirt road until we found another arrow because we didn’t notice the start of any trail section, but I had the bright idea of going back to the last arrow and looking around from there.

On the way back we met a runner who raced the course last year, and he told us that we were right on track. So, we reluctantly ran back up the two hills and continued on. The further we got into the trees, the more things started to look familiar. I was feeling good when we got to the bamboo forest because I knew that we were near the road—and from there it was mostly downhill.

When we passed the beehives there was a group of supporters on the side of the road who cheered us on, and I was inspired to run past them. I was not trying to fool them into thinking that I was running the whole course, but if they thought that I was it was okay.

Well, the little trot up the hill gave the legs that crampin’ feelin’ again, but I was able to loosen them up with a run on the down slope that lead to the part of the course that led to the caves.

When we got to the turn off, there were a couple of ladies handing out drinks and playing local music in their car. I never got their names, but it was great to see them. After a brief stop to refuel with water and sports drink, we were off. The only problem was that my legs wouldn’t loosen up, so I lagged behind, and did like the injured guy in the World War II movies and said “Don’t worry about me. Go on ahead, I can make it.”

It was a slow go to through the rocky ravine that led to the cave complex, and once inside, the marshals led me through blackness with a lantern. I guess that because I was out there so long that the batteries were starting to die in the ground lights.

From there it was about a four foot drop to the trail, but in my sorry state it looked more like double that. I got down okay, and tenderly followed down the rocky ravine until I got to the road.

Once there, I saw the familiar face of Agnes McGrath who wished me well and told me that it was getting close. Hearing that I was near the end kind of gave me a little spring in my step, so much so that I was able to trot on down to the Japanese temple to get some water at the aid station. About that time Sue Knecht showed up with a running mate to get some water, and knowing they would eventually pass me or catch up, I took off a little quicker than I would have liked. They finally did get me at the final water stop at the Fishing Base in Garapan, and Sue told me to shed my Camelback, drink some water, and pour cold water on my legs to quell the cramps for the final stretch down the beach.

It worked for a while, but I fell behind when we started running again. Sue and her running mate left a water bottle for me on the beach, which I later returned somewhere near Hafa Adai Hotel, but I dropped back again—for a while.

I was beat, the sun was cookin’ my dome, and all I could think about was the guy who almost finished last year and crashed out in the sand—but that’s when I saw the beach vendors behind the Dai-Ichi. A few more step revealed the flags behind the Hyatt, and after that was a bunch of people way off in the distance by some orange flags at Micro Beach. I was going to make it!

That was all I needed. There was no passing out on the beach for me because I could see the end. Without realizing it, I started to pick up the pace. Before I knew it, I was moving as fast as the legs would take me. I could hear people clapping, I could see them waving to direct me to the final chute. I went past the two that helped me with the water, and I stole a peek off to my right to see the finish arch. When it came into view I cracked a smile and ran harder. I was almost there!

When I took the final right turn I could see John and Jennifer cheering for me to finish out of the corner of my eyes. I passed them with full focus on the clock. I could hear the announcer call my name as I ran from the sand, across the concrete sidewalk, and onto the grass for the final sprint. This was it, passing the banners, the fans, the flags, THE FINISH!

I was handed a PowerAde, covered with an ice-cold towel, and led to the first aid tent where I was force-fed water and surrounded by friends and congratulators. Aw man, all those hours of feeling like crap and now I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face.

It was great. As I lie there mummified in cold towels on the chair I was congratulated by a number of friends who had helped me during the journey from XL to XTERRA in one way or another—it was kind of like what happened to George Bailey at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

John came over and made me feel like a champ for finishing the race, but he turned out to be the real winner, as he and teammates Max Simian and Brian Smith took third place for their efforts in the relay.

There are so many people to thank, and I will mention them all, but I wasn’t finished yet—I still had to do Tagaman the next week.