finding inspiration on the 100 mile crew

If you are lucky, you may be given the opportunity to witness the indomitable spirit that lies inside of us. To know that it lives in those we call friend carries the whisper of the truth that it may dwell within us as well, waiting only for the right moment to be called forth. It is inspiration at the deepest level, and I had the greatest fortune to be able to be a part of what may go down on record as one of the most miserable weekends outdoors ever. And I wouldn't change a minute.

The weekend began under dark skies. With my uncanny ability to worry over the worst possible scenarios, I brooded over the troubling weather reports that predicted inches and inches of rain. I worried that my car would not be able to navigate the rough roads that led up to the start line. Heck, I worried about every possible thing that could go wrong, and then I found ways to double and triple those worries. I was a wreck. And I wasn't even running.

Megan checks in for her first 100. Smiling. Calm. Certainly not a basket case like her crew chief.

As we chatted in the cabin that evening, my mind was going a hundred miles an hour. What if it poured all day? What if it was cold? There was no way I would even start, I told myself. Megan was nuts. No way could I find that strength to toe the start line. That was normal, right? A rational, sane person would look at the impending conditions and call it off. No one would be at the start the next morning...

Except they were. And they had smiles on their faces. They were nervous, yes, but they were also quietly confident. I could feel my own weakness staring me back in my face. I wanted to be like THAT.

The only photo I have of the four of us.

Meeting up with Megan at the second aid station was a stark reminder of how tough it was out there. Eleven miles in, and she was soaked to the bone. Cold. But still able to move well, smile even.  Five minutes in the rain, and we were wet; these runners had been out in it for two hours. And they were nowhere near to calling it a day.

Marta does all the work. I take blurry photos.

The view from the cabin. We watched the rain roll across the lake all morning.

The aid station back at Olallie Lake was a tough one. Runners were coming in hypothermic, and when Megan came in, I had never seen her look so down. She was freezing; her feet were blistered from running through the water. Still, she let us put her back together to the point that she could smile again, even though 74 miles lay between her and the finish. I wanted to be like THAT.

A lovely spot near mile 54.

The bored photographer.

Through the afternoon, the rain actually let up a bit. You know, only a half inch an hour, versus the downpour that had marked the morning. When we saw Megan again at mile 54, she was feeling alright and picking up Marta to pace her seemed to lift her spirits.  We watched runner after runner pull in, most of them still smiling and positive, only a few too hurt to go on. I wanted to be like THAT.

Everyone huddled under the aid station tent.

The respite from the rain did not last, though, and as darkness fell, the rain and wind began to arrive in earnest. Runners reported trees falling behind them on the trail (with just a touch of glee, it seemed). News came down that snow was falling back up at the start line, and a tree had come down on two participants' cars. Even still, folks were coming in full of hope - tired, yes, but with a will to keep on going even as the conditions deteriorated.

In time it became clear that continuing the race was dangerous. Somewhere around 9:30 pm, the race directors called it, and when Megan finally returned to mile 71, we had to tell her it was over. I have no doubt in my mind that she would have finished the race, even though most of us would have called it a day long before mile 71. Yeah, I wanted to be like THAT.

Done.

In the end, it was not her spirit that could be broken. It was not her toughness, or her determination. Just the darn weather. And she was not the only one. All of those runners had the courage to sign up, to start, to continue, and to call it a day when the conditions, either of the course of their own bodies, were too severe to go on. But their will, their heart, their courage - that was all strong. Witnessing their battles, being a part of their journey, touched me in a way that is hard to put in to words. Seeing what is possible in others reveals what may be possible in yourself. I am inspired to push myself more, to go even deeper down that rabbit hole to see what I am capable of accomplishing.

So to all who put themselves out there for the Mountain Lakes 100, thank you. You were truly an inspiration.