Disclaimer: There are no fish pics in this post. No paddling either. Side note: Cancer Sucks.

In 2010 I was training for my first ultra, logging training runs in the New River Gorge. I wanted to run a 50 miler. But I wrecked some ankle tendons during my training and a subsequent marathon. My gait compensation caused me to develop plantar fasciitis. After that, I struggled to run long distances and gave up my dream of running an ultra.

My family and I moved, in 2012, to Farmville, Va from Fayetteville, WV. Now I work for my father-in-law's business, Appomattox River Company and am on the Blue Ridge Outdoors Magazine athlete team as a kayak fisherman. I'm not exactly bipedal endurance material. This year, on a whim, I decided to join my brother-in-law, John Waite, and his aptly named Team Bonkers, at the Virginia 24 Hour Run for Cancer in Hampton, VA on April 25-26. My beloved grandmother on my mom's side died from cancer in 2008 and it still stung. I thought running in her honor, as well as all who've fought that fight, would be cathartic.

When the day arrived, I was anxious. I hadn't done any training. Though I still told people my goal was 50 miles when asked. I always set ridiculous goals and blurt them out. It's some sort of absurd personal challenge Tourettes. What was I thinking?

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The 24 Hour Cancer run was held at Sandy Bottom Nature Park on a 3.75-mile lollipop loop. My sister was running too, and her goal was to stay active for 12 hours and walk/run at least a marathon. The race started at 7:30am. I ran the first lap as planned and then met my sister. We walked the second lap together and chatted about our families. If you miss your siblings and friends and want to spend some quality time with them, sign up for a 24-hour run.

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I fell in love with this event. The trails were full of determined people and the atmosphere was warm. Because of the course layout, you passed people over and over. It created an intimacy, a sense of strong camaraderie between "strangers" on the trail. Everyone smiled in passing, slapped high fives and offered encouraging words. Each lap started and ended in the same spot. So you got a chance to visit your team tent and recharge after every loop. Big props to the volunteers who manned the start station and counted everyone's laps! The rain came at 10am, way earlier than expected. The temperature never rose into the 60s as forecast. The weather only got less hospitable. In the end, it was the worst it'd been in the 12 years this race's been run.

The miles and the rain wore on. Soon I was in uncharted territory. As I rounded the bend to reach 33.75, I spotted my sister at the .625 marker. She was doing an out and back to the marker to finish with her 1st 50K! She persevered through some pain and now she was closing in on her personal best mileage. We ran her last .625 in together. Pumping our limbs, we both started giggling and asking, "My arms are moving REALLY fast, are my legs moving?" It was my favorite moment of the run.

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Two of my buddies, Joe O'Brien and Shane Cochran, both finished with strong ultra distances. I felt proud of everyone's efforts, especially given the conditions. By now the trail was a wet, muddy mess and the rain was still steady. After my sister's triumph, I hit lap #10. It was a struggle. The sun began to drop below the horizon and the temps dropped into the 40s. I finished up lap 10 aka 37.50 miles and stumbled to my truck. I'd forgotten gloves and my hands were frozen. I wanted one more change of socks along with an overhaul of my clothes. I sank into my seat, heat pumping in the truck, and thought about quitting. I could be proud of 37.5 miles for my first ultra. I had switched my Farm To Feet Asheville Low socks for the Blue Ridge Compression socks around mile 15. The compression socks served me extremely well over 22+ miles. I was reluctant to strip them off. But when I changed into a fresh pair of Roanoke Crews I started to rally. The Farm To Feet socks impressed me greatly the entire day. I slipped out of the truck and back into the rain soaked night.

As I passed our tent my brother-in-law spotted me, "I thought you were done." "So did I," I replied. He'd run a marathon in the morning, pacing a friend, gone to my nieces' soccer games, then come back to our tent, brewed chicken broth and cheered us on. Now he was suited up for a couple nighttime miles. He had 4 more laps to hit 40, a good training run for his upcoming race, the Massanutten 100. My brother-in-law is an ultra running beast.

There were a lot of ultra running beasts out there. So many people endured the weather and pounded out miles. I saw folks carrying American flags and people carrying the names of loved ones lost. I saw elite endurance athletes pushing the limits and shattering records, and everyday folks pushing their personal limits. The Men and Women's winners, Steve and Megan, crushed 133.25 and 131 miles! It was truly awe-inspiring.

I had 3 laps to go, plus an out and back 1.25 to finish with 50. The next few laps were a blur of pain, ankle deep mud, and rain. I was hobbling at a pretty slow pace. There were some tough moments in those last 12.5 miles. With the rain beating down and my headlamp lighting the muddy trail, I finally rounded the bend and hit the start/stop line for mile 48.75.

At 12:50 am, I started the walk to the .625 mark. At .25 my left foot exploded with searing pain. I stopped and cursed. I wondered if I could finish. When I got to the marker I just stood there, thinking about my grandmother and that long month my family spent by her bedside as she fought the cancer eating away at her bones. I thought about all the other folks in my life who've been touched by this disease, and I started walking back.

I noticed a discarded protein packet, on the side of the trail and remember saying, "I don't think I can stop, stoop and pick that up." No one else was around. I could just leave it.

But in those moments, funny stuff enters your head. I looked at the trash and realized that if I didn't grab it, my whole journey would be tainted. So I bent over and picked it up. It seemed to take forever. I walked, looking at the trash in my hand. It felt so burdensome. I limped, favoring that busted foot, towards the finish line, where I knew I'd find my team and a trashcan.

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In the end, I got my 50. It took 18 hours. Elite ultra runners crush 100s in that time, I know that, but for me it was a huge triumph. I had pushed myself further than I'd ever gone, besting my previous PB mileage by 24 miles. The Virginia 24 Hour Run for Cancer was a magical moment. I want to thank all the volunteers and the race director, George, for all they do. This is a great event, even with bad weather. I may have to climb out of my kayak for another ultra. There is fun to be had out there past the marathon, just make sure you train first. The "off the couch" 50 is not recommended. Team Bonkers finished 9^th out of 18 teams and I'm proud of every person who put in those miles. Well done!

Currently the race raised $14,600.00 for the fight against cancer. Awesome.

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