Tomorrow, I Run

Nearly two years ago I was getting ready to run the St. George Marathon. It turned out to be a race for the ages . . . but for all the wrong reasons.

At mile 24.9 I collapsed.

Six hours later, with breathing tubes down my throat and multiple IVs in my arms, I awoke, finding myself in the Intensive Care Unit of the St. George hospital. My wife and parents rushed down after hearing my plight as I spent the night in the ICU. After stabilizing I was transferred to a regular patient recovery room where I then spent the next six days undergoing blood tests, a heart analysis, and countless other medical procedures that tested my patience and ultimately our wallet.

Contrary to what you may have thought, I had trained diligently for the race and I was in pretty good shape. I hydrated properly beforehand and was very conscientious of my diet in the days and weeks leading up to the event. But once the race began I let my adrenaline get the best of me. I ran the first 10 miles or so at much too quick of a pace for my level of running. By mile 18 I was running out of gas. Around mile 21 I began getting cramps in my calves. I would stop and stretch, but I kept going. My stubborn competitive streak was too strong, though, so I pushed through the pain.

The last thing I really remember as the race course crossed the street diagonally is looking at some of the spectators on the side and nearly asking them for water. It was somewhere near that point of the home stretch where I fell suppine (face first according to the ambulance report) and unconcious.

It turns out I had extreme heat stroke. That lead to renal failure and respiratory failure. All of that led to rhabdomyolysis. Basically my muscles were breaking down too fast and the waste was going into my blood system too quickly. If my CK levels (which tracks the amount of waste in the blood) rose too much more then kidney failure was a distinct possibility. So I was stuck in the hospital until my levels came back down. A normal person's CK levels are 500; a normal person after a marathon is around 5,000. Mine were at 10,000 and rose past 50,000. But, thankfully, they subsided and normalized.

Oh, and half way through my hospital stay, after another middle-of-the-night blood test, the nurse told me I had pneumonia.

Luckily all of that passed. With huge support and prayers from my wife, parents, family, friends, and neighbors, I was able to go home and get back to a normal life.

Which brings me to tomorrow.

I never did lose my stubborn competitive streak. What's worse is that after gradually getting back into the sport, I am an openly-admitted running addict. I run four or five times a week. I have run three half marathons since St. George. And a year ago I finished the Utah Valley Marathon even (though it was at a slower pace aiming just to finish with a friend).

In the back of my mind, though—and at probably at the forefront of my running subconscious—has been the goal to run another marathon at my race pace (about 9 min/mile) and finish strong. Almost nothing in this world feels quite so good, nothing quite so fulfilling or joyful, as pushing yourself to the max (either mentally, physically, or spiritually) and achieving something great.

No, running a marathon doesn't equal to so many other great accomplishments in life. Marriage, children, family, and a multitude of other events top the priority list. At the same time, though, there is something special about race day—the excitement of a cold autumn morning, high in the tops of the towering mountains, with thousands of other runners gearing up for this physical and mental test of strength, endurance, and fortitude;  the almost palpable feeling of anxiety as you approach starting line, realizing the grueling voyage you are about to embark; the hope and anticipation of crossing the finish line after giving all you had physically and all you could muster mentally.

Now tomorrow, in just a few short hours and much to the chagrin of my wife, I get that chance to race again, this time at the Big Cottonwood Marathon.

I won't be crossing the finish line with the first group of participants. I won't qualify for the Boston Marathon. I probably won't even be in the top half of all runners.

But nearly two years after that hot and humbling day in St. George, I will finish the race. And I will finish strong.

Tomorrow, I run.