"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courge to start." -- John "The Penguin" Bingham

We completed the 40 mile long march in horrible conditions... the wind and weather were so bad, we were evacuated to a secondary camp site that happened to be a community gymnasium.  Rather than another two nights on hard rock, listening to the wind howl against the tent walls as the rain came down -- we had the wonderful confines of a hardwood floor and a HOT shower in the attached locker room.  Some of the purists grumbled, but there would have been a riot if they had tried to stop people from getting their first bath in a week.

The race is organized so that people could have two days to complete the long march, if necessary.  If slower runners didn't make cutoff times at the checkpoints, they could shelter in place for a few hours of rest before continuing.  Given the 20+ hours of daylight in Iceland in August, everyone managed to make the time cut offs -- and as word spread that camp was going to be indoors that night, there was no way in hell people were going to hole up at the half way point.  I suspect a few people who decided to quit were beaten by the brutal weather and then too tempted to get indoors and warm....

So we spent the whole day inside, resting in our bags and waiting for the final 6mile run to the finish line.  If you looked at any of us, you wouldn't believe that we could run 6 yards, much less miles.  I had started to blister badly on the ball of my foot at around mile 35, but also my ankles and knees were finally and truly shot from the terrain. I had reached bottom on the long march at the checkpoint just after mile 33 -- my knees were starting to throb, and I reached into my front pack for my emergency stash of ibuoprofen and tylenol to just get me the rest of the way.  I pulled out the ziplok baggie to find that my spork had punched a hole in it, and the bag was now waterlogged.  Looking at the goopy paste of advil and tylenol, I turned the bag inside out and sucked the mushed up stuff still in it.  It was a grim moment that defined "I'll do anything right now for a hit of pain killers."  If there had been a nearby pharmacy, I may have threatened the owner to bash his head with one of the readily available lava rocks for a frigging advil gelcap....  again, Thank God for Vitamin I -- even if I had to use dissolved pills like an oxycontin freak.

As we came to life the morning of the final stage, most of the runners were barely walking.  It took me about 10 minutes to get to a kneeling position out of my sleeping bag, and then Gabriel helped lift me to a chair so I could begin the daily ritual of bandaging my feet.  If there had been a betting line as to whether many of us could get those last 6 miles in, it would have done brisk business.  One uplifting moment was when I strapped up my backpack -- now devoid of all food, it felt outrageously light.  Given a half ration of water and no more consumables, it weighed more like 12 lbs than 30.  With this one positive thought providing a lift, it was time to get it done.

We had to be bused back to the starting line for the final stage -- which was described yet again as 5 miles of "difficult" terrain.  Unsurprisingly, we were starting out again downhill through lava rock, before crossing a highway and onto a gravel path to the Blue Lagoon.  We worked our way from the bus to the starting line, unfortunately yet again starting out in a not great position where a lot of slower runners would be bottlenecking up in front of us and slowing our pace.  Still, having threatened the life of at least one of my teammates if he pushed to run too hard through that rock, I wasn't expecting more than a leisurely pace anyway.

And yet...when the countdown finished and we were off.... and compared to 40 miles the prior stage, this was a damn near sprint.  Although still caught at the back of the pack in too much traffic, having to wait where the runners lined up single file down some of the rocky hillside, we hauled ass anywhere we could down the final stretch. Downhill, through the broken terrain, all I could think about was getting this over with -- the only motivation at this point was being DONE.  No explanation for where the energy came from, other than pure adrenalin of knowing the end was near.

We came to the gravel track that indicated we were less than 2 km out -- and there, in the rain and wind we found our friend Lilly from Stage 4. With a big smile, she joined up with us and said she wanted to cross the finish line together with the Hombres de Maiz.  With about 250 meters to go, we were joined by our tent-mate Martin, who had sufficiently recovered from bad leg injuries and problem after we helped get him in from Stage 4 to be able to run it out today.  As we came over the rise, through the spitting rain, we saw the finish line and cheering crowd.  I could easily spot my family as Raimundo had arranged for matching bright green jackets for all the teammates' family members who had come out to see us.  The Guatemalans pulled out their country flag, and the race organizers and volunteers started chanting "Hombres de Maiz!", our war cry as we approached each checkpoint.  The final push to the finish line was met with huge hugs and tears. 

My girls crowded all over me, hugging me and holding any part of me they could grab.  Catherine's first comment though, was "Daddy.... you smell REALLY bad!"   Although the warm shower in the gym had helped, wearing the same shirt for 6 days and 155 miles had done its damage.  Allison was quick with a kiss and big smile.  Paul Gennari and his wife Teri had also made the trip -- Paul said there was no way he was going to miss seing this through to the end, and I think he was just as proud as I was.  We had a tent reunion as we cheered for Iris as she came across the finish line (Christian, of course, had raced through at a fast pace and finished in the top 30 overall), with cheers and kisses.  The Hombres de Maiz team exchanged our jerseys with our new Swiss friends, with smiles and laughs about the shared adventure.

After some recovery time at the Blue Lagoon, we caught the awards dinner that evening.  Our team placed second, behind a wonderful and strong Irish team that ran consistently every day, working well together and staying injury free. The Irish team consisted of two active duty officers and a female runner who had auditioned for their effort -- they were fantastic, talented, and wonderful people.  Real credit, though, is also due to the Chinese team that came in 3rd.  After they bonked on the 4th stage, one of their teammates suffered a bad leg injury going into the 40 mile long march.  Rather than drop out and disqualify the entire team, they came to the decision that they would carry on together -- through absolutely punished weather, and unforgiving terrain. I really don't know how they did it, but they must have carried their injured teammate most of the way -- taking almost 18 hours to finish that day. The final stage's difficult terrain posed even more of a challenge, and they were the last people to cross the finish line at 3.5 hours to do those last 7 miles.  It was an absolutely heroic effort, and I don't think our team would have survived that, or even attempted to stay together.

The Overall Winner, Saudi Mo Foustok, was not only an artist in terms of running across the varied terrain, but a true gentleman.  Always quick with a warm smile in camp, Mo finished the 40 mile day in just over 6 hours.  After getting warmed up, rather than staying in camp, he asked to return to the stage 5 finish line (in those hellish conditions), where he stayed for hours with just a few race volunteers to cheer in all of us schlubs as we dragged ourselves to the end -- congratulating us and cheering us the final few yards.  At the race's end, when I introduced him to my children, rather than say anything about himself, he kneeled down to my smallest daughters and said "Aren't you proud of your Dad? He did an AMAZING thing!"  At the awards banquet, Mo's victory speech consisted of praising all the ordinary runners who fought and struggled to finish -- his best quotation -- "I could learn many things from you -- your commitment and desire and will to go on despite the conditions, for that long a period of time -- I don't think I could do what you did."  He was true grace and nobility by example and in victory.

Our final result was a time of 42 hours, 43 minutes.  We finished 101st out of 270 starters, putting us just around the top 40% overall and for our age group. Just around 220 runners finished -- a much lower dropout than the desert races, but the big danger of dehydration was not a factor (lol).  Apart from a few hypothermia cases (thankfully they eliminated the two river crossings, by order of the Medical Director), insanely nasty and unrecoverable foot blisters, broken/sprained ankles or injured knees did in the most people.  There were other runners, including our great tent-mate Sergio, who were toppled over in the strong winds and fell onto the jagged lava rocks -- sustaining head injuries that required medical attention and lots of stitches. Half the runners had completed at least one 150m race before Iceland – with a considerable percentage of them adventure race junkies who are committed to endurance racing as their passion.  Many of them have already booked for Madagascar in a year, or the Sahara desert in the Spring.

In review of my “rookie” effort, there was a lot of room for improvement.  I was almost over trained for the distance, having completed so many stair workouts, and multiple 15-30 mile trail runs.  But my poor balance and lack of confidence in the worst of the rocky terrain slowed us down considerably, and it was frustrating to see trekkers who we had passed earlier on the runnable portions of the course go past us as they used their trekking poles to navigate ground that had me slowed to a crawl.  Balance work in the gym would have been helpful. Similarly, I could have done more to toughen my feet for the pounding they took – dirt trail running wasn’t enough.  We made some tactical errors too in starting each stage at the back of the pack (I usually didn’t make it to the starting line until 5 minutes before the start, which held up my teammates), and then being stuck in bottlenecks where the terrain only allowed single file running added hours to our time. For example, we lost well over an hour in the lava tunnel of stage 4, stuck behind some competitors who froze up going through the dark narrow caves – while earlier competitors shot through in less than 20 minutes. Finally, I carried way too much weight in my pack – close to 30lbs,. vs. the race leaders who had less than 15. While I had marginally better, and more, food – it wasn’t worth lugging that much extra weight 155 milles up and down hills. That being said, these are the types of criticisms that are easily done back in the warmth and comfort of my home – versus just focusing on making it to the next checkpoint. I was fortunate to have supportive teammates who allowed me to “learn” as I went.

It wasn’t the weather that made the race tough – at least for those of us from Northern climates.  The cold and rain was fairly typical New England weather, between December and March.  Running headlong into 60mph+ wins was brutal and sapped your energy, but also survivable. It was the debilitating effect of constant and prolonged exposure the combination of conditions, while putting up huge mileage, that wore you down.  Running a marathon in a Nor-Easter, and then having to sleep on the rocky ground in the freezing cold before turning around and having to do it again (for SIX days) – that combination was rough. But I have to say, without a doubt the toughest factor for me was the terrain. Those frigging lava rocks just crushed my feet and ankles.  Imagine walking down a rocky beach or lakeshore barefoot to the water, where you keep stepping on sharp rocks that hurt like hell – and then imagine that for 155 miles. It sucked.  My running shoes look like someone took a machete to the soles and hacked gouges out of the treads, followed by a Rottweiler chewing on them for a while.

If you looked at all the competitors who completed the whole race, you would see all different ages, body types, and levels of athleticism.  These runners had one thing in common – resiliency. They had the unwavering belief that, despite the conditions and pain, they would keep going. It was a great mindset to learn from.  I have been asked many times if it was “fun.”  HELL NO.  But it was worthwhile.  Every morning, after a sleepless night on the rocky ground, in a cold and wet tent, you would have to get up.  Your leg muscles ached and your knees screamed – just getting out of the sleeping bag hurt. You worked on prepping your feet for a few minutes – taping up blisters and then coating them in Desitin Zinc Oxide Diaper Rash medicine, followed by Body Glide.  You threw on a nasty, wet shirt for the nth time, loaded up a pack on your sore back, and then walked out into the howling wind and rain – to run at least 30 miles on the worst terrain imaginable. The enjoyment was in the grim determination and satisfaction that as miserable as you were, you were going to do it.  That NOT going forward was somehow worse.  And just as importantly, you had several teammates you had committed to, who were right there suffering alongside you. 

Before I sign off, it would be criminal to not thank a few people.  First, we were very fortunate to be paired up with some fantastic tentmates during our journey – Sergio from Chile, who was set to win his age class before high winds on the second day and a bad fall on rock left him with an 8 inch gash in his face and head, a bunch of stitches, a mild concussion, and a forced withdrawal. He stayed for the duration of the race to encourage the rest of us, and even better, shared some wonderful prosciutto he had brought along which got us through the long march.  And our new Swiss friends – Martin, Iris and Christian – they are friends for life and we hope to see them in New York (and Guatemala).  We had many long laughs that made the nightly and morning suffering more bearable. Thank you for your friendship.

There are several people in New York that were instrumental in helping me prepare. Dr. Drew DeMann of Manhattan Spine & Sports Medicine gave me a 11^th hour tune up that was hugely important – I was having knee pain for a week going into the race, and his assessment, expertise, treatment and support the morning of my flight was absolutely critical. Drew has always been a friend that is there in good time and bad, and he gave me the confidence to push through the pain during the race without worrying about injury. The physical therapy he gave me before I left was fantastic – the psychological therapy of allowing me to feel good about pushing myself was invaluable.

Not enough can be said about our trainer, and my close friend Paul Gennari.  When I approached Paul last November and said “I want to do a 150 mile ultra marathon endurance race”, despite my overweight condition and 10 years of inactivity, his immediate response was “If you listen to me and do what I tell you, you’ll get there.”  Any success I had to this race is due to Paul’s guidance, support, and friendship. This successful race is as much his victory as mine – hours of running stairs and gym workouts only tell part of the story. His faith is the most important part.

Of course, my family was hugely supportive of this ridiculous endeavor. Allison allowed me to disappear many Saturday and Sunday mornings for 6-8 hours on long training runs and hikes – yet again leaving her with the burden of handling 4 kids on weekend mornings.  She cheered me every step of the way, and helped with all of the logistics as well.  Again, this was a selfish activity that took me away from my family for more hours than can be justified, and I couldn’t have done it without their support.

Lastly, not enough can be said about my teammates on the Hombres de Maiz.  I effectively crashed Ramiro and Gabriel’s race, as they had already entered months before I signed on.  They were exceptionally graceful (and dangerously optimistic) about allowing a fat rookie gringo to join their effort – having won the Atacama Desert Race several years earlier.  Ramiro had completed 3 endurance races before this, and his strength was admirable.  Gabriel, a veteran of Eco Challenges as well as ultra marathons, became a very solid leader and his support got me through many tough moments – the lava cliffs may have finished me off without his support at my side.  But Raimundo will always be my hero in this experience.  Having sworn to never do this kind of race again, he agreed to do it if I committed.  Raimundo not only handled most of our logistics (and amazing gear), but was the heart of our team in so many ways.  When we came across struggling runners, his instant decision was always to help others, regardless of our discomfort or desire to move forward.  An accomplished ironman triathlete and part of the winning Atacama team, Raimundo’s true strength lies in his Christian character and focus on others.  I could not ask for a better friend.

I can’t thank you all enough for your many messages, cheers, and words of encouragement that you wrote on my blog during the race.  The allotted 15 minutes of internet time to read messages from home were absolutely critical – it means a lot to me and made a real difference.   While the day I finished the race, I swore I would NEVER again do anything like this, if any of you got some crazy idea to take one of these races on….. think about Sahara 2015.  Because if I could do it, you can too – and doing it with friends makes all the difference.

With love to you all,

R