Tommy Williams: Bataan In My Eyes: The Cliff Notes

So I didn't train like I was supposed to. I hadn't messed with my ruck. I didn't use any GU shots or supplement drinks. I had never been farther than 12 miles and that sucked. I ran the first 3 miles without stopping and the rest of the way was a walk, run, shuffle, cuss til the end. My hamstring about popped out, my knee felt like someone hit it with a bat and I lost a toenail....So now I was going to set out on 26.2 miles of fun in the sun, up some hills and across a little sand. Great. Just freaking great.

I won't go into all the emotional stuff about the pre-race ceremony since Mike already went all Oprah on us and did that. I will say that just being there in the holding area had my heart pounding like I was on the round of 15 doing Fran. To say I was nervous was an understatement. My plan was.... OK, I didn't have a plan. I was just going to put one foot in front of the other and see how far that got me. I remember stopping at the first water station and everyone was laughing and talking. I think Brandon even dropped down and did 50 push ups while I was taking a leak. It was such an awesome sight to see, all those people out there in that beautiful desert sunrise trucking along quite nicely. I felt freaking great! 

The day before the race. Tommy in the center with his new hat on.

Because of the awful time of morning we had to get up and set out from the hotel my morning routine was thrown off and my stomach was telling me I better find a toilet and quick. I mentioned this to the guys and I remember Jason saying something like "You take forever." He was referring to my pre-WOD constitutional I take at the Box which sometimes takes longer than the actual WOD. I assured him I would make it quick, honestly I didn't have a choice in the matter. Stepping out of the port-o-John and I saw Heather, Clay and his cousin Brandon. I thought "What the hell?!, we've been running this whole time and they have a run/walk thing going and we are at the same pace!?"...oh well, I was still having a good time and trying not to think about the little pains that were starting to creep in.

The next eventful thing was "The Hill". Everything you've read about this so far is a lie, it's way freaking worse than anyone can express in words. We (Jason, Mike and Brandon) did a run, walk combo to the top. This probably took close to 2 hours. Looking back we probably should have just walked but we looked freakin hard as we ran past the walkers. At least until Brandon gave the signal and we got to walk again til it was time to run... I remember getting to the top and wanting to jump for joy, but instead I just took my pack off and bought a burger and slammed 6 cups of water. Other than the burger that had been my routine at every water stop, 6 cups of water and fill my water bottle. By now I was having lots of aches and pains. I remembered Levi the night before the the race saying that you know things are going to hurt so just expect it. Well things were hurtin, but I kept telling myself that it was OK because everything still worked....I wondered where Levi was.  Was he finished?  Did he win?  How the hell is he so freakin fast?  Where was "The Good Doctor"? Was Heather still with Clay and his cousin? I hope they're alright.....

Two American Heroes: A "Wounder Warrior" shaking the hand  of a Bataan Survivor.

From time to time we would see a Wounded Warrior missing a leg or an arm.  I would use that to deal with the pain because that guy would love to feel the pain I was feeling and I had nothing to complain about.  Seeing those guys made me question myself and made me feel like an inadequate American.  We tend to forget there is a war going on.  We get caught up in our jobs, hobbies, T.V. shows and all the other b.s. stuff WE Americans get to enjoy while there are men and women fighting and dying everyday.  Whether you agree with the war or not, it's happening and we have the choice to turn it off and go about our lives like the stupid, fat and happy people our society has become.  What a disgrace WE have become....But enough on that, we had a ruck to finish....

I knew if I was to fall behind my band of brothers I was doomed.  I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and pushed the pain further and further away.  

The last 3 miles were like a bad dream.  The wall was taunting us and the sun was doing its part to bake us to a crisp.  Mike was cramping bad.  Me and Jason were doing our best to make sure he didn't stop.  He's one of the strongest SOB's I know, and I knew he would finish, I just wasn't sure how long the last mile was gonna take us.  This whole time I never once put my ipod on. Mike and Jason had theirs on so every time we spoke they wouldn't hear me and I would yell and they would yell back.  At this point in the trip this was frustrating the hell outta both me and them... And then...there it was!  Tears of joy filled my eyes.  I wanted to sprint and in my mind I was, but I was in old man shuffle mode as we crossed the finish line.  The smile on my face was as big as Texas!

I'd just like to say thanks to you boys and Heather for allowing me to go on this lil journey with you guys.  Sorry I wasn't the team player you were looking for and missed out on all those "fun" training rucks.  If y'all wanna give it a go next year, I'm your Huckleberry...

Bataan...Heather Hofstetter...The Finish...

I took off from the med tent at mile 20 with the mindset to finish and in order to do that I thought it would be best to just walk for a little bit. Around mile 21 was where the “sand pit” started and people may see this as being unfortunate because I went from the med tent to the sand pit or they can think like I do and see it as God made me stop before it got worse. From mile 20 on I started praying. Along the route I did pray to keep everyone including myself safe, but at this point I was praying much harder. I prayed for the Lord to give me wings of an eagle, quick feet, and to get me to the finish line.

At the top of one of the hills as the “sand pit” ended you could see some blue tents and some of the buildings. I turned to one of the girls walking beside me and told her, “well we can see it, that’s a good sign”. At this point my foot didn’t sink into the sand every time I took a step so I started my intervals back up. I remember passing mile 24 and it seemed like forever since I had seen another sign saying what mile we were on. I kept thinking maybe they skipped mile 25 and the next one I see will be mile 26, but that didn’t happen. The sign said mile 25 and this was some where around the “never ending” wall. I was a little angry and then I became even more angry when I saw those blue tents again, which turned out to be covers for playground structures…not the finish line. I sat down for a second in the very little shade that the wall was producing and took half of an EFS shot, drank some water, and then got back up and went back to it.

There were people sitting along the wall yelling at all the participants that we had one more mile to go and to stay strong. I noticed two other women who were also participating in the heavy division beside me and as I continued towards the finish it felt like we were playing tag. When I would run my intervals she would be behind me, but when I started walking she would quickly catch up and get ahead of me. This too irritated the hell out of me. At one point I really wanted to tell her to just go and she can have it, she can beat me that I didn’t care. But I didn’t say a word because honestly I did care, I wanted to finish and make a good time so I just kept going.

Heather right after the race. At this point she had just had her ruck weighed, and was heading to the finishers tent. Photo by Leigh Montgomery

As I passed the sign that read mile 26 I started to run. I had less than 400m to go and I wanted to get there as quickly as possible. I came up on a group of military men who were walking and were spread out to where I couldn’t get through. I tapped one on the shoulder and said excuse me, but he didn’t hear me so one of his buddies told him to move so I could get through. This happened a couple of times along the course and I was extremely relieved every time they moved over for me and didn’t give me any grief as I said thank you and ran passed. I could hear the crowd at this point and as I ran through the gate to go towards the finish I could see and hear Leigh Montgomery and Jennifer Moseley. As I got closer and passed by them I could then hear Levi. I could see Levi, Leigh, and Jennifer running with me along the fence and I listened as they told me to, “finish strong”, “come on baby”, “don’t stop Heather”, and to “keep going, you are almost there”. I looked towards the finish line and I saw Tommy standing there right passed line just smiling. I got closer and I could hear Mike and Jason, but I couldn’t see them. At this point I was full on running and gave it everything I had left. I crossed the finish line and Tommy gave me huge hug and told me he was so proud of me. Mike and Jason told me the same while they took my ruck off for me and weighed it, which came in close to 40 pounds. I finally saw Levi and hugged him as he told me once again that, “it wasn’t a matter of if I finished it was when I was going to finish”. 

Heather getting an "Atta Girl!!" finishing hug from Levi (in white shirt) Photo by Leigh Montgomery

I wasn’t emotional afterwards, but my head was hurting and I still didn’t feel like I was sweating so I told the guys about mile 20 and the condition I was in. The group had me sit in the shade under the huge tent at the finish where I met back up with Clay, Brandon B., Brandon D., and Srdj. They gave me Gatorade and water, took my shoes off so I’d get cooler, and threw a wet t-shirt on my head and shoulders to help get my body heat down. They really didn’t have to take care of me. They could have let some medic do it, but they didn’t. They helped more than they will ever know and I will forever be grateful to have such great friends like them. I had nothing left, physically or mentally, as I sat there drinking liquids and listening to everyone’s stories. I asked Leigh if she had talked to my mom and she told me that after she sent the text out that Clay and Brandon finished my mom wrote back, “She’s coming”. I asked my mom about this later and all she told me was that she “felt” me and knew that I was coming soon. After a while we took one last picture and headed towards the truck.

It brings tears to my eyes every time I look back at this moment where Levi, Leigh, and Jennifer were running with me to the finish and seeing Tommy across the finish line while hearing Mike and Jason cheering me on. I am extremely fortunate to be a part of such a wonderful community and family to have this support and love. Other than my father, Levi Montgomery, Mike Hoge, Tommy Williams, Brandon Bonser, Jason Moseley, Clay Pilkilton, Brandon Denham, and Srdjan Mirkovic are some of the most amazing men who I not only look up to, but who I am honored to know. Thank you gentlemen for allowing me to share this experience with you and for looking out for me along the way and at the end. To Brandon B., thank you so very much for taking the time to reserve all of our rooms and plan out the trip. Leigh Montgomery and Jennifer Moseley, thank you so much for supporting us and for being great friends.

Heather being escorted to the finisher's tent by the guys. Photo by Leigh Montgomery.

To all of the Bataan group who went this weekend, you may not have been with me every step of the way, but I knew you would be there waiting at the finish line. My final time was 8:43:21, which wasn’t what I was hoping for, but I survived the hardest obstacle I have ever experienced. Under the heavy category, those who carried 35 plus pounds on their backs, I placed 3^rd out of 11 women in my age group 20-29 and 136 out of 291 men and women. It is still sinking in what we just accomplished. There is no WOD in our CrossFit programming or training that we could put ourselves through around here that would fully prepare us for the Bataan Death March and the dry desert heat. Recounting our experience does not truly grasp what we endured during the Bataan Death March. This is something that you have to experience for yourself to fully understand just how difficult it is. I am grateful for all of our military men and women who face much worse on a daily basis in order to protect our country. Thank you all!

Heather Hofstetter - 24

Spring Branch, TX

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint”.    – Isaiah 40:31

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”.  – Philippians 4:13

"We’re the Battling Bastards of Bataan. No mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam. No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces. No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces. And nobody gives a damn!”  - Frank Hewlett 1942

Bataan...Heather Hofstetter...Part 2...

For the first 8 miles I was surprisingly meeting Mike, Tommy, Jason, and Brandon B. at each water station. I felt a sense of pride that I was able to some what keep up with these amazing athletes for this long. I think I surprised them at one point when they realized I was a little ahead of them between mile 4 and 6. I remember the humor as they passed me like they always do and told me that I “was making them look bad”. Brandon B. asked how I was feeling and I told him that I felt good, but all the dust from the course was making it hard to breathe. He offered me a bandana, but I told him I had one in my rucksack and that I would get it out when I stopped. Every time I saw these men they would check up on me and ask how I was feeling. When I got to mile 6 and took my ruck off as I walked up to the guys, Brandon B told me that I might want to take an EFS (Electrolyte Fuel System) shot. I kept to my plan and took the EFS shot along with 6 individual cups of water that the volunteers were handing out. I watched the guys take off as I rested a bit more and didn’t think I’d see them again after that. Rested another couple minutes, put my rucksack back on and took off once again.

 

From mile 6 to mile 8 the course was slightly uphill and I could definitely feel it in my backside. When I came up on mile 8 I didn’t see any of the guys at first until I got to the porta potties.  I could hear the worry once again in Mike’s voice as he told me at mile 8 that I needed to, “drink more water, more than you think you need”. The rest of the guys asked how I was doing and vice versa and shortly after they took off. This was the last time I saw Mike, Tommy, Jason, and Brandon B. I rested a couple minutes more as I drank water and used the porta potty then threw my ruck back on and went back to it.

Leigh, Jennifer, and Heather overhead squatting the day before the race. Photo by Brandon D.

Right after mile 8 there was an underpass where I saw Clay Pilkilton and his cousin Brandon Denham. I walked and talked with them for a minute and Clay asked me if I was going to do my intervals on the uphill portion. I told him that’s the plan and told them that I had to get back to it and that I would see them in a little bit. Well, this plan quickly changed as I progressed up the hill. Brandon and Clay weren’t far behind and it seemed like every time I would run ahead and then start walking again they would quickly catch up. To save energy I started to walk with them and stayed with them from about mile 8 ½ to some where between mile 15 and mile 16. Clay and Brandon D. checked up on me numerous times to see how I was doing and vice versa. Around mile 14 I took another EFS shot to see if I could gain some energy back and continued to drink 6-8 cups of water at each water station. Not too long after I asked the guys if they were fine with me doing intervals again and they told me to go ahead.

As I set off on my own again I started my 35 seconds on and 75 seconds off back up, but now the uphill portion turned into rolling hills. If I was on a downhill portion and my timer went off for me to start walking I continued to run just so that I could cover more ground. I felt pretty good and at one point on top of one of the hills I could see the military base and the highway, which was a nice sight to see. The trail stayed hard packed sand until mile 18 when we came back out onto the road and started to head downhill without the rolling hills. I kept to my intervals pretty well, but again was trying to run downhill as much as I could to cover more ground.

As I continued my intervals downhill from mile 18 to mile 20 it became extremely hot from the sun beaming down on the desert and I could feel it reflecting off the sand and asphalt. You couldn’t escape it and there was absolutely no shade or breeze what so ever. There were, however, some misters set up around mile 19 that gave every participant a little break from the heat. Even if it was for just a moment it felt really good to cool down a bit.

On mile 20 there was another water station with cots lined up. I grabbed a couple things of water and Gatorade from one of the volunteers, sat down on one of the cots, and took my ruck off to rest for just a couple minutes. One of the volunteers came up asked me if I was ok and I really didn’t want to say anything to her, but the words just slipped out of my mouth. I told the girl that I was a little nauseous thinking that maybe it was from the EFS shot earlier or gulping down water and Gatorade too fast. The girl told me, “ok, let’s go into the med tent and get you out of the sun for a bit”. I really didn’t want to and I really just wanted to keep moving, all of you who actually know me know exactly how stubborn I am, but I didn’t argue with the girl. I followed her into the tent and it felt so good to get out of the sun and lay on a cot. 

The girl went and got me some more Gatorade while one of the medics came over and started to ask me questions about my medical history and how I am feeling. I just told him I feel a little nauseous so he took my pulse, which ended up being 112 beats per minute. The medic told me that my heart was beating really fast and that it sounded a little off. I really wanted to tell him, “well I am running with 35#’s on my back in the middle of the desert in March”, but I just listened. He told me what really concerned him was the fact that I wasn’t sweating, something that had escaped my attention. He then proceeded to tell me that I am showing all signs of heat exhaustion and asked me what I wanted to do. The only thing that I kept thinking was that I have trained for months for this and that I am 6.2 miles from the finish line and that I will be damned if I am not going to get there. I told the extremely nice medic that I wanted to finish and that I was going to be pretty pissed if I didn’t. He told me ok and gave me some more water and Gatorade and had me eat an orange. There was an actual doctor on duty so he also checked me out and felt my arms, which were apparently extremely hot. He told the medic that we needed to get my body temperature down and to put water on me. 

Who knew rubber gloves could be so refreshing?

This is the fun part, the medic got a rubber glove and poked holes in it, then poured a bottle of water in to the glove, and sprayed my entire body with the “improvised mister system”. They proceeded to douse me with water three separate times to get my body heat down. I kept looking out the to the road to see if Clay and Brandon D. were out there or passing by, but I never saw them. After about 30-45 minutes of cooling down and getting my vitals back to normal they finally released me. I was never incoherent and I was even joking around with some of the medics, but I did feel much better. Told them all thank you and went back at it.

Bataan...Heather Hofstetter...The Beginning...

Nerves were on edge days before “game day” as Levi would put it. So many things raced through my mind and I didn’t really grasp how huge participating in the Bataan Death March was until the night of our going away party. We had been training for months in all types of climates, such as cold, rainy, windy, hot and humid. We trained by running many rolling hills and short and steep hills. I felt ready and was hoping to finish between 7 hours to 7:30. A fellow CrossFitter told me to think of Isaiah 40:31 when the day came, “but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint”. Another fellow CrossFitter read this same verse out loud at our going away party. While packing for the trip I wrote verse Isaiah 40:31 and Philippians 4:13 out on a piece of paper and stuck it in my purse.

We all met up at the Comal CrossFit box Friday at noon where we threw everyone’s rucksack in the back of Clay’s truck along with cooler’s and the rest of our luggage. Clay, his cousin Brandon D., Leigh, and myself were to drive to El Paso Friday and then meet up with the rest of the group the next morning as they flew in. Everything went great and all made it to El Paso safely. The next morning the rest of the group met us at the hotel in El Paso, loaded everything back into the vehicles, and we headed out for Las Cruces. As we checked into the hotel in Las Cruces you could immediately spot fellow participants of the Bataan Death March. It was truly inspiring to see a group of men who were amputees and to know that these men would be participating in the March. We left the hotel, went and ate some carbs, and headed to the White Sands Missile Range to pick up our packets. As we drove up to the military base Clay pointed out parts of our trail, giving us a glimpse of where we would be rucking on Sunday. We got our registration packets, walked around the museum for a bit, and then headed back to the hotel in Las Cruces.

Heather and the Guys. From Left: Levi, Heather, Mike, Brandon B., Clay, Doc, Tommy, Jason, and Brandon D.

            Saturday night at dinner I felt drained. I’ve never really been a great traveler and usually get bad jet lag. Between my poor traveling skills and being tired of carb loading, I ended up holding up part of the wall while I sat in the booth and listened to everyone’s conversation. I was nervous that this fatigue would carry over into Sunday, the worst day possible to feel a lack of energy. Later on we were doing our final check off to make sure everything was in our rucksacks. Clay and Brandon D. were my check off buddies and thankfully fixed my ruck to where it was completely off of my butt, which saved me from pain in my lower back on race day. My energy at this point was thankfully much higher than earlier as I prepared for the early morning. As I laid my clothes out for the next day and grabbed my bib number I remembered that I had the verse Isaiah 40:31 and Philippians 4:13 in my purse. I took the piece of paper and duct taped it to the back of my bib number so that if in any time of doubt I could look down and read it.

            3:00 a.m. came very quickly, but we were all ready to get the show on the road. As we entered the military base it was hard to believe that the day had finally come. We all parked and met up at the soccer field with thousands of other participants. As I looked around during the opening ceremony at the other participants I noticed an astounding number of soldiers dressed in full uniform. These men and women reminded me of the significance of the Bataan Death March. We were here to honor those who had fallen, those who had survived this tragedy, and those who were lost in the meantime. After the opening ceremony we gave Leigh and Jennifer one last hug and told them we would see them later and took off towards the start line. This was the last time I saw Levi and Srdj.

Heather and Mike minutes before the start of the race.

            As the crowd broke up and everyone started moving along, I started running. My plan was to do intervals through out the marathon of running for 35 seconds and walking quickly for 75 seconds (35 on/75 off). I also had it in my mind that if I was feeling good enough and I was going downhill that I would continue to run in order to gain a little time because I knew that the long uphill portion of the course would slow me down tremendously. Another part of the plan was to take an EFS (Electrolyte Fuel System) shot every 6 miles. I planned on being alone after we started and not seeing any of the guys until the finish line since they were all faster than me. We hadn’t gone far past the start line before I saw Jason Moseley. I didn’t see anyone else until I turned around and there was Mike Hoge, Tommy Williams, and Brandon Bonser. As they passed me Mike told me, “stick to your intervals, it’s what you do”. I knew what he really wanted to tell me was, “be careful and don’t overdo it because you have a long way to go”. As I finally fixed my intervals and was continuing on I looked around at the scenery. It was beautiful, the sun was coming up and the mountains were in the background of the open desert.

Bataan...Brandon Bonser...Honor To Meet The Real Heroes...

While out there on the course, I imagined what it was like for those who endured the real Bataan Death March during WWII.  I had studied the books, read the blogs and watched the documentaries.  I thought I had a pretty good feel for what those guys experienced and I was ready to try and visualize their plight during the race.  At the peak of my agony (which was in full swing during the last 5 miles or so!), I became witness to myself from a distance and took note of my state-of-the-art gear, the aid stations every 2 miles with cool Gatorade & fresh fruit, sunscreen, UV glasses, compression socks and so on…  

With great clarity I came to realize that my Bataan experience, although a tribute to heroes, was merely a recreational event and thanks to those brave men, and others like them who have served our county, and continue to do so, I will never struggle as they did!  Attempting to imagine the pain they experienced was a wasted effort.  Forty minutes after this great epiphany I found myself having crossed the finish line and waiting for us under a tent were ten or so of the remaining Bataan survivors.  It was truly a humbling experience to shake each man’s hand- the REAL heroes of Bataan!  

Bataan Survivors. The Real Heroes.

On a special note, I’d like to comment on the great company I found myself with leading up to, and during this event.  Having played team sports throughout my life, it’s always a special bond that’s developed amongst friends & teammates when they suffer together.  I’d like to thank you guys, my friends, for all your long hours of training and preparation.  We suffered together alright!  There is no way any of us would have done as well as we did having gone through that alone and that’s what friendship is all about!   

Bataan...In The Words Of Brandon Denham...

  When I started my training with my cousin clay I had no idea what to expect or what to do at that point. I was just doing it to support my cousin with no intention of competing in Bataan. After several rucks Clay brought up the idea of me joining him in New Mexico. I was very hesitant knowing that I had just started my training a few weeks prior. I gave it several weeks to think about my decision and decided to give it a go. I kicked up the seriousness of my training with my cousin, and a few weeks later Clay and I where on our way to meet everyone at Comal Crossfit. After a long drive full of laughs and music with some great company we made it Bataan.


         The day arrived and it all got real. We arrived at White Sands Missile Range, battled traffic and parked.  I didn't realized that a pre ruck march would be required just to get us to the starting area. Upon arriving, the site of possibly the largest American flag I've ever seen was the first thing in site.  The opening ceremonies where amazing to say the least, from the paratroopers to the mortar rounds. It was a cool but knowing what was coming was still on my mind. The time came to put one foot in front of the other. Our group worked our way through the pack to get started. Our foot chip activated and we were off.

Mile 1-7 was mostly uneventful for me, just mostly dust in my face, and dirt my shoes was all there was to speak of. The time came to attack the hill, I can't begin to tell you how much I underestimated the hill. It seemed to NEVER end. About mile 11 my right foot was starting to give me a lot of problems due to a blister the size of Texas. Why a waited till mile 14 to address the issue I will never know. It was probably because I wanted to get the hill over with. At the rest stop at mile 14, I swapped out my socks and shoes which made a huge but very temporary difference. The relief only lasted a few miles, and after that the suck never ended. From mile 14 to 18 was just a continues trek through loose dirt sand and rock with steep changes in elevation until you finally hit the pavement back down the hill.

Photo Taken by Brandon D. during Bataan. Mile unknown.

          At the following med/water station everything hit me at once from the dehydration and heat exhaustion that my cousin had been facing to seeing the various IV bags that others had been holding. This was truly a test of physical and mental strength. A battle that I watched my cousin beat the crap out of for the past 18 miles he showed that he was a damn beast,  never letting the hills and terra ferma get the best of him. We pushed through and hit the sand pit which is really just a sick joke, from a sick bastard that put it there. All I have to say to the sand pit is...(I edited the last portion, but you get the idea of how Brandon felt about the infamous Sand Pit. ~ Levi)

 Mile 21 arrived and I never saw the next marker, but I felt like I was going on for ever. I seriously thought they forget a few markers and the next one read mile 23 and a string of profanity flew out of my mouth that seemed to never end. Seeing the number 23 destroyed me mentally, but I knew that I had to keep going. At this point I had to change my stride so the pain in my feet would become less of walking on the surface of the sun, and more like walking though burning welding rods. Due to the change in my stride it increased the distance between me and my cousin which I didn't want, but I feel couldn't be avoided. I finally reached mile 25, and by the way seeing that you can go straight instead of making a u turn in front of water tower made me want to cry like baby, but I pushed on to the longest rock wall I have ever seen in my life, which finally arrived to a fence where I stopped to talk to the crew from Comal County. They told me to finish strong but I wouldn't do it alone. I waited there for my cousin to catch up when he did a few minutes later I told him I walked across the start line with you and I'm not crossing the finish with out you.

Brandon D. and his cousin Clay at the White Sands Museum the day before the race. Photo by Heather Hofstetter.

The race was done I finished in 8:28:06. I felt very proud of what I had just done, and even more proud of all the people that had joined in the fun. Mike, Tommy, Doc, Brandon, Jason and Levi; damn y'all killed it. Heather, you are very impressive. A tiny woman with a huge heart, carrying a huge ruck up a huge hill and never gave up. Your're a badass. Last but not least, Clay we never talked a lot growing up, but It was great getting to know you all over again. I thank you for everything you helped me through to make my goal achievable. You killed the course and everything that stepped in your way. You're a beast, and I love you. I'm proud to say you're family and my best friend.

Bataan...Mike Hoge...His Story...

My wife will sometimes pick on me for being a little over emotional (for a man). Although I'm no where near as bad as her, I admit I do have a tendency to tear up over certain things (ever seen steel magnolias), or succumb to a nostalgic moment every now and then. Race day would be no different.

   So there we were, the morning of the race, the day we all had been preparing for. Everyone had that look in their eyes, everyone knew what we were about to do, there was excitement, anticipation, and even fear in our faces (mostly Tommy's).    

  The opening ceremonies started with a bang, 3 sky divers jumped from a plane high above us and came rocketing towards the earth, lit up with flames trailing behind them, they looked like shooting stars, it was awesome! The jumpers eventually landed right in front if us, in a clearing in the middle of everyone. There was a brief description about the history of Bataan, a couple songs, a couple guest speakers,  the usual type stuff. Then came the roll call.

Paratroopers coming in during opening ceremonies. Photo by Heather Hofstetter.

    The whole reason for being there that morning all of the sudden became very real to me.  As the names were called out each remaining living survivor sounded off with a tired and worn-out "here" into the microphone for all the crowd to hear. After the living members sounded off, the names of the survivors who had passed away since the last memorial march were called out. Complete silence followed each name. I don't remember how many names were read, all I recall was the silence seemed to go on for ever. During this time I began to think about the word they used, "Here" and what it meant. These men were literally still "here" after all these years, they had survived. They had survived Bataan and they had survived life, they where here right in front of us, alive. The vast majority of their brothers where not "here" anymore, and the reality of it was, next year, there will be silence to follow some of their names as well. Would their story live on even when they are all gone. There I was getting all emotional again. But I'd be willing to bet I wasn't the only one in the crowed that morning who got a little caught up in the moment.

     The race went great! Very beautiful scenery! The mountain, the hills, the sand pit, the heat, the sun, the dust and the difficulty were all as advertised! Pretty friggin miserable! In times of pain, nausea and exhaustion I thought about my training and how much we had prepared and it gave me the confidence to keep moving. There was one part however that I had read so much about but still very much underestimated. This would be our true test today. 

Mike Hoge at the Mile 5 Marker. Photo by Brandon Bonser.

     In all the blogs and recounts I read everyone talked about the last two miles and how grueling they were. "They just go on and on", "I thought it would never end" were some of the quotes I read. I just figured this was a common theme with every marathon and sort of blew it off. You see, the last two miles of the Bataan memorial death march follow the perimeter wall of the white sands community. Its a 9 foot tall rock wall and you can't see over it. All you can see is the 200yd stretch of dusty trail in front of you, the wall to your left, and miles of desolate desert and mountain to your right. We would push hard to near the end of the wall, thinking it would lead us to the finish. Only to turn the corner and find out there was another 300yd dusty stretch of sandy road just waiting for us along this miserable wall. At this point in the march, Tommy, Jason, Brandon, and my self had been running for about six and a half hours with our rucks on our back doing everything they could to slow us down. We knew there were less than 2 miles to go and we would have sprinted it if we could have. But that wasn't happening. Running 50 yards at a time was all we could manage at that point. For me in particular it was my right calf that kept me from going anywhere very quickly. A calf cramp feels like someone snuck up behind you out of no where and jammed a fillet knife into your muscle. I had anticipated getting them and knew they would come eventually. It became impossible to run and each time it struck I had to stop and literally pound on my calf with my fist to get it to subside. My team mates never left my side. When ever I'd stop, they'd stop, when ever they'd stop, I would stop.  

During this two mile song and dance with my screaming calf muscle I thought about the "Battling Bastards of Bataan". I thought about how those men were starving, dehydrated, malnourished, and diseased. And surely cramping in more places than just their calf. I remembered what I read about how when they'd crumble from exhaustion or fall down and couldn't get up they were stabbed with bayonets or beaten to death by the Japanese soldiers. The able ones were forced to dig holes and bury their sick and exhausted friends alive or else they would kill several more as consequence. These men had no Gatorade stations, no power bars, and no medical tents along the way. They had no idea of their fate, when it would all end, or even if it would all end. My end was less than 2 miles ahead, and it was filled with cheering people, food, water, medical care, and loved ones. We had no excuses at all. I drew strength from their story, and the pain they endured, and it got me to the end. There I was, once again, getting all emotional, even after 26.2 miles in the dry desert, all sun burnt, dehydrated, and exhausted. We were so happy to be finished. 

     I truly believe the last 2 miles were planned like that just to give us a little tiny taste of what it was like to be there in that hell. We felt like the race would never end. Around each corner was another corner up ahead, and another after that and another after that. Just like them we couldn't see the finish line. All we could do was just keep on going. But unlike them we chose to be there, if we were thirsty we drank, hungry we ate, if we couldn't go on anymore someone would have helped us. They had none of this. These men and all others who have given their lives and endured terrible suffering so that we can live free are owed our utmost respect and gratitude. We owe it to them to never let their story or memory die.

       I am very happy, and proud to say I had the privilege of shaking the hands of a few of these men at the finish line. I had an absolute blast on this trip and during our training. I got to be around some of the best people I know! You guys are my brothers (and sister, heather) and I love all of you.  Leigh & Jennifer we can't thank you enough for all your help and support during the event. Clay, thank you for trucking all our junk 9 hours with you so we wouldn't have to mess with it. Kelly, Allie and mamah thank you for allowing me to take ENTIRE DAYS out of our  weekends to train for this thing, missing birthdays, dinners, and family get togethers! Levi, thank you for being a great leader and training partner to us we can't thank you enough!  Now that it's all over, I would definitely recommend this event to all that read this and think they want to try it. It's a real SOB!

Bataan...The Clay Pilkilton Perspective...

I would like to preface this story with a quick thank you to God, to my wife and little girl, to my cousin who stayed by my side, to the men and women from Comal Crossfit who shared this experience with me, to my friends and family who supported me through this and to all our servicemen past and present for the freedoms that we all enjoy today.  The following is a true story….

Telling someone that the Bataan Memorial Death March is hard is like telling someone who has never been to the Grand Canyon how big it is.  They  get the general concept but will never truly understand what you are talking about unless they go there.  Now I don’t mean to discredit anyone else’s accomplishments or accolades but this is not your typical marathon.  I have great respect for those who have run 26.2 but the only thing that the BMDM has in common with a regular marathon is the distance.  

I started training for the march in September of last year.  I started slow by only rucking short distances at a time getting my body used to having 40+ pounds on me for miles at a time.  By the time December came around I was rucking 15+ miles at a time, or as Levi would call it “being in deep water”.  In January I asked my cousin Brandon if he wanted to start training and possibly do Bataan with me.  He agreed and off we went.  We trained for a couple of months before Bataan.  Our training rucks went very well and we were confident that when we got to New Mexico we weren’t going to have any problems.

The morning of the event we were supposed to get up at 3 am to get our rucks checked and tape-up our feet before we headed off for White Sands Missile Range.  I was woken at 2am when our hotel room a/c had some sort of epileptic fit and started making all sorts of weird noise.  I couldn’t sleep after that so I got hosed out of an hours sleep.   At 4am we loaded up the trucks and vans and our convoy headed out to base.

We finally got onto base and parked at about 530am.  The parking this year was a half mile from the starting point so they had shuttles taking marchers from parking to the stadium for opening ceremonies.  We decided to ruck up and just walk.  It was actually good because it gave me a good stretch and warm up before the event started.  We got to stadium, found our corral and stood together as a group waiting for the ceremonies to start.

The opening ceremonies were great.  Very emotional and truly made me proud to be an American standing beside the men and women of our armed forces.  The opening ceremonies helped get my mind focused on what we were about to do and who we were doing it for.  The ceremony lasted for about 45 minutes but only felt like 5.  Before I knew we were all putting on our rucks, getting strapped up, shaking each other’s hands and wishing each other good luck.  We started walking towards the starting line as a massive artillery gun was being fired behind us.  You could hear the boom echo off the mountains with a loud quick clap and was pretty motivating to ruck to that sound.

Clay Driving On At Bataan. Mile Unknown. Photo by Brandon Denham

We hit the starting line and with a few beeps ours racing chips were activated and we were off.  Normally Brandon and I don’t run when we first start out but there were so many people that we wanted to try and get closer to the front of the crowd.  We kept a pretty good pace until Mile 1 when the crowd thinned just a little bit allowing us some breathing room and we were able to continue our normal ruck pace which is usually about 15 min/mile.  Miles 1-6 were pretty uneventful.  It was dusty and the sun was rising in the east and heating everything up.  Our pace was quicker than normal since it was pretty much a slight downhill slope the whole way.  Miles 6-8 were basically the base slope of the mountain we would be climbing up later but they weren’t that bad.  It was just a little slope over a couple of miles.  At mile 8, Brandon and I passed the Mike, Jason, Tommy, Brando and Heather  and felt pretty good about ourselves.  We decided not to stick with our plan and stop but just slow down to a snail’s pace so we could rest but keep making forward progress.  This was about the time that things started to get bad for me…..

I never had any water in my Camelbak, just an electrolyte juice mix and that was how I had trained all my previous months before.  I found out quickly that the New Mexican sun is very unforgiving on stupid people like me don’t drink water like they should.  Dehydration and heat exhaustion started to kick in hard for me at about mile 9.  These are the dark times.  I kept feeling like I wanted to vomit, my stomach was cramping, I was getting a headache, my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest and my vision was a little blurry in my peripheral.  I must have looked pretty awful because my cousin kept asking me if I was ok and what I needed.  I wasn’t even thinking straight and kept telling him I was fine and just wanted to get over this hill.

Somewhere around mile 10 we met Heather and when she saw me asked me if I was ok.  I said “no” and we kept moving.  She told me that I needed to drink water and at the first water station made me sit down and chug about 5 cups.  That helped a bit but I think I was already pretty dehydrated after 10 miles of no water.  We still had about 3.5 miles of hill to climb and the next water station wasn’t for another 2 miles.  We left that water station at about a 20 min/mile pace.  My nausea came back full force, my back started cramping like never before and all my peripheral vision just went away.  I kept telling Heather and Brandon to just leave me and that I would catch up later.  They absolutely refused and stuck with me the whole way up that hill. 

It’s a weird thing watching the internal struggle of your will power.  I felt like I had a ring side seat while my desire to quit and my will to succeed battled it out.  There was no shade on the god awful hill but about mile 11 things seemed dark.  Everywhere around me looked shaded like enormous clouds were overhead blocking the sun.  I remember looking up and wondering where all this shade was coming from when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.  I wanted so badly to stop, sit on the side of the road and wait for a medic.  Everything in my body and mind was screaming for me to stop.  I had no more water, all you could see was a line of people climbing for miles ahead and I kept having the nagging realization that maybe I wasn’t strong enough to finish this race.

I don’t know if Brandon and Heather were talking at all because everything was muffled.  All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart in my ears.  At one point Heather turned to me asked me something but I couldn’t hear her, I could see her lips moving but nothing was coming out.  I told them I needed to take a second to catch my breath and stood off on the side of the road looking at the desert valley behind us.  My mind went to a very dark place.  I’m not going to tell you what went on in my head but I can tell you I never want to be there again.  Without any words we kept moving.  I was fairly certain that at the next rest station I was just going to go the med tent and have them call a transport.  We finally made it to the water station and I sat down in a chair and chugged water for about 5 minutes.  Some of the darkness went away and I kept drinking more water and pouring it on my head.  In the chair next to me was some 20 something army dude who was expressing his opinions on the suck factor of the hill.  I agreed with him completely and we grabbed more water and set off.  We had about 2 more miles of hill at this point and the asphalt turned back into a sand road.  I don’t remember much about mile 11-13.1.  I know we went slow and the hill went on forever.  I know it was hot and there was no breeze and all I wanted to do was get that stupid ruck off my back.  The thought of quitting crossed my mind several times.  I just kept thinking that if I could just get to 13.1 the whole course was downhill from there (it wasn’t).  We got to the top of the hill and just accomplishing that made me feel way better and really helped my mental focus and morale.  At the top of the hill we saw that army dude laying in the sand sprawled out under some thorny bush trying to get some shade.  We never saw him again.  We made it to mile 14 and there was a hamburger stand.  I couldn’t believe how many people I saw standing around munching on a hamburger.  I drank about 10 cups of water and choked down a smashed PBJ.  It was nasty but since we hadn’t eaten anything I figured it would be good fuel. 

Onward we pressed.  Mile 14-16 were downhill and the breeze kicked up a little at that point.  Between the water, food, downhill slope and breeze things started looking up.  At mile 16 heather decided to go back to her interval running and she took off into the crowd like the badass she is.  This dog had NO running left in him.  The volunteers at mile 16 had pitchers of ice water and I decided to dump all that electrolyte drink out of my camelback and fill it with ice water.  Why I didn’t dump that extra 5 pounds sooner I don’t know.

Miles 16-18 were a sucky combo of little ups and downs in loose sand.  I was starting to feel like myself again and when we got to mile 17 I told Brandon that we only 9 miles left.  He told me in a very inappropriate manner what I could do with those 9 miles and how long I could do it for.  We weren’t talking a whole lot, not because we were mad at each other, we were just mentally beat up and exhausted at that point.  It amazed me how everyone was loud, talkative and smiling and happy at mile 2 and everyone looked like beat up dust covered zombies by this point.  I also started noticing how many people were walking funny by this point.  Blisters were a huge issue and at least 1 in 10 people were doing the blister shuffle. 

We got to mile 18 and back to the pavement.  At this point you were still high up on the hill and had a commanding view of the valley before you.  My feet had been on fire for a good 5 miles so we decided to take off our rucks and have a seat.  We found some military cots set up on the side of the road and laid down for about 3 minutes.  I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing it felt to lay down.  I didn’t want to get back up at all.  I knew I had to and since I was starting to feel better Brandon and I popped a few electrolyte caps, donned our rucks and started downhill.

Miles 18-20 were all downhill on pavement.  I don’t remember at all what we talked about but I know we were talking again.  Being able to kill 2 miles out of the race downhill made me very happy.  I just kept thinking that those miles were just a nice way to end that hill.  Even though we cruising at a good clip a few things really started bothering me.  My left shoulder was starting to kill me.  I took all the weight off my left shoulder and put it on my right strap and adjusted my weight belt to distribute more weight to my hips.  Going downhill with my ruck strapped like that wasn’t a problem.  I knew that the sand pit was coming up and I remember thinking that maybe this year they changed it.  Maybe, the race coordinators this year got lazy and decided that it just wasn’t worth all the effort to make that sand pit. They didn’t forget.

Clay Near The Finish. Photo By Leigh Montgomery

The “sand pit”, as it is affectionately, called is 1 mile, mostly uphill, of ankle deep kitty litter sand with 0 hard spots or packed sand.  Any energy that you had left will get sucked out of your body immediately.  That sand was hot, dirty and shifted every time you took a step.  My shoulder was killing me but now since I was trying to compensate by putting the weight on my hips they were starting to cramp as well.  That nausea feeling came back and twice as hard.  I started vomiting a little every time I was drinking water.  Just thinking about drinking water made me want to vomit.  I had to dig deep again, the proverbial happy place that you can go to in your mind when things got bad. The problem was that my happy place was gone.  I couldn’t think straight anymore.  Basically I went in to survival mode, my brain shut down except for some primal urge to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  We made it through the sand pit to mile 22. 

I don’t remember much about mile 22-24.  I remember being glad it was a long straight path to the base from there.  The wind had picked up and was blowing sand into our faces.  At this time my peripheral vision went away again, things got dark again, my shoulder, hips, feet, knee and back were on fire and my shoe came untied.  I cannot even tell you how unbelievably mad I was at the world that my shoe came untied.  Taking my ruck off to tie my shoe scared me.  I honestly didn’t know if I was going to be able to put it back on.  I dumped all the sand out of my shoes and re-tied them and sat there on the side of the trail for a little bit.  I knew I only had about 3.5 miles to go but that seemed like an eternity.  Brandon helped me put my ruck back on and I remember that’s when I started getting dizzy.  Walking in a straight like got goofy for a little bit.  I don’t remember walking to mile 23 but I remember I flicked off the mile 23 mile marker.

Mile 24 Brandon’s feet were killing him and he couldn’t keep up my slow pace anymore.  He changed his stride to be more on his toes and he took off in front of me.  I was ok with it since we weren’t talking anyway.  The thing that did suck was that I forgot my earphones so I had no music the whole time I was rucking. Mile 24-26 is along the rock fence that surrounds the base.  It lasted forever.  You were right there at the base and at certain places you could hear the crowds cheering but you were still nowhere near the finish line.  All along the wall were soldiers sitting down in the shade (the first shade they had seen in 8 hours).  I kept wondering why these guys were sitting down when they were less than a mile from the finish line.  I dug deep as deep as I could for the last bit of strength that I had.  When the 26 mile marker came into sight I got an overwhelming rush of emotion.  I truly had tears in my eyes.  If I had any fluid left in my body I might have cried.  I wasn’t happy or sad.  It came over me like a wave and then receded just as fast.  About 100 yards from the finish line Brandon was standing there waiting for me.  He had told me that no matter what we would cross the finish line together and stayed true to his word.  We finished in 8 hours 28 minutes.  I had packed 12 pounds of food, shoes, socks etc. in my ruck and planned on getting rid of the food by eating it but since I was sick the whole time I never got a chance to get rid of that stuff.  My ruck weighed 47 pounds when they weighed it.

Clay Doing Well After The Race. Photo by Leigh Montgomery

 I wanted a sub 8 hour time but after the misery I went through I’m happy just to cross the finish line.  Even writing this 2 days later I am still trying to hydrate and recover.  The Bataan Memorial Death March (BMDM) was physically and mentally the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life.  Until this march I had never pushed myself to the breaking point so hard for so long.  I gave all I had and left a part of myself in the desert.  Time to start training for my next marathon……

Bataan...It Is Done...

As I left the sand pit and attempted to gather my wits, I began to become aware of yet another mentally challenging part of the course. Miles 21-23 were a long, straight, and boring stretch of sandy tank trail that led to the actual military post of White Sands Missile Range. I had read about how, although this stretch is not difficult in the sense of being overly hilly or sandy, it just seems to go on forever. It was an extremely straight stretch of lightly rolling hills where you could see the post water tower in the distance.

For many others that had competed in the Bataan Memorial Death March this water tower in the distance has served as nice little "mind game", because it is off in the distance where the finish line is, but by this point in the race you are going so slow that it seems you can never get there. The water tower is that big carrot at the end of the stick, but it just never comes.

I once again have to say though, because both myself and the other individuals I trained with were so prepared, this water tower off  in the distance was no surprise to me. We had read many post-race reports from other people, and many of them mentioned the water tower, and how frustrating it was to look toward it. I decided to do my best to keep my head down on this long and sandy straightaway. I tried to adopt the "out of site - out of mind" mentality. If I don't look at the water tower, it won't bother me.

As I mentioned in the last blog entry, the "Sand Pit" had sucked every ounce of my "third wind" from me, and as expected, the speed of my pace had dropped considerably.  With the rolling hills, there were several stretches where it was ideal for me to try and run. I was able to, but the tank was on empty, and every step took more and more effort than the one before. Good thing for me the mile 22 water point was in the middle of this stretch, and I was almost there.

Each mile along the course was marked. This helped me
to keep focused on the next mile, and not on the race as
a whole. Breaking it up into manageable segments was
critical to my thought process. (Photo by Brandon Bonser)

As I approached the mile 22 water point I took notice of a couple of "heavy" teams that I came up on. I had caught up to the boys from BYU once again. They were still moving along, but a couple of them had a pretty good limp and were really struggling. I told them that the 6 hour mark was still within reach, and to do their best to drive on. Shortly after I passed the BYU young bucks, I came upon the team from the 2nd Ranger Battalion and slowly passed them as well. I will be honest, looking back at this, I think it gave me a little pick me up when I was able to pass these two teams up. It was looking like this 36 year old man could still hang with these young bucks after all. I do need to say though, that although I crossed the finish line and had a faster "clock time" than both of these heavy teams did, their chip times were better than mine by about 2 minutes. This means that I started the race before they did. Clock times and chip times are very common in larger races.

There was still going to be about another mile of sandy straightaway until the trail made a slight right turn toward the main post of White Sands. I again began to do everything I could to maintain the walk the inclines, and run the flat and downhill portions. It was however, getting harder and harder to do so. I finally made the slight right turn where the mile 23 marker should have been. I kept going and looking for the marker with the "23" on it. I kept going and still didn't see it. I finally asked another man that was near me, and he said that he had seen it a while back. I don't know how I missed it, but I knew now that the end was getting close. Less than 3 miles to go.

Looking back on it now, I don't really know if I thought I could simply "gut" the last few miles out, or if I thought that they would be a complete grind. I think in many marathons, as you get closer and closer to the finish line a few things happen. You can see the crowds, hear the loud speakers, and it generally climaxes as the finish line gets closer. There was none of that at Bataan. The last 3 miles skirted a rock wall that went around the White Sands housing area. It was tough to deal with, because it all looked the same. You were just marching or trying to run beside a rock wall. You would look up, and there would be more wall. You would make it around a corner hoping to see something different, but there would always just be more wall. I hated that brick wall. The wall also served as a spot for some of the White Sands residents to sit there and watch you as you went by. They really didn't say anything, they would just look at you. You would see a group of people sitting on the wall, pass them, and look up a bit later and see another group sitting on the wall. It all looked the exact same, so I felt that I was making no progress whatsoever. Mentally, I knew that I was covering ground, but there was never anything to show for your effort. Just more wall with groups of people looking at you scattered on top of it. The wall was mentally draining.

This was something that I admit, that I did not mentally prepare myself for. I knew the wall was going to be there, but I didn't fully appreciate how taxing it would be to walk and run beside this wall. I know that it had to do with me being so physically and mentally exhausted from the first 23 miles, but it really is difficult to explain. The wall seemed to go on forever. You would hope that the next turn you made, you would see the huge cheering crowds that the finish line would bring, but it never happened. Every corner just brought more and more wall.

At this point in the race there were two things that I feel pushed me through to completion. As I have mentioned before, at this point in the race it was very difficult to keep going. I just wanted to stop and take the ruck sack off of my back. I don't at all mean that I wanted to quit the race. That never crossed my mind. What I was ready to do, was take the ruck sack off and rest for a while. I had been going non stop for over 5 hours at this point, and I was flat out exhausted. My total time was looking very good though. By now I had only 2 miles to go before I finished. My total time at that point was about 5 hours and 20 minutes. The under 6 hour finish time was right there for the taking. I just had to knock out those last 2 miles.

The internal dialog I was having with myself was now shifting to am "I can do this." mode. The course was mostly flat at this time, and if I were fresh, I could have run them with ease. I was exhausted though, and every step was tough. It was especially tough to run. It took a tremendous amount of energy to make myself run. I realize to someone reading this that this may sound made up or cheesy, but it is the truth. I didn't plan on doing this, it just happened...I began to think about the survivors of Bataan.

In the book, My Hitch In Hell, the author wrote about how while he was on the Bataan Death March, he broke the march down into very small segments. He would tell himself; "Just make it to that tree up ahead", or "Walk to that bridge." Our soldiers had to do this, because if they stopped they would be executed by the Japanese. I, at this time in the marathon, began to think about those men and how they pushed on. I did the same. Their situation was literally life or death, and please do not think that I would even consider comparing myself to them. I did however, attempt to use the same mental strategy that the author of My Hitch In Hell used. I just set small goals. I would find a telephone pole maybe 100 yards or so down the path, and I would tell myself; "Just run to the telephone pole and then you can walk." I would pick out a point on the brick wall and make it my next goal to run to it. The whole while I was thinking about our men that endured the Bataan Death March. It was surreal. This is what got me through the last miles of the Bataan Memorial Death March.

Me waving to my wife near the finish line. Photo by Leigh Montgomery.

When I hit the mile 25 sign, I did begin to feel a significant amount of emotion, because I knew that I was going to finish in well under 6 hours. All the hours upon hours of training had paid off. I was going to finish Bataan strong. It's really not a stretch to say that I might have savored the last mile just a little. It really was an amazing feeling, and difficult to describe. There is a certain amount of satisfaction that you can feel when you put so much effort into something, and it works out like you had planned. I knew I had done it.

When I saw the mile 26 sign I kept going, and soon I could finally see the finish line. Now my attention began to focus on my wife, and where she would be. Sure enough, I saw her to my left as I began to approach the finish line. I'll write on this later, but the support Leigh gave me through this entire training process was phenomenal. I love her deeply, and of course she was there waiting on me near the finish line. I spotted her, waived, and said "Hey Baby." I then finished the race.

As I crossed the finish line, the Bataan survivors were seated there where we could quickly shake their hands and thank them. I removed my hat, and it was one of the greatest honors of my life to shake the hands of men who survived such a brutal existence for so long. They, along with their Greatest Generation are truly the reason we continue to live in the greatest Nation on the face of the earth.

Weighing and verifying my ruck at the finish line. Photo by Leigh Montgomery. 

Once I finished shaking their hands, I saw Leigh, and we moved to the scale to have my ruck weighed and verified. It was officially weighed in at 38 pounds. After that, Leigh walked me to the finishers tent so I could drink some fluid, get out of the sun, and get off my feet. I had finished the race in 5 hours, 52 minutes, and 12 seconds. My Bataan was over.

Me in the finishers tent after Bataan. Photo by Leigh Montgomery.