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.