Bataan...The Middle Miles...

A good sign that began to take place right before the boys from BYU leapfrogged me was that for the first time during the race I was forced to stop and urinate. Like I had written earlier, the last two water stops I had drank fully, and finally I began to feel that some sense of adequate hydration was being restored. I felt much better at this point than I had just a few minutes before. The footing was still fairly poor, but I was able to return to a run on the down hill portions of the course. As I moved past mile 13, I hit yet another water station, and this time I also ate some of the banana portions they had for the runners. I will write about this at a later time, but the volunteers at Bataan did an outstanding job of staffing the water points.

This is the map of the course I highlighted, made notes on, and studied to make sure I had it memorized on race day. Although I knew how the course was laid out, it was still difficult to completely understand how tough Bataan would be until I actually got my feet on the ground at White Sands Missile Range.

Miles 14-18 were supposed to be downhill according to the maps that I had memorized leading up to the race, and I suppose they were. I will say that this portion looked much easier on paper than it turned out to be. It was downhill, but more of a "rolling" downhill, and the path was sand. I was able to run down the hills, but as they rolled back up, I walked. My plan for the rest of the march was to try and run the downhill and level parts, and walk the inclines. I was still confident in this line of thinking.

It was only getting hotter as the day went along. I began to see more and more U.S. Border Patrol Agents that were riding ATVs checking the course for people that were falling out from heat related complications. They were busy. It seemed that every time an ATV would pass, they would have someone riding on the back. I'm not sure where they were taking those that were falling out from the heat, but at this point in the march is became very evident that the extreme heat, terrain, and simple distance of the march was beginning to take it's toll on many of the marchers. The sound of Blackhawk helicopters overhead also became fairly constant, and the more serious injuries, heat or otherwise, were air lifted off the course.

Around mile 16, I began to play "leapfrog" with another individual heavy marcher. It's funny how when you compete in a race like this, even though there there are thousands of people there, a few really stick out out. I'll call this particular marcher "Numbers Guy". Like I wrote earlier, I don't like to wear headphones when I run so I can be aware of my surroundings and can simply hear. "Numbers Guy" was a physically impressive dude. He was 6'3" or so and probably weighed around 200 pounds. The guy looked like he was in good shape, and he and I were both moving along at a pretty good clip.

As I passed this individual, I could hear him talking to himself. He seemed to be rapidly speaking random numbers. He wasn't counting in any type of sequence that I could figure out, but the numbers he was rapidly speaking to himself seemed to be completely out of the blue. "Numbers Guy" and myself were both able to run the flat and downhill portions at a pretty good clip so we "leapfrogged" one another several times. His random numbers were very odd to me, and when I would pass him, I actually tried to listen to him to see if I could figure out what in the world he was counting to. I thought he might have been going over his pace count, but the numbers were so scattered I couldn't make any sense of it. He reminded me of Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. It was really weird. He was going at a fast pace so I don't think there was anything wrong with him physically. For all  I know he might have been a genius that was going over some type of astrophysics in his mind.

This is who "Numbers Guy" reminded me of.

Finally, at around the 18 mile mark, the sandy tank trail looped back to the paved road I had come up 'Mineral Hill" on. There was a water point there that served as the mile 10, and the mile 18 point. Right before getting to the paved road and the water point, there was an electronic "check point" we had to go through so the chip we had attached to our shoe could be scanned. These are common in longer races, and are needed to make sure that people don't cheat and try to cut corners on the course. I walked through the electronic check point and went to quickly drink my fill of Gatorade and water at the water point. This water station was busy. There were still many marchers that were going up the hill, and and as the course doubled back on itself it made for a lot of folks at this station. Since I had been drinking much more now than early in the race, I had to pee yet again. This would be the third time I would have to urinate, and the others had been real quick since I would simply step off the road and pee. At this point though, there were too many women-folk and kids helping at the water station so I, as quickly as I could, stepped into a port-a-potty for what would be my final pee stop of the race.

I felt like I was re-hydrated at this point, and truth be told, believed that I had caught my "third wind". The jousting I had been doing with "Numbers Guy" on the sandy tank trail had done me well. I felt good about where I was time wise, and was ready to get down the hill as fast as I possibly could. One disadvantage to "drinking your fill" at the water point was that I felt that I could vomit after leaving one. As I left the mile 18 point and started running down the hill, I did my best to keep from vomiting, and cramping up. My hamstring was feeling okay, but my lower right thigh was still tight just a bit. Thing is though, that I began to fall back on all the training that I had done for Bataan. I knew this was going to happen, because it had happened in training. These obstacles had been overcome during training, and I firmly believed that, because I trained so hard, I would overcome them in the race. As I began to run down "Mineral Hill", I became fully aware that the mind games  that happen during times of extreme stress were now in full swing.

I don't mean to make these "mind games" sound overly dramatic, but unless you have experienced something similar to this it is very difficult to explain. You enter into a "brain fog" state and begin to have a lot of self talk. I don't mean talking to yourself like "Numbers Guy", but a great deal of internal dialog. It gives me an eerie feeling just writing about it, but as I began to run down the hill, I was very confident in spite of the "mind games", because it had all happened in training. I mentally understood what was going on.

Needless to say, the downhill portion, on a paved road hit the spot. I felt in control of what I was doing, and began to run at a fast pace. I passed many other runners as I made my way down the hill, including "Numbers Guy", and this would be the last time I would see him. At approximately the 19 mile point, an ambulance came screaming down the hill with what I assume was yet another heat injured person. The temperature had only gotten hotter, and many were beginning to feel the effects of the long miles, rugged terrain, and the heat. The course then went under Highway 70 which provided some shade for just a small bit of time. There were several runners that had sat down under the overpass to escape the sun, but I knew there was another water point near mile 20 so I drove on. 

The nice down hill portion changed to more of a rolling hill feel now. I told myself that I would not again waste my energy attempting to run up an incline, so I walked when needed, and made it to the mile 20 water point feeling good. With only 6 miles left to go, I began to think about the possibility of finishing the race in 5 1/2 hours. In training, and setting goals for the race, I believed 5 1/2 hours would be the absolute best time I would be physically able to post. I still had a chance.

After the water point, the course soon veered to the right and entered the the sandy tank trails yet again. I knew that he dreaded "Sand Pit" was coming up. I really didn't quite know what to expect of the "Sand Pit". Leading up to Bataan, I had read dozens of post race reports from other racers that completed Bataan the year before, and most all agreed that the sand pit was fairly difficult for all racers, but especially those in the "heavy" division. It's an approximately 1 mile long stretch, going uphill, where the racer has no alternative but to walk or run in deep sand. The entire width of the trail is extremely sandy, and there's simply no way to avoid it. 

As I veered to the right and on to the tank trail, I still felt good and was able to run the down hill and flat portions just as I had planned. The course soon though quickly changed to deep sand. I had entered the infamous Bataan Memorial Death March "Sand Pit". The best way to describe the sand would be to imagine walking in 4-6 inches of kitty litter. As I began my trek through the uphill mile long stretch of sand, I soon realized there was really no realistic strategy to get through the thing. Running was not even an option. I just had to slowly trudge through the thing. There were probably 3 or 4 other men that I went through the sand pit with. Best I can remember, they were all in the "light" division, and we all moved along at the same pace. As I continued to move along ever so slowly, I could not only feel my "third wind" being sucked out of me, but I became aware that my 5 1/2 hour goal time was not going to happen.

Looking back on it, at that point, I really didn't care about not meeting that particular goal time. The sand was so energy draining, I just wanted to get out of it. Time didn't matter to me. Just like "Mineral Hill" though, the sand pit would eventually end. The difference now though, was that I felt that my tank was completely empty. I did not feel any signs of a "fourth wind" coming on, and the "brain fog" and "mind games" were even more intense now. The last 5 miles were going to be rough.