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Running the 2006 Wild West relay

Contributed by: Michael Rule on 10/18/2006

I hope you all had the chance to read the excellent article about the Denver North High School Cross -country team and their coach a few weeks ago in the Sunday paper. As you might recall, they finished first in the Wild West Relay, a distance running event for teams of six to twelve runners over 200 miles from Ft. Collins to Steamboat Springs held in August. I was on the team that finished 2nd to them. Here's my story.

It was 4:30 in the morning, the rain that had been lightly tapping on the van roof overnight had stopped, but the pre-dawn light revealed the low, threatening clouds overhead. In about one hour I was due to run my third and final leg of the 2006 Wild West Relay. My left calf felt like someone had stuck a knife in it, my stomach was in knots, I hadn't really slept for the last 24 hours, and I was trying to do some simple math.

The van next to me, holding the runners from another team also trying to catch some sleep, had the message "24 feet and 119 toes" written on it. I was trying to figure that out. I was also trying to decide if I should continue in the race or if my team would be better off without me.

Our team was The Colorado Elite, a collection of some of the finest high school and college running talent from the eastern plains to ever be assembled as one team. We had runners from Limon, Peyton, Elizabeth, and Kiowa. In our team of 12 were 9 State Champions. My son was part of this team, and my girlfriend Susan was driving the van. At 48 I was by far the senior member. I had asked that we add the footnote "and one old man" to the team's name, but had been ignored. I had also just experienced two of the worst running moments of my life.

Our team had been assembled for two reasons; to smash the existing Relay record and be the fastest team to finish. In relay racing overall winners aren't recognized as such, but that didn't matter to us. Unfortunately, the Planned Pethood Posse team, assembled by the Denver North High School cross-country coach, and made up of some of his current and former runners, was about 30 minutes ahead of us. If I dropped out now everyone on the team would have to shift down one leg to make up for me.

I decided to talk to my teammates about my condition and let them decide. Our team had been assembled by Brent Bailey, a fine runner from Limon about to enter his 2nd year of college. A bundle of energy, Brent and I, along with my son Dan and another fine runner, Matt from Peyton, had run two previous relays together, including the 2005 Wild West Relay, where we finished 4th overall, and one in Vermont in June where we had taken 1st place overall.

When Brent had mentioned wanting to put this team together I volunteered my company as a sponsor. Brent had called everyone, organized the van rentals, and seen to all the details that go into something like this. He was our captain and I decided to talk with him first.

My first leg had started out fine. Although the temperature on the road was approaching the "Bake" setting on an oven, I felt confident. I was well hydrated, rested, confident and ready to go. Four and a half miles seemed like nothing. Less than a mile into it I passed an ultra runner. He asked me if I was on my first leg. It occurred to me later that maybe I should have asked him his advice. A mile later and I was feeling the heat, coming in waves off the pavement. Another mile and I was beginning to feel bad. By my last mile I was just trying to get to the checkpoint. When I finally got there and handed off the "Livestrong" wristband that served as our baton I was staggering.

The ultra runner's teammates helped me lay down in the shade of their van. A paramedic whose name I don't remember attended to me. The young faces of my teammates were gathered above me in a semi-circle. I felt embarrassed by the attention.

About 6 hours later and it was time for my 2nd leg. By now we were in the hills, it was evening, and the weather was much cooler. Unfortunately I had broken one of the cardinal rules of distance running; never put anything new and untried into your system during a race. Knowing I needed sustenance and fluids, and worried about putting anything too solid into my stomach, I had decided to try one of the packets of energy jell that had come in our race packets. Starting about an hour before my leg, I had eaten this jell with sips of water.

Considering the shape I had been in a few hours before, I didn't feel too bad. Halfway through my run my calf had started to tighten, and so did my stomach. A little farther and suddenly a sharp pain shot through my calf. My stomach was a knot. I pushed and pushed until finally I made the switch of the wristband. I remember my son holding me up as I again staggered away. Off to the side of the road and then I was heaving the contents of my stomach like I had never heaved before.

So here I was. The guys were waking up now and I pulled Brent off to the side and explained my condition. He said he had been in contact with the other van, and our first runner was in bad shape. Asking everyone to rotate, and asking the first runner to do a 4th leg would be tough on all involved. I was urged to give it my best shot.

Soon it was time to warm up. Our guy was running up Rabbit Ears Pass, and my leg was next; a relatively easy 4 mile run at the top of the pass. My son came out to join me. "Just relax, Dad. The race is pretty much over anyway; we all know we're not going to catch that team from Denver North". Suddenly, tears were forming in my eyes. I told my son I was crying and didn't even know why. "Just do your best, Dad. You've already proved yourself to these guys. Oh, and don't puke again, OK? That was really gross". Thanks, son, I'll try not to....

Then I was off and running. Take it easy, Mick. Look around you and enjoy the moment, old man; this might be your last relay. I concentrated on my stride. Relax, relax. The air here at 9ooo feet was thin. Halfway through and the guys were there cheering me on. My leg didn't feel too bad. An hour ago I was ready to drop out, now I was doing OK. Coming into the checkpoint I even put together what passes for someone who is 48 as a kick. My teammates were around me, congratulating me on my run. My son was helping me stand. I had made it. My time, though not spectacular, was satisfying.

Later on, after collecting our trophy as top men's team and congratulating the Planned Pethood Posse on their excellent running, Brent came up to me. "I am glad you ran that last leg, you needed to do it for you." I stared at him. Here was a young man that wasn't even born when I was in my prime as a runner, telling me something like that. And you know what, he was absolutely right. If I had stopped when I wanted to I would have had a bitter taste in my mouth to this day.

Along the way I had had the privilege to experience an incredible event with a group of great young men. The support they gave each other, the energy they had and the talent they displayed was awesome. We broke the record by the way, that darned North team just broke it a little faster. Oh, and I finally did figure out that math problem; someone on that team was missing a toe. I had meant to ask them about that at the finish but never did. Maybe next year!


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Showing 1-2 of 2 comments
Submitted By: Barbara Neff
posted on 10/23/2006 @ 7:20:04 PM
Rated Story
What an inspirational sports story, Mick. Congratulations for persevering.
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Submitted By: Daniel Smith
posted on 10/23/2006 @ 8:48:36 AM
Rated Story
great story Michael.
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Showing 1-2 of 2 comments
CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Michael Rule

Larkspur , CO

Michael Rule has posted 47 stories and 500 comments since joining on 2/23/2006. Michael Rule 's average story rating is 4.94.
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