Teton Dam Marathon – Rexburg, Idaho – June 4, 2016
“If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon” – Kathrine Switzer
These sentiments, attributed to the first woman to officially run the Boston Marathon, became abundantly clear to me at the Grand Teton Dam Marathon in Rexburg, Idaho. While I have witnessed time and again the amazing camaraderie within the running community, on that day I learned that runners truly are “family”.
It all started that morning with a 4am alarm when Jenny drove me to Rexburg’s middle school to board a bus to the Start line, the most recent of the many sacrifices that she has made to support this crazy 50-state marathon odyssey. When Jenny ran the 2003 Chicago Marathon, it was enough of an inspiration to get this slightly overweight couch potato to decide to make a lifestyle change, a decision that has enriched my life beyond measure. Running might be adding years to my life, but, more importantly, it is adding life to my years. And I owe it all to Jenny.
During the bus ride to the Start line, I visited with Josh, a young man who grew up in Kansas City and at the time was a student at BYU-Idaho in Rexburg. Once the bus arrived at the Start line around 6am, the runners congregated and began sharing words of encouragement in preparation for the 6:30 start. I was asked by a small group of runners from Cameroon if they could take a picture with me. Why, I have no idea. Maybe they thought I was a long-lost relative (haha).
Suddenly, I was pleasantly surprised by a bear hug from the one and only Trent Morrow, otherwise known as Trent Morrow – Marathon Man.
In 2013-2014 Trent was successful in running the most number of official marathons across all 7 continents in 1 year, running a remarkable 160 marathons across 7 continents in 365 days to be the first person in the world to achieve such a milestone. A World Record holder. In short, he is “Running Royalty”.
Trent and I had met and visited briefly at two previous marathons, and I was shocked that he would even remember me. But that’s Trent…he treats ALL runners as family and is an amazing ambassador for the sport.
So, Trent, I still want to know. Who is going to play you in the movie?
Then Polli Peterson from St. George, Utah joined the conversation. She and I had met briefly the evening before while walking down the street in Rexburg, sharing a “good luck in the race” fist bump at a stoplight.
After taking a few photos with Trent, Polli asked me about the names that were written on my shirt. I shared with her the mission of Running4 and that the Angels, Fighters, and Survivors would be my inspiration throughout the 26.2 miles. When I showed Polli my mom’s name on the shirt and told her that my mom had been bravely fighting a brain tumor for the past year, Polli gave me a hug and we shared a couple tears.
Just like family.
Soon thereafter, we lined up and the race started.
Along with the individual runners, the race also offered a Relay division, and in the early miles I found myself leapfrogging with a minivan that had “Team Gugelman” written in the dirt on the back window. Since we were running at approximately the same pace, the van would pass by and cheer on their teammate and then me. At each of the relay exchange zones (about every 4 miles or so), I would say a word of congratulations to the runner who was finishing their leg of the relay, and they would share a word of encouragement with me.
As I passed the van for what I thought would be the last time, I joked with the woman who I assumed was “Mom Gugelman” that we had become family.
Throughout the opening miles, I also played leapfrog with a couple named Julie and Tim, always sharing a thumbs-up and word of encouragement along the way. In my mind, they became my “Running Cousins”.
Although the miles were ticking away, it seemed to be taking more effort than usual. I noticed that I was not sweating as much as usual, and I had not used even one Port-a-John along the way. Sure signs of dehydration. Although there had been plentiful aid stations with water, sports drink, and amazing volunteers along the way, for some reason I had not taken in enough fluid. And now it was too late.
Thoughts of the dreaded DNF (Did Not Finish), something that had never been an issue in 36 previous marathons, crept into my mind.
As the temperatures began to soar, at Mile 19 the cramping in my legs became too much, and I decided to try a walk/run strategy. After doing a little math, I called Jenny to let her know what was happening so that she would not worry at the finish line when my ETA would be about an hour later than usual. When she told me that she and the kids were parked at Mile 20, I was ecstatic! I told her that I would be there in about 15 minutes.
After hanging up, I heard a familiar voice from behind…It was “Mom Gugelman” asking whether I needed some water that they had in their van! She had noticed my lack of sweat earlier on, and combined with my newfound plodding gait, she could tell that dehydration had set in. I could tell as she handed me the water that she was checking my eyes and speech to make sure that I was all right. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her motherly instincts, and promised her that I would be careful as the “Team Gugelman” van went onward.
After walking about half a mile, I heard another familiar voice. This time, it was “Cousin Julie”, who also appeared to be struggling a bit but was still running. She asked whether I could use some of the sports drink that she had been carrying in the CamelBak pouch she had been carrying the whole time. Here she was, struggling herself, and she was offering the precious commodity of liquid to me. She also appeared to be checking me for signs of dehydration, and would only run on after I assured her that my family was waiting a half mile ahead.
Soon, I could see Jenny, Andie, and Joe approaching me on the road. They had brought some sports drink and pretzels, which is exactly what my electrolyte-starved body needed. Not to mention the mental boost that it gave to me. After seeing my state of distress, Andie offered to walk with me for a while, and the combination of her company and the drinks seemed to do magic. My concern about finishing vanished. I knew that I could walk the rest of the way if necessary.
From previous conversations, Andie knew that my secondary goal was to finish all 50 marathons in under 5 hours, which had never been an issue before, including the bout with food poisoning contracted at the pasta party the night before the marathon in Mobile, Alabama. The question hung over both of us, so I decided to address it head-on.
“Sweetie, I don’t think we’re going to break 5 hours today,” I said, trying to hide my dejection.
“But you’re going to finish, right, dad?”
“Oh, I’ll finish. I’ll crawl in if I have to.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
After parting ways with my family, I had the road to myself for the next 6 miles. The only people I saw were the volunteers at the aid station at Mile 23, and the young man who rode his Quadrunner back and forth on the course, checking on the welfare of the runners while offering bananas and water. These amazing people gave up their entire morning just to make sure that no runner was left behind. It made me think of the quote from the movie “Lilo and Stitch” that I took my kids to when they were young:
“Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind…or forgotten”
As I walked through the miles of potato fields surrounding Rexburg, I thought about all of the Angels, Fighters, and Survivors who I have come to know through Running4. I realized that, while my current situation was certainly not ideal, it did not even belong in the same conversation with the challenges faced by these courageous souls who have been affected by cancer.
And then my thoughts turned to all the generous people who have supported the Running4 mission through their contributions to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute and the St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. Thinking of others, just like family.
Any concern that I had for my finishing time evaporated, as I realized that the only Race that matters is the Human Race.
While passing a cemetery at Mile 24, my philosophical mood continued. It made me realize even more that our time here on earth is but a blip compared to eternity, and that our only purpose is to look out for each other. Maybe an oversimplification, but these are the things you think about when you’re all alone in the farmland of Idaho.
At Mile 25, Jenny appeared. We decided that, given the amount of fluid I had ingested and the fact that she was with me, it would be safe for us to run the last mile together. How was a slob like me so lucky to be married to such an incredible woman? We talked, laughed, and would have cried together if I could have produced tears.
As the Finish line approached, she told me she was proud of me and peeled off the course so that I could have the moment to myself.
Once the elation of finishing had worn off, it became my time to become concerned about my running family. I remembered passing Trent, Polli, and Josh in the early miles, and had never seen them again. Had they somehow passed me in my stupor, and had already finished? I searched the finish area and did not see any of them. Suddenly, I felt like a dad lying in bed, waiting for his teenager to come home late at night.
While my brain knew that “Quadrunner Guy” was out there checking on everyone, my gut still churned with concern.
After a few minutes, the race organizers had started a one-mile Kids Race, which shared the same finish line as the marathon. Jenny and I decided to stand on the sideline and cheer as kids began streaming toward the finish line with unadulterated joy on their faces.
Then we looked up the course in time to see Trent approaching the finish line, practically at full sprint. As I wondered why he was running so hard, and how he had the energy to do so, I could see his motivation. He caught up to a little girl as she approached the finish, grabbed her hand, and raised it in triumph as they crossed the line together. Nurturing a new runner. What a guy!
Then, after 5 ½ hours on his feet in the sweltering heat, Trent stayed around the finish area, handing out medals to the young runners and taking pictures with anybody who asked. I even saw him raise one young finisher up onto his shoulder while they both flexed their muscles for a photo. The running family continues to grow!
As I sat under a shade tree and took it all in, Polli appeared over the final hill. Then Josh. We were all in the fold, safe and sound. The worried dad could now go to sleep.
When we got up to leave, who should approach, but “Mom Gugelman”? With a sheer look of relief, she said, “I am so glad to see that you made it. You looked pretty rough out there.”
“Thanks for what you did out there. You saved me,” I replied.
“Nobody gets left behind,” she answered.
Ohana, indeed…
“Friendships are born on the field of athletic strife and the real gold of competition. Awards become corroded, friends gather no dust.” – Jesse Owens
