It’s Not Just the Runner
July 1st, 2009I’ve been writing all morning. Oh not brilliant philosophical thoughts about walking or running great distances, but interview questions for various groups of people. In just about 10 days I’m heading to Tennesse to follow the highs and lows of those running VolState. The questions are a way for me to collect background information that will help me flesh out a story or more of this rugged event.
VolState is 500 km. It starts in Missouri, includes a ferry crossing over the Mississipi River and miles on foot in Kentucky, Alabama, and Georgia, as well as pretty much covering the length of Tennessee. It takes place in July. Those participating express concerns of the pitbulls, the traffic, snakes, human encounters, and the heat coupled with the humidity. They fear the sun beating down on them.
It’s called a “run,” but in fact, most will walk more than they run. They have 10 days to complete this trial through a beautiful hell. Part of my research is to find out “why?”
Today I’ve sent questions to Laz - the race director, to Carl - a former VolState participant and now a helper to Laz and documentarian of the event, and to five of the participants’ spouses. Yes, the spouses.
They have stories too. They may not be present in TN, but they are a part of their runners’ lives.
I sent the questions and have already received one reply. The answers are thorough. I think the spouse was happy to have a voice.
It’s made me think of all the ways Matt has made my adventures easier. He is sometimes there as my crew, but more often not. He is always giving me words of support. He gets me to and from the airport, allows my taking a share of the budget for my walking needs and for my adventures, and he keeps things ready for my return. While I’m away he does without my company, has to tend the dogs on his own, deals with whatever the property might demand of him. Our kids are grown so my absence does not impact the way it once might have.
When I was prepping for my Arctic trip there was one evening when I spread all the maps out on the studio floor. Matt became so anxious with the visual of what I was going to attempt he went outside to pace and turned an ankle. After eight days on the trail I reached a location that had amenities like electricity and phones and fax. I faxed home with the lodging’s phone number, and Matt called me back.
We were so happy to hear each other. He wanted to know all about my adventures. By this time I’d had my unscheduled encounter with a snow-fed river…obviously I’d survived. In the effort of rounding up the dogs during a thunderstorm, Matt had fallen and cracked some ribs. I asked if I should come home. I was at a place where I could get out of the wilderness and back to civilization. He encouraged me forward. He wanted me to finish as much or maybe more than I did.
When we had contact some days later and I was flagging, he once more encouraged me forward. It was the same in the Jornada when I had those days where I questioned the “why” and considered how tired I was. I needed him during those days, not just for the water and other supplies he had with him as my crew, but for the emotional strength to take those next steps forward.
It’s the high season right now for some big western 100 milers. Some 400 people took the start at Western States last weekend. 188 did not finish. There is often a lot of speculation as to what happened. Sometimes the answer is clear - there was an injury. Other times, when the runner is one we have high expectation of, we simply don’t understand.
Two weeks from tomorrow, seventeen runners are scheduled to cross that ole Miss and pound the pavement for 314 miles. Back home, their families and friends will carry on while they wait for word of progress. The spouses who stay in the background are giving up time, comfort, financial support for their runner. These things are replaced with worry, temporary solo-parenting and household management. Should anything go awry in their own lives back home, they have to carry on.
Those who run Vol State have ten days to finish the course. Not knowing exactly what pace they can maintain, they have to plan those days from work and from home. If they have children at home, the burden of temporary single parent falls on the spouse.
The sacrifice is not small.
For me, sometimes the hardest part of the mental game involved in going painful long distances is the absence of the one person who makes it easier when he’s around. There are many times when I simply want Matt at hand to talk to. When I have to go without him, he often encourages me with, “Ah, but think of how much we’ll have to talk about when you get home.”
So today, I don’t have any specific wisdom to share. I think I just want to give credit to every spouse or partner who sits and waits for her (or his) runner to return.
If you are a runner, certainly the finish is yours and yours alone. The victory, though, that is shared…by you and all those who love you and wait for your return.
Laugh Freely, Walk Far,
