The Chronicles of Alex

One foot in front of the other.

Those were the words out of my dad’s mouth as I set off for the last 13 miles of my first ultra-marathon. That was the last aid station your crew could meet you at, so I would be by myself for some of the most grueling miles of the race. 

As I set off after housing some bacon, fist bumping my dad, and re-filling my water bottles, I was feeling pretty solid all things considered. I was making great time for a hilly, gravel course and not cramping. I had fixed the toe chaffing with tape early in the race and was mentally in a great spot, but I could feel the dehydration setting in.  

Going into this race, I knew hydration was what could bite me. I sweat A LOT; I need more water and electrolytes to keep me performing at peak than other people. This is really hard on my stomach, so I perfected this process in training. Drinking as I jogged, finding the right electrolytes that don’t leave a film in my mouth, eating salty snacks, etc. I was very conscious of my water intake during this race and trying to drink early on even when I wasn’t super thirsty. I was just reminding myself to hit the marks.

I set off from mile 35 stoked. I was in first position for women and second overall; this was bonkers for me! Then the sun came out, the same brutal hills were returning – this was an out and back race – and the water stations seemed to be further and fewer between. I couldn’t keep enough water on me to quench the thirst. A cold morning and cool day masked the thirst. 

I was chugging along yearning for the mile 43.5 aid station; it would be the last time I saw people before finishing the race. I wanted a pickle and to re-fill on electrolytes. I knew my drop bag and race volunteers were waiting for me! Soon enough, I saw the tent and anticipated the last few miles. 

I snagged some pickles, got more electrolytes, re-filled my waters, and said, “no” when asked if I needed to use the porta-pot. In hindsight, I’m glad I said no even though I had to pee a few feet away from a cow in the open range of Kansas a few minutes later. And disaster struck.

I was peeing blood. Alone. No service. With one of two directions to go. Back track about a mile or finish the 6.5 miles to go? 

I wasn’t in pain and didn’t have cell service, so the logical thought was to not have a panic attack, drink as much water as possible, and put one foot in front of the other towards the finish line. I had to keep moving to get somewhere, whether I decided that was back tracking or finishing the race – I had no other options. I even tried convincing myself that maybe I just hallucinated that my pee was not any shade of yellow or brown… 

I am now walking at a very brisk pace, because running was nearly impossible with the level of dehydration I had hit. I was almost finished! I had almost completed my adventure! All I could think about was getting cell service to call my mom and putting one foot in front of the other. With about 4 miles to go, I regained cell service and called my mom, who became distraught very quickly after realizing that I was going into kidney failure. We agreed that as long as I wasn’t in pain to keep going, and we would evaluate when the race was complete. 

I just kept telling myself one foot in front of the other. Over and over and over again. I had cut the music at this point and had to be alone with that reminder. 

I didn’t know what I was doing to my body by choosing to finish the race; I had put odds on it couldn’t be that bad. Worst case in my mind was going to the hospital for fluids. It was just dehydration but facing that alone and continuing to stay calm was huge to finish the race. 

Once I had crossed the finish, I got a change of clothes from the car and immediately went to check if anything had changed like running another 7 miles was going to help the situation. Nothing had changed but at least I was able to drink as much water and electrolytes as I wanted while getting a massage to loosen up my body. Once we made it to the car, I informed my dad if the ~situation~ to which he said, “I’m sure you’re fine,” but followed up every few hours checking if the status had changed.

Over the next few days everything subsided, and I was an ultra-marathoner.