The race began on Tuesday, December 29th, 9:00 a.m. How is it that I can't remember the start of the race? Suddenly I was simply running. Early on Barb and I paced each other at about 10 minute miles. I was comforted to be running with my friend, an experienced 24 hour runner and excellent companion. At about mile fifteen I began to feel very ill. Fifteen miles! How could this be happening? Fifteen miles wasn't even a training run! For fifteen miles it was barely worth getting out of bed. All that Cytomax and Metabolol swirled in my belly. A few sips of Ensure at the 2 hour mark was all it took to expel the whole mess. I tried to puke as inconspicuously as possible while several runners passed by offering condolences and a kind of congratulatory encouragement "Get rid of it all Steph. You're going to feel so much better!" And indeed I did.
Thus began a period of effortless, joy-filled running that would take me through about mile 70. I began to become aware of the drama around me, of the incredible feats of the other runners - the ultra endurance giant, Al Howie (who eventually ran an incredible 250 miles in 72 hours!), Andrew Lovy, whose jolly stride kept a smile on my face, John Surdyk in his mustard yellow shorts and Charl Mattheus, averaging an impressive 8 minute mile pace and still finding enough energy to flash me a moon every few miles as he passed.
I watched Barb in her struggles with sickness just as she had watched mine. I wanted to share with her my big blue magic ball of energy, but I knew she had to find her own. During that time the sun set, a bright pink-yellow, deepening to rose. The air cooled and stars came out. The music playing on my Walkman became part of the life force, propelling me, mingling love, sadness, joy, renewal, loss with the simple act of running. Other runners were in good spirits and we exchanged light banter as we passed one another. Running was ecstasy. My heart could have burst.
Sometime after mile 70, I began to slow. I discarded my Walkman feeling the need to focus. Running became an effort, and Scott's role became primary. "You just finished your 100K" says Scott "now focus on 100 miles." I began to run three laps then walk the fourth, later shifting to running the straights and walking the curves. At some point I began to cry - not from pain, anger or pity - but a simple sadness that had welled up and with the release of tears, left calmness in its wake. At 100 miles, 2:14 a.m., Scott has a surprise for me - Peter was on the phone. Under the surreal lighting of the Arizona Boys Track, I listened to the voice of my paramour - the voice that brought me to a Leadville finish, the voice that has lived in my head for 20 years along with my own, the voice that is home to me. "Happy Anniversary, Sweetie." It was the emotional jolt I needed. I began to run with deliberation.
At mile 111 Scott had another surprise for me. I had broken a course record that had stood for 10 years that had been set by his wife, Theresa. And she was on the phone. I was being congratulated by one of the all time great ultra runners, Theresa Daus-Weber! Another emotional jolt. That Scott's a smart one!
But running was getting harder. It was all I could do to keep running the straight-aways. Scott's coaching was becoming very focused. Every lap he had a word of encouragement or something to be eaten or drunk. "Give me three good laps" he would say "then take a rest lap." At some point a new person, who would become increasingly important to my well being, entered the picture. "Hey, I'm going to run a lap with you," he said. "I'm Jordan." Jordan ran several laps with me, offering encouragement and bits of humor. I can't remember a single thing he said, but I remember smiling ... smiling at mile 122.
When I still had about an hour to go, Scott asked me what my running strategy had been. When I told him, he said that it wasn't going to be fast enough to come close to 130 miles. From now to the finish, I would have to run, and I would have to run faster than I had been. So I ran with big tears of anger running down my face. "That bastard", I thought, "how can he ask me to run now? No one else is running. I can barely walk. I want to die." But I ran. Scott said "now give me three more laps, then take a rest lap." With the completion of each series of four laps Scott would say "Okay, now you have the sixth fastest time in the world this year" or "four more laps and you'll have the seventh all time fastest North American 24 hour time." And I would do as he said, cursing and crying all the while. With about 15 minutes to go, Scott said "Okay, no more walking, give me a final four laps. Run." I let out an infamous Steph growl and ran and cried and sobbed and people cheered and my legs screamed and ... I did it. On December 30th, 9:00 a.m., the race was over. I had just completed 128.99 miles in 24 hours, the 4th best in the world by a woman in 1998.