Smitty's Ultra in Woodfield, OH

The Opossum And The Mongoose

“Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness.” (Ezekiel) This short Bible verse, in a few words, describes the people of Hospice and their service to those in need.

At the end of last Summer, my Dad was diagnosed with cancer for the third time, and we realized he wasn’t going to beat it again. Hospice Compassus out of Lafayette moved in and helped my Mom, Dad, and our family as we dealt with the inevitable. They were truly angels on earth. I vowed that I would do something for them one day, albeit knowing that I could never truly repay their gift of compassion and the love they had shown my family.

Out of the blue, this summer, my 9 year old daughter Emma came to me and asked me to put on a 5k and raise money for the Hospice that had helped “Paw”. I was touched and amazed. I thought for a while and explained that 5K’s are not very productive at raising money, but I would think about a way we could give back to them. Time passed and she hounded me again and again. I began base training for the ultra running season, and I usually do a “short” race (50 miles or less) to break out of my base phase. I needed one at the end of September. Well as fate would have it, Emma was marching in parades during those weekends. So I was forced to look to the ultrarunning calendar and find a race the first week in October. That’s when I found it…..a Children’s Hospital Charity Run in Woodsfield Ohio. Said to be one of the oldest Ultra races in North America. It was 12 hours, one mile paved hilly loop, and they had a few phone numbers to call the race director Charles Kozlesky (no website and no online entry – ha).

The lights went off in my head, I thought, wow I may have found just what I needed. A tough base breaker and a charity event that I can raise money for Hospice in. I picked up the phone and called Mr. Kozlesky. We played phone tag for a day or two and finally he told me all about the race. I was intrigued and hooked. He sent me the forms and a brief explanation of the race via email and I signed up. Half of the adventure of this race was getting there as you will see……yep another Mongoose Tolstoy epic…..kick back and relax! This one, like the race is loooooong mate!

I had to figure out where to fly into. The closest big airport was Pittsburgh. From there it would be a 2 hour plus drive through Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and then into Ohio to a sprawling metropolis known as Woodsfield. This place makes my village look like the Big Apple. So, I used up the last of my frequent flyer miles on the flight, rented a car (got the insurance – the deer in Leadville that I jumped in a Kia has convinced me to always purchase insurance), and sent out an email request to my friends and associates to sponsor me in this race and give to an awesome cause Hospice Compassus!

My little girl Emma glowed when I told her what was happening. What an awesome kid, I always knew the Fed Ex guy was nice! (just joking…I hope). Really, thanks to all of you that gave money to Hospice….although I know some of you had ulterior motives and wanted to see just how bad I would kill myself to rack up more of your money! Hell, the guys I work with Ted Habetz and Dennis “buy a vowel” Dworaczyk, came up with some diminishing returns formula that had me losing money as I progressed…..in the end, they both gave me lump sums.

Well, October came like a cannon ball, and it was time to go see about it. I was scared to death leaving for this race…alone and very undertrained. I met up with Bobbi Parker in the Lafayette airport. She is a cancer survivor and fellow trail monkey that runs with us on the Chicot trails. She is an awesome person and quite an inspiration. She has kicked cancers a$$ and runs like a gazelle! It was great to see her, and it reminded me of just what the hell I was doing…..running for Hospice Compassus…raising money and awareness. When she left to board her flight, I was calmed and ready! God and fate struck again!

My flight out of Lafayette was delayed…very delayed and when I reached the airport in Houston, I jumped off the plane and began to run through the terminal. Several others followed suit as we all were late for our connections. About 300 yards in, my phone went off and I looked at it and it was a trip alert from Continental telling me I had missed my flight. I stopped running, and was pissed. It was then that one of the guys running just behind me, looked back at me as he passed and said, “you’re tired already?” I went from pissed to pissing in my pants…..Yep mate, I’m done, can’t go another step. I was going to make that the title of this race report but other events would change that.

They bumped me to the next flight. This was going to put me late into Woodsfield. Too late to enjoy the supper they were preparing for all the racers and too late to stay at the “Farmhouse” Charlie and Pandora Nuehart had set up for me to stay at. There aren’t any hotels nearby. They offer housing to idiots like me that travel from far far away. I called and told Pandora and Charlie that I would stay somewhere along the way and drive in for the prerace breakfast in the morning.

Charlie, in his detailed manner, gave me perfect directions to a hotel in St. Claresville with an attached Italian restaurant. He explained, it’s on the top of the big hill, you can’t miss it. This would put me about an hour out from Woodsfield. The pasta was awesome, but I was really craving a cheeseburger and Heineken light. I also had to go buy some scissors so I could cut the tape for my feet the next morning. Yes, I went all carry on and very light for this race – no checked bag and minimal gear.

Let me tell you something folks, I realized driving in, this is the hilliest damn part of the country I have ever seen. It was unreal. I later remarked that drunk driving would surely be a fatal sport around there and that if they had roads like this in Louisiana the population of my village would be cut in half in one weekend! It was also brutally cold and raining. The board shorts and sandals I had worn from Loooosiana weren’t cutting it.

I slept well and awoke to drive to Woodsfield. Charlie had explained to me that when I turned off the Highway, it would be 31 miles to town. He also said that this was a route he used to cover in about 4-5 hours on foot. Driving in, I realized he must be one hell of a runner and part mountain goat. The hills were straining the transmission on the Camry I was driving and testing my brakes and nerve. The mongoose almost became one with the sprawling cornfields and Amish villages along the way. I think I saw Floyd Landis drinking a Jack and Coke on the side of the road (should have stopped and joined in….he tells me you can have a banner raceday in the hills after getting smashed….I digress)

I arrived in time to go to the church basement in town, where a bunch of nice ladies had prepared breakfast for the racers, their crews, and families. I walked in and went straight to the table. Someone told me hello and I shook their hand and told them my name. Someone in the crowd exclaimed he must be from Southern Ohio….very Southern Ohio. I smiled and in my best coonass, said, “yep I’m one of those swamp people ya’ll see on TV…..you know…..Choot’em Clint!” Well, that broke the ice and the silence. They were all laughing. Probably at me, but that’s OK, I’m used to that, you know the characters I hang around.

I sat and ate with and met my fellow idiots….those of us that would be attempting to traverse as many miles as possible in 12 hours on a one mile paved hilly loop. The forecast early in the week was beautiful and had the temps low and the weather perfect. But as everyone knows, Ed’s Wrong and Dick Don’t Know, the weathermen, whom I am glad aren’t on the bomb squad, got it wrong….very wrong. It was in the high 30’s and raining……like a cow pissin on a flat rock raining!

After breakfast I shot over to the convenience store to buy last minute race supplies….3 cans of red bull….energy grenades….pull the pin and hold on mate!

The race start/finish, aid station, and count trailer (more on this in a minute), were all located in the Police Station parking lot. We all parked right there in the lot at the turn around (very convenient – could reach into my car for all my gear and keep it out of the driving rain). They had set up a trailer in the lot, with a sliding window where the nice ladies would have you holler your bib number at them as you passed each lap and they would holler back your mileage. Needless to say, I harassed them on every lap, EVERY! The head honcho tabulator was Peggy. Peggy handed out the race numbers, mine was 412. She explained to just say 12 every time I passed. All I could think of was the Visa commercials and the dude named Peggy that answers the phone every time. Well Peggy was going to be answering all of my calls this rainy Saturday in Ohio.

The race was set to go off at 8am and go until 8 pm. As is typical of small ultra races, someone was late so we waited, took a group picture and started a little late. 17 morons were going to enjoy the lovely weather and the pavement for the next twelve hours. I knew this was going to be epic from the moment I got to Woodsfield. I was running this for my dad and Hospice. This transcended my sorry butt, and for once I was truly running for a reason!

The race course began with a right turn out of the police lot (I’ve been in police lots a few times – today was going to be a record for me though). It then proceeded up the 2nd largest hill on the course. The elevation gain was about 20-25 feet in about 50 yards. Then a left turn and gradual descent into another left turn with a small descent to be met by a long long long gradual ascent to another right turn with a gradual descent, that turned into a super damn long ascent. This was the long straight stretch. You all getting the drift here….this wasn’t an Asian strip joint….this was Vegas mate….there was nothing flat about it!

You then made a left turn and went over a small hill (felt like Everest after 50 miles), then down for a bit and straight up for a good bit to the turnaround and half mile point, which was on top of you guessed it a big damn HILL! (worst one on course) You then retraced the course back to the main street where you made a left and were faced with a time/temperature sign on a bank (reminded you just how cold and how damn long you had been runnin). Finally, you would make a hop over the curb and turn left into the police lot where you would scream out your race # to Peggy and she would tally up your miles. Did I mention this was paved…..I hate pavement.

About 10 feet of the street side was coned off, meaning you had to run in the gutter and that gutter was filling with rain…..all day. I think the rain subsided for about a total of one hour the whole race. The conditions were brutal. The wind, rain, and cold ate at me and the other racers all day.

The first lap was fun. I ran with Charlie and got to know him a bit better. There was one guy that went off the front hard/fast. Then there was Justin, Kris, and Alan. Then Charlie and I and the rest straggled behind. We did the first lap in about 9 or 10 minutes. I was astounded at how hilly it was. Justin was a Leadville finisher and Kris had been to Badwater twice. There were no slouches at this race; even the ones behind me had some damn impressive resumes as I would find out later.

I broke away from Charlie and started to do my own thing. I ran without my hood for a while and then was relegated to running with a raincoat and hood on the rest of the day. I knew it was going to be tough running in a raincoat and hood and my face and neck were going to be rubbed bloody raw. We all settled into our own pace in the ensuing miles. Fast guy, that I nicknamed “Rocketman” was in the lead and moving at about a 7:30 pace, Justin was in second, and Kris and I flip/flopped third for many miles.

(Sorry folks but I am going to go into some detail for those of you that are interested in doing something like this…..the devil is in the details baby and if you screw up…..you will be a puking heap of carnage on the side of the road) I carried my amphipod handheld water bottle the first two hours. I was peeing well and with the temperatures, etc. I decided to drop the bottle the rest of the race. I didn’t want to get hyponatremia (too much water). I took a Vespa 45 minutes before the race and every 2 hours during the race. I ate chips, bananas, and apple sauce every other hour on the top of the hour. The apple sauce is the bomb…going down or up and out….it has the same easy consistency (a plus at ultra distances) I alternated water and Gatorade on each lap. They brought Pizza out after lunch and I ran a lap eating pizza. Later they asked what we wanted from the fast food places (sponsors). I asked for a “BIGGIE” fry from McDonalds. Three laps later, they handed me a giant Mickey D French Frie out of the window of the trailer. This was about 7-8 hours into the race. Funny as hell, here I am soaked to the bone, cold, tired, and running with a big fry in my raincoat pocket and eating them. Those were the best damned French fries I have ever eaten. You could ask Peggy and the girls for anything and they would go get it. What an awesome race crew. I told them I wanted a beer at the finish and was interested to see if they would hand me a beer in the Popo parking lot. Enough on the eating habits of the wayward mongoose and on to the details of the carnage.

It was great to be able to see all of the other runners on each lap. Many I would see twice on each lap. Everyone ran for the first few hours and then many started to walk/run and then walk later. I kept up a 9 minute pace for some time, dropping to a 10 minute, then 12+ minute pace late. For Ben Hawn and my other Engineer Type A monkeys, my overall pace over 12 hours was 10:44/mile (mileage divided by 12 hours). Rocket man held the lead for a while and then exploded, never to run again after about 4 hours. At about 25 miles in, Justin had lapped me and had a one mile lead on myself and Kris. Kris a former marine ran with me quite a bit. We, flip flopped second place for some time. They were both in their 30’s and had impressive race resumes (Leadville and Badwater ….just to name a couple of easy 5k’s they had done!) I don’t want you guys to think a bunch of lil ole ladies were beating up on the mongoose.

Each lap I would run up to the window announce my bib number and something stupid (did ya’ll expect anything less). Things like, I want two tacos and a burrito, to singing, “the idiots on the course go round and round”, to sneaking up and scaring them, and even attempting to bribe them for extra mileage. One old gal wanted to take the money – ha! Once at about mile 40 or so, they exclaimed my mileage and how awesome it was. I said damn, they told me this was a 5K…..I thought it felt long! I also explained that when it got this cold in my village we closed the schools. As in many of my better ultras though, I was smiling. I love to run and God was letting me do just that….run!

There was a church on the course and every hour, the bells would ring out, letting us know we had done one more hour. The miles and peals of the bell piled up and so did the rain and cold. Who says you don’t get to see wild animals in road races. I saw three deer at the turnaround hill. They watched me as I approached and then ran down the hill as graceful as can be (I envied them – I could have used two more legs). I also saw the biggest rat I have ever seen in my life get hit by a car. The cats in Woodsfield must be some real badasses. I told them a rat that size would feed two families in my village. When asked by my fellow racers, how I felt…I would respond, better than that rat on the corner!

One thing that stands out in my memory of the race, was this one guy that would come take a smoke break on his porch every few hours. He would ask how many miles I had done and I would tell him. I know he thought I was lying especially after about 10 or 11 hours. At about mile 50 or so, I didn’t see Kris on the course for a few laps. Turns out, I never would again. He had given up and left the course for good. That put me in second place behind Justin, who was still moving strong and ahead of me by one mile. I would catch him every once in a while, when he took a break, only to have him burn a fast few laps and lap me again. The insolence of youth!

I am and was the old “bull” that day and was just running my race. I never stopped or sat down the whole day. I followed my mantra RFM….Relentless Forward Motion. As the miles and hours piled on the other racers were pushing Justin and I and urging us on. It was neat. They would cheer us, give high fives, and tell us how amazed they were at us for still going strong. Those remarks really fueled me. Most on the course were “old school” ultra runners and knew just what to say to keep us going!

You have to find things to motivate you when going this long. The biggest thing with Ironman or any event that lasts longer than 4 or 5 hours is to continue to push late in the race and for long periods of time. So I always try to feed off of things….little things, anything that can motivate or take my mind off of the suffering. I want to list several here.

At noon, the bells of the church began to play a hymn…it was awesomeness! I had to listen closely to realize, but it was playing “Here I am Lord”. I struggled for the words, but could remember some of them and how appropriate they were…. “I the Lord of snow and rain, I have born my peoples pain….Here I am Lord….” I sang and ran…it was a high point. I also asked Shawn and Emma to write me some notes to read on my laps. Emma had drawn me a beautiful picture with a butterfly that said, “Fly like a butterfly” and a horse that said, “run like the wind”. I looked at that pic on every lap – placed it in the rear window of my rental car so I could see it on every lap!

Shawn had written four notes to be read throughout the race and they were numbered and to be read sequentially. Damn woman sealed them. Did I mention it was cold and rainy and I had wet gloves on. Mongoose teeth make great letter openers! So at mile 30, 50, 60 and at the final hour I opened her notes. The first had some motivational quotes – and one I always tell myself – I run for those that can’t – I run because I can. The second was more motivational sayings and an offer for well let’s just say a prize and some motivation for every mile over 50 that I could do (damn girl is lucky they put a 12 hour time limit on the race). The third was the Bible quote about Eagles Wings (one of my favorite songs that I sing when running) and the song that played at my dad’s funeral that broke me down like a little girl.

Every couple of hours, I would grab my cell phone and run and talk. I called Shawn several times and talked to her and Emma. I even called Edie at Geaux Run a few times to give her some Jim Cantori style reports from the storm…I mean race course. Thanks ladies for listening and pushing me along. I am surprised my Crackberry didn’t fail from all the cold/wind/rain!

Well as night began to fall and with it, the temperatures, our motivation, and our speed. Charlie Kozlesky told both Justin and myself that the course record was 67 miles and that it appeared to be in jeapordy. Justin was moving well. His crew was packed with ultra runners and they were pacing him all day. Hell one of his pacers was a female that had completed Leadville last year. I picked on he and her saying, “you couldn’t find a better pacer?” I also told he and his crew that they must be good friends to be trudging along in the cold, wind, and rain. Hell, there were times when the wind would blow the rain so hard at us that I couldn’t see. I would skew Clint Blacks lyrics, “I been running blind!” Good thing I didn’t end up like that rat. Stay in the cones mongoose……stay in the cones…….keep her between the buoys mate! Listen folks, after ten hours of running, this is the kind of crap that goes through your mind….and other things, but I only want ya’ll to think I’m crazy - not solidify the theory into a proof!

At a little over ten hours, I had completed 58 miles. I knew that if I could just complete 10 more miles I would break the course record. By this point Justin was moving well and was about 1.5 miles or laps ahead of me. I had two runners 3 miles or so behind me, but they were relegated to walking a lot and running some. If I didn’t completely detonate, I knew I had wrapped up second place. Every time I would see Charlie out there trudging away, he would holler at me “$32 – keep going”. That’s how much all of you pledged per mile for Hospice. Charlie knew that and knew that it would motivate me. He was right.

At eleven hours in, I was beginning my 64^th mile. I called Shawn and spoke with her for a lap. I was tired but still moving. I put the phone back in the rental car and grabbed her last note. On the front it read, “Don’t worry because I am with you. Don’t be afraid because I am your God. I will make you STRONG and will help you.” Isaiah 41:10. On the back, she had pasted my dad’s funeral prayer card with his picture and Jeremiah 29…”For I know well the plans I have in mind for you……” Thank God it was raining, because I was balling! I composed myself and took off. I knew it would be close, but I didn’t think I would get 68 miles. I figured at the pace I was moving, I would get 67 and tie the record. Justin was going to shatter it. As I passed him the next few times, I hollered at him to go for 70, leave it all out there and he would never regret it. His pacer ensured me that they were going to give it hell.

At mile 66 I crossed and Peggy told me I had time for one more lap with a little bit to spare. I had my iPod on shuffle for the last few hours. All day long I thought about my dad and all he had done for me over my life. This last lap was going to be for him and with him. I was lucky enough to hold his hand when he took his last breath last October. Now this October he was going to hold my hand. I turned my IPod to Christina Aguilera’s HURT and moved into the darkness. The lyrics rang out in my ears, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to hear your voice again….sometimes I wanna call, but I know you won’t be there….Are you looking down upon me, are you proud of who I am?” I crushed this lap, crying and smiling. I saw Justin out in front of me….he was going to finish with 70 miles. He was about a quarter mile ahead of me and I heard the small crowd erupt as he and his pacer crossed the finish line. Yes he was lucky; he had a great crew, and had been paced all day in the slop. But, I had a secret, I had been paced all day too….the mongoose had an opossum named POGO rolling with him all day!

NOTE: For those of you that don’t know. My dad had a crew-cut in high school and looked just like a cartoon character of the day…POGO the Opossum and that was his nickname…POGO. He was a four year lettermen in basketball, baseball, and football. His friends tell me he was one hell of an athlete and played shortstop and quarterback. Little did they know he was an ultrarunner too!

I crossed the line, 12 hours, 67 miles……I had tied the course record, garnered second place, and raised over $4,000 for Hospice Compassus. Peggy handed me a Big Busch Beer and I smoked it in Mongoose fashion! The little old ladies struck again later serving all of the runners, families, and crew a spaghetti dinner at the VFW hall. I may have lost part of my family last October, but this October I gained a whole new family in Woodsfield Ohio. I am going back next year…..who’s coming? And no, I don’t want any crew or pacer, an opossum named Pogo has that covered! Until next time…..Mongoose Out!