And I’m off again, one foot in front of the other, just pushing to the next pit stop. I started to get some pain in my left shin. I focused more on my stretches and my Gatorade and kept on walking. I was at mile 15, just past a pit stop. The stretching seemed to relieve the pain so I kept moving forward.
About the time I got to the grab and go on mile 16 (just port-a-potty, beverages and packages snacks, no medical tent) the pain wasn’t going away. I took some more Advil, stretched for quite awhile and moved on. Next medical care was the pit stop at mile 19.
I took my time, stretched, and still I hurt. I was in an area with no sweep access. I had to find a way to go on. And I did go on but every step hurt. At times it felt like my leg was breaking. I moved to walk the trail because the hard surface of the blacktop was making it worse.
I made it to the pit stop on sheer will alone. Two of the greeters took me to the medical tent, one on each side of me, helping to hold me up. I collapsed on the cot.
Tears. Yes, some were for the pain. Mostly, though, they were tears of anger and frustration. This was a showstopper. I tried to deny it at first but as I talked with the medic I had to face it. The last 3 miles to camp included crossing the bridge, climbing stairs and a major uphill incline.
I had to make a choice. I figured I could probably gut my way up the stairs and the hill and across the bridge. I also knew that if I pushed it too far, the shin splints would be so severe that I might not be able to walk at all on Sunday.
Dammit!!! I had come so far!!! And it was only 4:30!!! I had time. I had time to walk the last 3 miles! All day long that had been my fear – that time would run out and I’d be forced to take the sweep van (all walkers had to be back to camp by sundown and if you ran out of time, you had to take a ride back). After fighting the physical pain, the blisters, the fatigue, the mental battle with my fears overwhelming me, after all of that I had to take the bus back to camp. I really couldn’t take the pain any more.
The frustration, the pain, the disappointment and the weariness combined and I couldn’t hold back the tears any more. The medics were so good. Not only did they care for my physical needs but they listened, they brought me Kleeenex, they gave me hugs and encouragement. They helped me hobble over to the bus.
Back at camp, I limped my way to the medical building with the help of one of the medics. It was late afternoon, the sun was going down, the wind was increasing and I was in shorts and a tank top. One of the medics gave me her jacket and went to my tent to find my sweatshirt.
One of the other medics sat with me and comforted me. Again, the overwhelming emotions combined with the physical exhaustion meant I couldn’t control the tears. She stayed with me until I was done crying. Then she got me set up to see the sports med team.
Ice, some pressure point work and massage, another dose of Advil and some very creative taping and I was on my way. I gathered my things and got a ride in a golf cart to camp across the street. I hobbled to my tent, changed into my sweats, talked with Dave for a few minutes and fell asleep.
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