Sun Dance at Devil's Lake
"The next day the dancing began, and those who were going to take part
were ready, for they had been fasting and purifying themselves in the
sweat lodges, and praying. First, their bodies were painted by the holy
men. Then each would lie down beneath the tree as though he were dead,
and the holy men would cut a place in his back or chest, so that a
strip of rawhide, fastened to the top of the tree, could be pushed
through the flesh and tied. Then the men would get up and dance to the
drums, leaning on the rawhide strip as long as he could stand the pain
or until the flesh tore loose."
Black Elk
"The Ancient tradition that the world will be consumed in fire at the
end of 6,000 years is true, as I have heard from hell. The whole
creation will be consumed, and appear infinite, and holy, whereas now
it appears finite, and corrupt. This will come to pass by an
improvement of sensual enjoyment. If the doors of perception were
cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is - infinite."
William Blake
At race check-in on Friday evening, the sun skimming the summer hills
which surrounded the base camp, I found that the course had been
altered. When I returned to the Thunderbird Motel I studied the changes
and readied myself for the upcoming battle, a drop into a dark, hellish
nightmare.
I awoke at 2:45am to a clap of thunder. I lay
patiently, awaiting the arrival of day. When thin lines of pale light
slipped through the window shades I washed and dressed, then drove to
the start.
I walked around a bit in the fresh mowed field and
the dirt road, said a prayer, the insides of my body beginning to glow
from a pulsing energy. I positioned myself on the line, and when the
Head Goat sounded the bell, began my journey.
50k and marathon
participants started together, 100 warriors surging into battle. The
field's cool grass chilled my calves as we ran toward the trees, and
soon we entered a shadowy forest, the trail narrow and gradually
rising. I was in the back of the pack, unable to pass due to the uneven
footing and the tall grass beside the path. Most sections of the first
mile were walked due to the upward slope. When the path opened a bit I
ran, passing, wanting to expend some energy.
We entered the ice
age trail, moving toward Devil's Lake. As we neared the first aid
station my recovered knee began to feel weak. I was surprised by this
because I had done heavy training during the past 2 months with no
problems, and I was coming off a 2 week taper of low mileage. Thoughts
of not finishing the race began to haunt me, but I tried to keep my
composure. 28 miles remained....
After leaving the aid station
we returned to the woods, the trail a moderate up and down. The path
soon changed from dirt to uneven rock, and I decided that walking or a
slow jog was the safe way to cover this short section. After leaving
the rocks the trail meandered through a mix of dense prairie and
verdant trees. I was feeling happy and ready for a challenge. I looked
up at the brilliant, cool blue sky, thankful to be out in the day
running and feeling the power of life.
Reaching the 2nd aid
station at mile 6, I stopped to retrieve my drop bag. The course would
eventually loop back to this aid station at mile 20, so I stuffed a
couple of gels in my pocket, drank a v8, sucked down 2 spoonfuls of
honey, and continued on to Devil's Lake.
After 2 miles of easy
running I entered the park campground, which was well marked. The
campground roads were hilly and I meandered around until reaching the
Lake Aid station.
By now my knee had begun to ache and feel
stiff, and I considered dropping out of the race. The idea of quitting
while I was still able to move forward did not seem right. The run had
now become more than a battle with the course and my overall fitness,
from this point until mile 26 I was to run in constant pain. How was I
going to react to this challenge, would my resolve crumble, my mind
break into a complaining nag? I was curious to know how everything
would turn.
As I left the aid station and passed the park
headquarters, it occurred to me that this could be my last race in a
while. I came to a steep paved road. The runners around me were
walking, and I would have liked to walk also, but I discovered that
running hills hurt less than walking them, so I ran intermittently,
walking only to catch my breath and give my legs a rest.
When
the road section came to an end we entered a trail of stone steps which
led us to the top of the bluff. The views of the ever diminishing lake
were inspiring, and some runners stopped to stretch, take pictures, and
enjoy the moment. By this time I was trying my best to run with the
pain, allowing it to be, and not be overly concerned about it. I was
determined to enjoy the challenges of the day, and pain was now a part
of it. Accepting it seemed to be the best idea.
Fortunately my
fitness level appeared equal to the course, as my breathing was steady
and leg strength on the hills solid. As I worked my way slowly to the
top of the bluff I remembered the Sioux sun dance mentioned in the book
Black Elk Speaks. Pain was a purifier, a way to a better understanding of the self and the world - today was my sun dance.
Another
recurring thought was hell and nightmares. Even though I was surrounded
by the beauty and calmness of nature, attempting to run long distance
on the rugged terrain made things appear in cold black and white. At
any moment my energy could evaporate, leaving me with a recurring dream
I have of running slow as a turtle.
It may appear that the pain
and morbid thoughts were a drag on my psyche, but the intensity of the
run thus far had brought on a seriousness and focus which made
everything seem light and happy. I love the music of Mahler, and on the
finale of his 8th symphony were the words "to be serious is the
greatest joy". Amen to that.....
I am not sure how long the
bluff run was, it felt like miles, but in reality it was probably less
than a mile. Before reaching the top a few runners passed us going the
opposite direction. As this part of the course was not a loop, someone
was going the wrong way. Had the dreaded "getting lost at a DWD race"
happened to me?
A runner close by spoke out, "I studied this
route precisely, I know we are going the wrong way. This is my first
marathon - damn!" I also had thoroughly studied the course, but my
conclusion was that we were going the correct way, by reason of how
could so many people be running in the wrong direction?
Topping
out on the bluff, I stopped a brief moment to look at the lake below. I
decided I wanted to return to this place another time for some hiking
and relaxation. As I moved away from the viewing boulders, that
comforting thought disappeared, replaced by concentration upon my
footwork to navigate safely down the rocky bluff.
After leaving
the rocks I turned onto a descending dirt/gravel road. I watched a man
in his 60's chugging along not far from me. I had the desire to go
faster and allow gravity to increase my pace, but my knee prevented the
attempt. When I got off the road I crossed one of the park highways and
then headed into an overgrown field of weeds. The tall grass made it
difficult to see the uneven ground, but I did a good job picking up my
pace without falling.
After leaving the field I turned into a
trail-less woods. Numerous pink flags marked the correct direction to
proceed, but as I had caught up with 3 runners, I simply followed as we
jumped over fallen trees and big rocks, and got scratched from thorn
bushes. The leader of our forest running group was walking most of the
time because the footing was poor, so I also walked, having no desire
to attempt a pass.
Mile 13 and the Burma Road aid station was
approaching, but I had lost interest in miles and time. All that
mattered now was to keep moving, watching the sun and sky, drinking and
eating - to run long and love it.
About 1/2 mile from Burma Road
I started to run with ease, the speed increasing, I passed several
runners and followed a young woman into the aid station, which was set up in a shadowless prairie. The day was getting warmer, so I poured
some water on my head, downed a gel, and eyed some cut potatoes. In
various race reports which I have read, aid station potatoes are
usually eaten reluctantly because of their poor taste. I was feeling
the need for salt, so I decided to try one. Expecting a raw, hard piece
of nastiness, I was pleasantly surprised as I bit into the soft, salty
tuber.
Feeling a bit cooler and rested, I left Burma Road and
headed into another trail-less woods for more log hopping and stone
stepping, my legs getting more cuts from thorny plants. I crossed a
road and continued going down, and finally arrived at the shore of
Devil's Lake. The shoreline was a narrow, weaving slab of asphalt which
wended through various sized boulders. The sun slanted across the
shining rocks and made me squint. I could see 4 or 5 runners ahead of
me, and I tried to maintain a moderate to quick pace as it was mostly
flat. I did not care for this part of the run so much because there was
no shade, and the trail surface was hard on my feet. I was happy when
it came to an end and I returned to the Lake Aid station, mile 15.4.
I
tried to take my time at the station as I had overheated. I drank some
water, poured it on my skin, ate another potato and pretzels. I watched
some of the runners get quickly in and out of the station, but I did
not want to rush, so I rested and stretched for a minute or two. The
run was half over, and I was hanging in there - appetite was good, no
blisters. I had peed only once, which I have learned is normal for my
body. In warm weather I don't pee, no matter how much I drink. It is
what it is....
I left the aid station somewhat refreshed and
started running to the other side of the lake for more bluff climbing.
I got onto a dirt road that ascended for what seemed like a long time.
I passed some runners here as it felt better to run than walk. One of
the runners I had passed at the beginning of the road cruised by me
near the top, maybe my running had inspired him? He looked strong.
When
the road came to an end I turned onto a rocky bluff which looked
similar to the bluff I had climbed earlier. For a few minutes I thought
I had taken an incorrect turn and was on the wrong bluff, but as I
climbed upwards on the rocky steps I saw a few transcendent boulder
formations that were one of a kind. Maybe this is where the devil hangs
out? By now, approaching mile 18, I had gotten used to the pain in the
knee, it was a part of me, like a crooked finger or blackened toe nail
- not pretty, but I am comfortable with it, and it seems normal.
While
obviously not running my best, I had still managed to achieve a trance
running state - time evaporates like water on a hot skillet, running
feels easier than sitting in a plush recliner, the slide show is set to
automatic, and the beauty of the world flashes like a neon sign out
front of a transient hotel.
Reaching the top of the bluff, I arrived at the South Bluff aid Station. Post-race the Head Goat wrote, I have to believe the South Bluff aid station was the most dramatic setting of any aid station in the world, I hope ya had a second to take it in.... Running down the rocks and
entering a sun drenched field, I could feel my quads on edge. I was
dangerously close to reaching the point of no return, where the legs
give out and refuse to get back into running mode. Fearful of having to
walk the final 12 miles, I slowed down a bit, calmed my breathing, and
made it to the Steinke Basin aid station at mile 20, where I accessed
my drop bag for the second and last time. I made sure to rest and
regain the strength in my legs. I drank 2 cans of V8, ate sea salt
potato chips, slugged a gel followed by honey and water. I walked to
the aid table and ate a potato chunk and pretzels, then soaked my head,
arms and legs with water.
As I stood in the hot prairie sun, the
water on me evaporating, a female runner looking dazed and confused
asked me if she would be returning to her drop bag. I asked what
distance she was running and if this was her 2nd time at the station,
but she replied "I don't even know anymore". She needed one of those
salted potatoes, fast.
As I got ready to resume my run, I thought "I don't want this to end, I am having too much fun".
I
was now running the first two legs of the race in reverse, 6 miles back
to the start, which was to be followed by a 5 mile loop up and down
snow-less ski slopes. A little more than 4 hours had passed, so the sun
was gettin' up in the sky, relentlessly throwing down its summer heat.
Yeah, it felt good!
In a stretch of uphill prairie I was
following a guy in his 60's. He was moving slow, but so was I because I
could not pass him. I stopped and leaned on a small tree, did some side
leg lifts, stretched my calves, then caught a burst of energy and soon
passed the guy, running pretty hard into the Rave aid station. I ate
pbj slices and potatoes, mmmm. The guy came in, then quickly left,
while I was still stuffing my face with food. I was starved, which I
felt was a good sign. I was still waiting to pee, though.....
The
lovely female aid station workers told me, "be careful on the upcoming
trail, it will be easy to trip with tired legs." I heeded their call,
but knew a slight lapse in concentration could have me eating dirt or
laying unconscious on a smooth stepping stone.
By this time I
had passed and been re-passed by the same 5 or 6 runners all morning.
Now again I came upon 2 guys and 2 girls who I had been running with a
few times previously. I tucked in line and we followed a tricky single
track. My allergies were getting bad so whenever I had to blow snot out
of my nose I would slow down and get further behind so as not to offend
the runners ahead of me.
I was starting to feel good again, my
quads had recovered, and I was moving with a quick ease. We got into
the final aid station before the start/finish line and once again I was
the last to leave. I liked the potatoes too much and did not like to
rush.
The final 2 miles were downhill on the ice age trail. The
path was rooted and rocky, narrow and twisting. It was easier going
uphill on fresh legs, but with the end in sight for the marathon
runners, the speed and intensity was picking up. A guy in front me
yelled out in pain and fell in a heap against a tree. I stopped and
gave him some encouragement and help. He had suffered a severe leg
cramp and could not stand. I stayed with him for a few minutes, along
with another runner, until he could stand and smile. The other runner
helping said, "what a shame, your dirty and your shirt is ripped."
"This is nothing, you should see the runners when they are coming down
the trail at Leadville". Indeed....
5 minutes later, at mile 25,
I heard a scream from behind and I turned back to see a lady laying on
the ground, grasping her calf. I went back to her and she said she had
a calf spasm. I stayed with her a minute or two until she was able to
stand.
Before getting to the end of the trail I tripped twice on
roots, but had luckily balanced myself to avoid falling. 200m from the
finish area was an aid station for the 50k runners, as we still had 5
miles to go. I once again took my time, eating potatoes and a gel,
filling my bottle, splashing water on my head. With no more aid
stations and probably another hour of running, I wanted to make sure I
had enough energy to finish without bonking.
I left the aid
station with the 2 guys and 2 girls who I had followed earlier. We got
onto a wide, grassy ski slope, going up. We walked most of this
section, and for the first time since mile 7, my knee no longer hurt. I
felt relief, and wanted to start running before it started hurting
again. After 2 miles of slugging along like a turtle, potato power must
have kicked in, because I felt fresh as a daisy. I passed the line of 4
runners, the front girl turned to me and jokingly said "want to race?"
"Noooo, I know the end is near, and I want to make sure I have nothing
left at the finish". "There you go", and go I did.
I got up to
10k speed and held it for the final 3 miles. I passed 8 runners in
about 10 minutes. One girl heard me fast approaching and turned around
to look at me with disgust. Her expression made me laugh, she must have
took me to be a relay runner who had gotten lost? I did not give her
time to tell me to %#$@ off because I passed her quickly and soon was
out of sight.
The empty, abandoned ski slopes were creepy and
forlorn, with lonely, black chairs hanging ghost-like in the silence. I
thought of those 70's slasher flicks and would not have been surprised
to see a man wearing a hockey mask with axe in hand.
On the
final 400m downhill I could not slow down due to the steepness, and my
right hamstring spasmed, while at the same time my left foot landed too
hard on the ground. I was able to keep the pace though, and in the
final 800m picked up even faster.
With 400m to the finish I saw
a runner staggering along. I was going to pass him too close to the
finish - that was not right, but I was not going to slow down for that
reason. When I passed him, spectators were ringing bells and cheering,
and the runner must have got pissed because he passed me with 100m to
go, no way I was going to catch him, he was a good sprinter! I was
happy that he had crossed the line first, and as we slowed to a stop I
slapped his hand, smiled, and said "I wanted to make you work for it!"
We had crossed the finish together 6 hours and 22 minutes after
starting this heaven and hellish adventure.
I was bent over,
breathing heavy as if I had just completed a 5k. My knee was shot,
hamstring sore, foot derailed, thighs ripped from thorn bushes, but I
felt refreshed and not very tired. I wanted to keep running, but knew
the race was over. I let out a sigh and went searching for a boiled
potato.
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