Bataan- March 30, 2008 (Read 468 times)

Anyone do Bataan this year? I did it in the military light category again with a blazing time of 8:50, that's hours not minutes. The uphill that starts after mile 6 got me again and my legs gave out. Only one small blister, a sore knee, and bruises on the bottom of both feet but I finished. To anyone who ran it, wow!! bataanmarch.com

6:30a, March 30, 2008. Bataan Memorial Death March at White Sands Missile Range outside Las Cruces, NM. Temperature's in the low 60s F and there's a breeze out of the west. The opening ceremony calls the roll of the Bataan survivors who have passed away since last year's march, as well as those who are still with us today, two of whom I had the honor to meet yesterday. A bunch of dust gets in my eyes. The Star Spangled Banner, followed by a flyover by an F-117 from Holloman Air Force Base, and we're off. Mile 1 9:16 Mile 2 9:07 On pavement, slight downhill. Pace is 15 to 20 sec too fast, heart rate is about ten beats too high... need to slow down. Mile 3 9:33 Top off the water bottle at the water stop early in mile 3. We head off the pavement onto a hard-packed sand road. Glad I bought those $12 gaiters. My pace is a little better, but still 5 or 10 sec too fast. Mile 4 9:07 Mile 5 9:41 Fill up again at the water stop after the mile 4 marker, then duck into the porta-john. This takes a half-minute, which means my pace still is about 20 sec too fast. Oh well, forget about it and drive on. Mile 6 9:20 Mile 7 9:56 Top off at the third water stop early in mile 7. My mouth is dry and I'm thirsty, but my stomach is sloshing; must be sweating it out faster than I can absorb it. The course turns west into a stiff breeze and starts uphill. Suddenly laboring, I glance at my watch and see my heart rate has spiked 10 - 15 beats; this rise is steeper than it looks. I hadn't planned to walk yet, but having gone out too fast the first six miles I figure I'd better save something for the big-arse hill coming up, so I swallow my pride and walk a minute. Mile 8 11:29 Mile 9/10 23:00 Around mile 8 the course turns north onto pavement. Water stop followed by a couple tenths of flats as we pass under Route 70. The course makes a short jog to the east, then left to a northwest heading. Now we're on the long uphill shown on the elevation profile. The west wind's coming in on the port bow, not strong enough to be a serious problem, but combined with the 5% grade and the rising temperature, enough to convince me I'd better gallowalk this bad boy if I want to have anything left in the tank after the halfway mark. I miss the Mile 9 marker, but it doesn't matter because these splits are measured in epochs anyway. Pass by a misting station... ahhhh. Mile 11 12:17 Mile 12 12:10 Mile 13 13:06 Mile 14 11:14 Somewhere around the mile 11 marker the course leaves the pavement and veers left onto a sandy road. Still going uphill, and in deeper, looser stuff than the sand road back in miles 2 through 8. I'm really glad I bought those $12 gaiters. Heading almost dead west now, straight into the wind but mostly shielded from it by the hill (which is about the only good thing to be said for this endless PITA of a hill). According to the elevation profile the top of the hill is just past mile 13. Not, ha ha! More like 13.5 or 13.8. After the water stop the downhill finally begins. Curve to the left around the edge of the hill and -- holy cow! -- incredible view of the valley and the Army base... I can see for miles (and miles and miles and miles and miles... oh yeah). Try to relax and let gravity do its thing... Mile 15 9:34 Mile 16 9:19 Mile 17 9:49 Mile 18 11:05 ...right up until a series of little trailie rollercoasters in miles 17 and 18. The elevation profile doesn't tell the story of this part of the course. Heading east the wind's at our backs, and that helps, but the sand still is loose underfoot and the temperature's rising. Much energy is expended. (Actually, at this point I'm done, but haven't yet realized it.) Mile 19 9:25 Mile 20/21 22:41 Mile 22 14:52 Back onto the pavement around 18.3 or so. Downhill, with the wind coming in on the starboard quarter, I try to cruise and recover. Mile 19 and most of 20 go by at around 9:25 pace. I miss the mile 20 marker. Pass under Route 70, then another water stop. Early in mile 21 the course turns to the right, off the pavement and back onto sand. This is the infamous Sand Pit. Loosest footing yet, not quite ankle-deep as I'd read in one race report, but not shallow either; more like the average beach above the high-tide mark. Now I'm really, really glad I bought those $12 gaiters. Almost a mile of this, uphill and straight into the wind. Not runnable by mere mortals. Mile 23 10:30 Mile 24 12:43 Mile 25 14:24 Mile 26 12:06 Mile 26.2 1:50 After the sand pit, the course levels and turns south so the west wind is coming across the starboard beam rather than head on. The footing improves, and in mile 23 I make a feeble attempt to get back on pace. After the water stop early in mile 24, the course turns west along a stone wall along the base perimeter... heading straight into that infernal wind again. A Butterball thermometer pops out of my hide. After passing a water tower the course makes a left -- heading south again -- and the bloody wind is still in my face! How the bleep can it be coming from two directions at once?! Eh, I'm probably hallucinating. Walk-jog-stumble the last couple miles to the finish. After the finish mat I stop to talk to Abel Ortega, the POW who had addressed our group the previous day. I chat with him for a couple of minutes. He apparently loves to talk and seems to be geniunely enjoying himself. Lots and lots of dust suddenly gets in my eyes. I'd happily listen to him all day, but I need to move along as I'm monopolizing his time. I thank him profusely (and his family also, for going to the trouble and expense of bringing him here year after year). Gun time was in the low 4:50s. One of my travel compadres greets me after the finish. He'd finished in 4:20:something, ten or so minutes off his projected time. He said he thought I might catch him as he struggled over the last few miles. This is the funniest thing I've heard all day. We hang out around the finish. Two more from our group are still out there. At half past noon, with the temp in the upper 70s F and the wind getting stronger, the third amigo finishes, salt-encrusted but looking strong. Two hours after that, the temp has climbed well over 80F and the wind's making dust devils when the last of our crew comes in. He was out there seven and a half hours, long enough that we had checked with the medics to find out if he had dropped. Ha! No way. He's no spring chicken but he's tough as nails. Great race. Great weekend. I'm fortunate to have had the opportunity to run this race while some of these old heroes are still around, and grateful for the fine company of those I ran it with. "We're the Battling Bastards of Bataan, No mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam, No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces, No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces, And nobody gives a damn." Remember. Always.