3 Day - Day 2

Day 2
Morning came waaay earlier than we wanted it to. I was the one responsible for the alarm clock for our little team of three, but ten minutes before my watch went off, the portalet doors began to slam, and a man in the next tent was seriously intent on hacking the phlem globber that was obviously bothering him. Good morning, Shawnee Mission Park! I unzipped my tent flap and practically rolled out due to a body that was telling me "forget it!".

We saddled up with all of our gear, and staggered to the Mess Tent. The coffee was brutal but effective. The eggs were hot, and I think there were bacon and bisquits, but I don't really remember. I just know that I practically folded the paper plate in half and funneled the food into my mouth. It's like my body knew it was in for another one, and I was just as ravenous in the morning as I was at each pit stop the previous day.

Here we are at the trail head for Day 2's route, looking like we have no idea what we are in for. And, we really had no idea what we were in for. We are holding up 2 fingers for documentation purposes. :)

Right out of the gate we began having problems. Nikki had spent some time in the medical tent at the end of day one getting some pretty hardcore blisters lanced. The relief is immediate, but the long term benefits are scarce. Her blisters grew blisters. She trudged on like a trooper, willing herself to the cheering station where our families would be waiting.

We began noticing at most pits stops, and especially at lunch, that people were shedding shoes & socks and old bandages right there on the ground where they had planted themselves to eat. If we weren't operating out of the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, we would have been thoroughly grossed out. But there we all sat, holding sandwiches with one hand, while using the other to intently examine blisters and other unsightly growths. The following pictures are blister documentation from lunch, Day 2:

Nikki's heals were her worst problem. This shows how her blisters grew blisters.

I grew a big fluid pocket smack on the bottom of my foot, but wrapped it before it broke. Managed to keep it in tact the rest of the event & it has since just faded away.

After I took the pictures of mine and Nikki's feet, I put my camera away. Kata protested, asking why I wasn't documenting her blister. I said, "Okay, Kata, I'll take a picture of your little pinkie toe blister. Let me zoom in". We had a good laugh, but those blisters on the outside edges of your feet can really hurt!

Once we reached the cheering station, Nikki was in pretty bad shape. Other than her blisters she would have been fine. But after a medical volunteer told me NOT to lance my blister (he said, "lancing causes more problems") we realized that Nikki may not have received the appropriate medical advice at the end of Day 1. So, after hugs & pictures with the families, she got into a sweep van and headed back to camp. She missed out on 9 miles of sheer hell.

Nikki with daughter Alex & son Owen at the cheeering station (mile 12.6). The sweep van waits for her in the background of the picture.

I was greeted by Jeremy, Sarajane & Julia. Brother-in-law Justin came too. Apparently we were slow enough pulling into the cheering station that my in-laws Jane & Everett had to give up on us and go on with their errands that day.

We were about 2 hours later than we wanted to be, but we were all slllloooooowww that day.

There were no more pictures for Day 2. The rest of the route was just Kata & I trudging along. We were barely pulling into pit stops before they closed. The heat was beating down, and we were on the "Pflumm Hills" part of the route that had become legend among Kansas City 3-Day veterans.

At one intersection, a man and his children had obviously spotted their mother about 15 people in front of Kata and I. They ran across the intersection to greet her, and the youngest (no more than four) just jumped into her mother's arms in tears. It made us all cry. So I'd say for a good mile, Kata and I (and others) just walked and cried and cried and walked.

My big problem on Day 2 was my bladder. I must have been hydrating appropriately, because I could barely make it from pit stop to pit stop. At one point, I waved down a sweep van to take me to the next pit stop. The waved back and indicated they would be back for me. I was only about .25 miles away from the next pit stop, but I had to GO! I waited and waited, and they didn't come. Finally, I just beat path to the pit stop, but I was MAD!

A sidebar on portalets: By late morning on day 2, I finally just planted my hiney on the portalet seats. By then, my quads were in NO shape to hover, and it was so nice to just sit, regardless of where it was. They were very clean portalets, but that wasn't my rationale. My rationale was the fact that I could get about 45 seconds of sleep while nature called. Literally.

5 and some-odd miles to go, and the blessed phone call came in. It was Nikki reporting from camp that the weather report didn't look good (tornado watches/warnings). The loudspeaker at camp was announcing that campers should put all gear in their tents and take charter busses to a nearby warehouse with their sleeping bags and pillows. Nikki was picking up some intel at camp that the warehouse wasn't air conditioned. We decided as a team that Nikki would break camp and pack us up while Kata and I finished. Nikki's husband would pick us up and deliver everyone to their homes for a good night's sleep. Then we'd drive back to camp and hook up with the warehouse victims and start Day 3 as planned.

Dang my bladder again! Once more, I stepped off the route and flagged down a sweep van. I told Kata that I was done for the day, and good luck. The van took me to the next (and last) pit stop so I could pee and hop on a charter to go back to camp. I sat on the portalet (fully) and told myself that I put in a good showing for the day, and it was okay to bail on the last 3.5 miles. Then, as I sat on the air conditioned bus waiting to go back to camp, I saw Kata walk into the pit stop. I mustered and rallied and got off the bus to rejoin Kata. She got doctored at the med tent for a while then switched to her crocs for the rest of the route. I was told by the sweep van driver that I had only lost .75 miles of the route by being swept where I did. Getting back on the road was the right thing to do.

At the onset of the day, we all packed our secondary shoes. Kata's were the traditional Crocs, and mine were just some Old Navy flip flops. I was so envious of Kata's crocs - it seemed like she was doing better in them than the tennis shoes. So I took off my tennis shoes and socks and donned my flip flops. Big mistake. So then I decided to try plain ol' barefoot. I thought about Barefoot Rick (www.barefootrunner.org) and how feet are naturally made to support our bodies, yadda yadda yadda. However, pine needles and black walnuts weren't part of nature's plan for my barefoot. So - the next variation was to put my socks on and walk barefoot with socks. That didn't last but 50 feet. I was appalled at how quickly my socks became dirty, and I love, love, LOVE my Wigwams. So my last various was Asian inspired, with socks & flip flops.

Sadly, none of these shod variations made it to film, but I thank Kata for her patience as I planted my butt on the ground time and time again in the last mile & a half to find something that would get me back to camp. About 1/2 a mile from camp, I finally put my tennis shoes back on, and realized it was my best option.

Jeff (Nikki's husband) picked us up at Camp and we drove through Taco Bell on the way home. We all inhaled our dinner wordlessly. I think some went through my nose, but that's okay. It made it to the same place.

Hit the hay (my own, with a tempurpedic mattress topper) at 9pm. The brutal Day 2 was officially over.