Jim’s Blog

Jim May 24th, 2010

(Unpacking this experience is going to take more than one post. Here’s part one – just the facts.)

Maybe it was my lucky orange shorts. Maybe it was an angel named Gabriel. The time clock of my life read 00:10:00. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick tock; just in the nick of time I made it.

My friend Gabe and I left Nashville at 3:00 a.m. for the Rock/Creek Trail Marathon on Raccoon Mountain in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Contrary to weather reports, there was cloud cover and it felt relatively cool – great conditions for running 26 miles in the mountains! I took a false comfort from those clouds, which proved costly later in the day.

We hit the trail at 8:00 a.m.. I quickly discovered why they called this the Rock/Creek Scenic City Trail Marathon. There would be these places along the trail when suddenly a vista would open through the trees and you’d be looking across a wide peaceful valley and rolling hills on the horizon as far as the eyes could see. Sometimes it felt like this must be the most beautiful place in the wide world and I felt like Forrest Gump, taking it all in, feeling it all, and giving myself over to the majesty of the moment with each stride.

The marathon name was also accurately descriptive – lots of rocks to navigate and creeks to cross. Perhaps a more accurate name would have been the Rock/Creek/Hills Marathon. There were some steep elevations, and the trail was more rugged than I expected. I like challenges; this was one; perfect! I fell on my ass a few times along the way, which only served to double my determination. This damn mountain was not going to defeat me! Whether it was running out or stumbling out I was gonna make it out and look back with that Lance look when I did.

There was cloud cover, which meant no hot sun beating down. But it was humid. I remember thinking at the mid-way point that it was strange that sweat was already pouring off those orange shorts down my legs. I was losing a lot of water but I felt fine and kept pushing on. During any marathon or ultramarathon there are moments when you have to decide within yourself that you will endure whatever the cost. Your mind will try and talk you out of it but you dig deep, find that other gear, and keep going. I had a few of those moments, one of them after a hard fall. I’ve always been a survivor. I wasn’t gonna stop now.

26.2 miles later I did make it off that mountain: victory! I felt great! Sure, there was the typical aches and pains but nothing unusual. We hung around for a while for the post-marathon stuff, and then headed back to Nashville. About 20 minutes down the road I began feeling strange. I asked Gabe to find a place where I could get a milkshake, hoping it might pick me up. As he pulled off at the next exit, I realized something was seriously wrong with me. I was not okay; everything was shutting down. I fell over in the seat unconscious.

In the parking lot of a Hardees, Gabe frantically began searching for help. He asked someone where the nearest hospital was. He was told he should go back to Chattanooga. What Gabe did next probably saved my life, which was simply asking someone else. He quickly drove over to the nearby gas station and asked someone else, telling them it was a medical emergency. Turns out, there was a medical center just down the street. He rushed me to the ER. When I was pulled from from the car I virtually had no blood pressure. It was heat stroke. For 26.2 miles the sweat pouring down my arms and legs was not evaporating, causing my body to overheat and cause dehydration to fatal levels. Doctors in the ER took immediate action. They told Gabe that had he decided to take me back to Chattanooga I would have not survived. Given my lack of blood pressure, body temperature, dehydration and unconsciousness, doctors said I had about ten minutes left or I would have died.

Okay, you with me? I had ten minutes to live. I made it. I’m still here. Part Two coming.

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