68 Days - The Wasatch 100

It was approximately 2:45am on Sunday morning when I was woken by a tapping on my window. It took me a few minutes to realize where I was. I looked outside of my rental car and there was Dmitry's first leg pacer, peering in at me and shining a bright flashlight in my face.

"Summer? It's time..."

I had set my alarm for 3am... Dmitry's new ETA to arrive at Upper Big Water after running an hour and a half late to mile 40. He was apparently a bit early, but still running behind schedule. It was my job to take him from there to the finish line in Midway. I had arrived in Utah that afternoon for this very reason. I bundled up and quickly ran to the aid station, about 1/10 of a mile down the road to begin our long journey.

After Dmitry got some soup and warmed himself by the fire, it was time to get moving. I could tell that he was tired and beat up, but he was no longer relying on his body. His heart and determination had taken over. There would be many ups and downs over the next 40 miles, literally and figuratively and it was my job to make sure that the figurative ones remained as 'up' as possible.

An 'up' had taken over about 10 minutes into what most ultrarunners lovingly refer to as our 'death march.' That usually takes place late into the evening of a 100 miler, where running is impossible, both because of visual purposes as well as the body's scream to the mind to stop and sleep. He recounted to me the past 22 hours and how ridiculously difficult the course had been thus far. We laughed about it and the challenges that were ahead of us. We had 14 hours from this point to cross the finish line in Midway. One would think that was a lot of time.

The climbs were intense. I had never experienced a course this extreme in terms of elevation and technicality. When one challenge was over, another one presented itself, beating us up harder than the one before. Even as a pacer, I knew I was out of my league here. This was an entirely new level of ultra.

"I am not going to make it, am I?" Dmitry kept asking me.

"Yes you are," I would respond confidently, although at this point I didn't even know if I was going to make it.

To finish the race, the preferred time to arrive at the Brighton Aid station at mile 75, is 7am. We arrived there shortly after 8am. I was pleasantly surprised to see my friend Catra awaiting her runner. She was pacing as well. While Dmitry was in the restroom, we began to talk.

"We are going to make it, aren't we?" I could see the doubt in her eyes.

"It's difficult from here. It is better to be here a little earlier. You have some steep climbs ahead." I nodded a thank you.

I quickly led Dmitry out the door as we followed the ski lifts up to our hardest climb of the day. he was definitely having his doubts about finishing, but my job was to believe in him. If I stopped, if a moment of doubt came into my voice, game over. I could sense that this strong, confident fighter was in a rather vulnerable place. After a very long climb of 30 minutes miles into 10,000 feet of elevation, we felt more like rock climbers than runners. Finally it was time for our descent. As we raced down the trails, suddenly one just seemed to come to an end.

"Did we go the wrong way?" Dmitry asked me.

I looked down... "Uh... no..."

Down the side of what looked like a cliff were the flags marking the race course. "You have to be kidding me," Dmitry said, defeated. We both took a breath, sat down on our butts and began to slide down the hill. Before long I was laughing. There was nothing else we could do. He joined me. Finally at the end was a runnable section, Dmitry's forte. He raced through the woods as I struggled to keep up with him. Although it was down, it was still very technical.

Around mile 90, we began to get close to cut offs. As we struggled up another hill, Dmitry stopped and turned around. "Summer, I CANT do this anymore."

"What? You want the helicopter to come get us?" I said jokingly. We were absolutely in the middle of nowhere.

"I HAVE to quit," he said, a little angry. "I just CANT do this."

"Dmitry, there is no shame in timing out. I will have the same respect for you if you push with everything that is within you and still do not cross that finish line as I would if you show up at Midway in under 36 hours. But there is a lot of shame in quitting because that hill just looks too tall. I KNOW you can do this. I'm not giving up on you, please don't give up on yourself."

With that, Dmitry became even more angry, but not with me. He was angry at the course. He didn't want to let it win. Determination filled his eyes as his speed quickened. My legs were shot on the downhills so I told him that when we reached the last few miles to throw down his stuff, I would grab it, leave me behind and push with everything that was in him. That is exactly what he did. Dmitry crossed that finish line in 35:30! After getting lost, I showed up about 30 minutes later. He was beaming. I could see tears in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around me.

"Thank you so much!"

I smiled. "No, thank you for letting me be a part of this. I KNEW you could do it!"

We stayed for the ceremony and celebrated with a big Olive Garden dinner. I was on the first flight back this morning. I made sure to get a window seat so that I could say goodbye to my mountains and let them know that I would be back one day, when I was ready to take on the Wasatch 100 myself.