Andy, a Companion for when I Fell

"This is the most runnable part of the course!" I exclaimed. I would soon eat my words.

The Wawayanda 100 mile race was comprised of three loops which were between 6-7 miles each. The second of the three loops was definitely the most runnable. For a few miles, it was wide trail, packed dirt, and even flat!

I was delighted to be running with Andy, my newest friend. One joy of ultra running is getting to meet new people and run together. This has been a feature of every ultramarathon (any race over 26.2 miles) I've even done. I met Ben during my first 50K, Oliver and Willis at the Bear Mountain 50, Ryan and Trishul at my first 12 hour race and Tyler and Jason at the Tesla Hertz 100 miler. Ultramarathons are always adventures and because most of the time is spent in isolation, time with new friends is a gift!

Andy and I connected about three miles into the race and immediately fell in step. His companionship, pacing, and storytelling was a gift! I quickly learned that Andy had never even run a marathon before and yet signed up for 100 miles. I LOVE THAT! He wouldn't be the only person I met heading out attempting their first ultramarathon before even running a marathon that day! (I hope to write about Nick, the guy I met looking for cigarettes another time).

"I'm just going for it! I have no idea what will happen, but want to give it a shot!" This was completely outside of my realm of possibility. How could someone do this? I would be afraid of getting injured, failing, and not finishing. Surely something would go wrong without appropriate training.

However, when I saw Andy after he decided to drop out (after 52 miles!!!), he was beaming. I was beaming too: thrilled for his accomplishment. We shared some sort of COVID appropriate celebration (maybe a fist bump?) at the aid station and I was quickly on my way to another loop, in the darkness at that point.

I will never forget Andy for two reasons - one being significantly more important than the other. The first is how he came to start a non-profit in light of devastating personal tragedy (I may write about this another time - it deserves it's own post and Andy's tenacity and joy are reflections of his experience). The second came ten miles into the race.

Andy and I had fallen into a comfortable pace, alternating walking and running and a familiar banter. I love how a couple of miles together on a run makes someone feel like an old friend fast.

"This is the most runnable part of the course!" I exclaimed. No sooner than these words exited my mouth did my feet find a root, I tripped, and make hard contact with the trail below. Not only did I cut my knee, but I had fallen on my shoulder with such force as to rip a hole in my shirt.

Was my race over? Did I re-injure the knee I had hurt a couple years ago? Would this impact my ability to run the way I wanted to? How would I recover from this fall?

In the past falls had shattered my confidence and ruined race plans.

"Are you okay?" Andy immediately stopped and helped me get up. It was his calm thinking and compassionate tone that helped me cooly assess the situation.

My knee was cut and bleeding, but not badly. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be any residual knee pain. My shoulder was sore to the touch and covered in dirt, but didn't seem to be a larger issue. My hands were scraped badly from the fall, but not bleeding and seemingly okay. Furthermore, I didn't hit my head and it appeared the injuries were all surface level.

I walked it out a little bit and slowly adjusted into a jog to see how my body adjusted. Again, Andy was right there both encouraging me as I got moving and helping me check the adrenaline coursing through my body. I don't know what it would have been like if I had been running alone, but I know that having Andy with me in that moment helped me wisely assess the damage, slowly test out my body, and keep my mind on straight through the process.

We finished out the second loop together and he left the aid station before me as I got the first aid I needed. I was the first customer and the race directors had to find their kit amongst the numerous boxes of ultramarathon supplies they brought. After rubbing down my shoulder and knee with hydrogen peroxide, I saw that the cuts were minimal and covered easily with a bandaid. I would however retain a scar on my knee as a reminder.

And I still smile every time I put on my grey Athletes InterVarsity shirt with the hole in the right shoulder - a visible reminder of what's possible after we fall down and are covered in dirt.

I caught up with Andy a little while into the loop and updated him on my status. We stuck together for another few miles before he decided to slow his pace, making sure to run his own race. The next time I saw him would be after his 52nd mile - quite an accomplishment!

That fall was only ten percent into the race. It's never a good time to fall, but an early accident like that had shaken me in races past. However, the compassionate companionship of Andy in that crucial moment made it possible for me to not just make it to mile 11, but all the way through to the finish, 90 miles later. Thank you Andy.

How often do we fall ten percent into a project, goal, or dream and then take it as a cue that we should stop? That this project is too much for us? That the goal was too ambitious? How often do we see the cuts and the bruises and assume it will only get worse and we don't have what it takes?

Maybe more powerfully, how many of us have Andy's in our lives? People who are with you when you fall, with you when you get scraped and bruised and with you when you're worried about your future? It strikes me that your Andy doesn't need to be someone you've known for a long time - it could just be 10 miles. Yet having someone who is compassionate and present is a tremendous gift.

The past two years have been hard. I suspect we have all fallen, all been scraped and bruised and all worried about our futures. I hope you have an Andy in your life - someone who can be compassionate and present with you when you're running and on your way and more importantly when you've fallen down, scraped your knee and worry about what's going to happen next.

Thank you Andy for being there for me. I will never forget you and hope we get to run together again (but without the whole falling part!).