This post will be a rolling commentary on what Trevor wrote about Stage 6. I'll post what he wrote in italics and quotation marks, then follow up with my comments.
"Instead I had a different variety today" He's referring to the challenge he would have today, which was mostly exercising patience, minimizing frustration with me, and trying to motivate me. I know the feeling. I did 8 days of Outward Bound in 1999 and despite the constant reminders from Outward Bound to train hard for this endeavor, several gals in our group showed up woefully unprepared. Instead of long distances, big climbs, and hard days, I had to do what Trevor did today. It's not terribly fun. Guys like us aren't used to using these skill sets; we'd much prefer the ones that make us cross-eyed with exertion. Alas.
"But today JP was in so much pain that he told me he couldn't talk." Indeed, conversation on the steep (read: painful) downhills of stage 4 were great for me. Today, I needed to think. I had to figure out how to manage the pain, how to shift my gait to be faster, how to, basically, keep moving forward. I couldn't come to grips mentally with how awful this situation was. Had it been a hike I would've bailed on the road and called for a ride. Had it been a solo race I would've...I don't know. Quit? Laid on the ground for a while? Just walked at whatever pace I decided was comfortable? Had it been a training run, I never would've started. It was none of these things, though, and I had to figure out how to get it done. The answers were not apparent. In the end, it was simple. Gut it out, tough it out, finish it. It's not going to be fun, it's not going to be pretty, but you're out of options, so deal with it as best you can.
"We have never really raced/trained together, thus we have never experienced each other in Camp Shit while competing. So I didn't know how to react when things turned bad." These were the same questions I had in the early stages of the race; I wanted to call KJC and ask her what to do. I still don't know what I need to hear when I go bad. Historically it's been my stomach, which just takes time to clear. But this was altogether different. There wasn't much help anyone without a needle and some pain-killers could do for me I don't think.
"I do recall in Stage 1 JP telling me when I was in the red, that when he goes, he goes hard. It was all happening as he said." Cut to Trevor Mills, Mark Beaty, Andrew Kurzon, Joe Aubin, Matt Berrien, and David Bertino all nodding in agreement.
"I also continued to jog albeit at a very slow pace and sometime in place. I wanted to keep going. I'm not sure if this shuffling of feet behind him was motivating or annoying." It was highly encouraging. I remember thinking, "Geez, if he's still jogging, I must be walking really fast!" I told you my mind had seceded from the union.
"I had constant fears that an argument/blow out between us was imminent. These were uncharted waters for me and for JP and I." Haha, had I only known at the time, I would've calmed Trevor's fears. I had no energy to be pissed off. Though when his Garmin shit the bed (mine had quit at mile 4, perhaps its way of telling me to bag it up) with 1 mile to go up the climb, and beeped every 5 seconds, I wanted to rip it off and chuck it in a stream.
"I also insisted that he eat something. Unfortunately all we had was gels." You've never seen someone eat a 1oz gel in 5 slurps over 10 minutes before. I was in a - bad - way.
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