Running on Empty (35 page)

The wheelman would get and follow the daily directions, provided by Kate and Amira. In the west, like on Highway 50 through Nevada and Utah, the directions were simple: Head down the highway. But, in the east, especially through big cities and on the winding roads of Pennsylvania, following each and every turn, twist, landmark, or street sign became more of a challenge; thus the crew repurposed campaign signs, as well as balloons, to mark most turns.

The wheelman would also be responsible for keeping electronics charged: two Sirius satellite radios, which the crew would swap out for me, iPod, digital camera, video camera, and mobile phones so that the crew van could always be reached . . . when there was cell service. I never carried my phone or BlackBerry; focusing on running, not checking calls or e-mail, was plenty for me to do. Heather took care of communications and “real life” stuff so I didn't ever have to think about it.

Behind the front seats, the crew kept a cooler of clean ice. They used a funnel to scoop ice from this cooler into my water bottle, which was filled with whatever Muscle Milk concoction I was having, or to put ice into my drink glass, always a red plastic Solo cup with a bendy straw. A second cooler held drinks: Ensure, DoubleShots, Frappuccinos, soda, juice, and food that needed to be refrigerated, like yogurt, deli salads, fried chicken, cheese, etc.

On the back bench seat, we kept a collapsible laundry basket of dry, non-refrigerated food items, like trail mix, crackers, and cookies. Within this basket was another basket with other supplies, including the cups and straws, paper towels, sanitary hand wipes, Kleenex packs (toilet paper), and ziplock bags, as well as medical-type supplies: the Mylanta and Orajel for my mouth rinse, the OTC elastic knee and ankle braces, and so on.

In the back of the van, a mesh laundry bag held night gear, including that stuff I hated to put on. We had headlamps for the crew, reflective vests, reflective leg and arm bands, and safety lights, including red flashers.

Also in the back of the van, under the closet, was some extra kitchen stuff (glasses, trash bags, paper towels), as well as a fanny pack that Dr. Paul used sometimes when he would run along with me while crewing. On the other side of the van, behind the backseat, were extra shoes, as well as a bag of sponsor-branded T-shirts.

I did take a few prescription medications during the run: a statin for high cholesterol, a hypothyroid medication, a twice-daily asthma prevention medication, and a prescription sleep aid. The only other prescription medications I took were the anti-inflammatory injection Dr. Paul gave me after diagnosing the plantar fasciitis in Delta, Utah, and a generic form of the antibiotic cephalexin for an infected toe in Ohio. I never took any kind of prescription, or narcotic, pain relievers.

We kept a variety of over-the-counter medical supplies on hand, including knee and ankle braces, the stuff we needed for my lipshit (Neosporin gel and Carmex), pain reliever (generic ibuprofen), and ingredients to make Dr. Paul's highly effective mouth-sore potion (Orajel and Mylanta). I also used the Strassburg Sock to stretch the plantar fascia at night.

One of our sponsors, VQ OrthoCare, provided us with proprietary products and on-the-road support, including two that proved invaluable:

Robert Spieler from VQ OrthoCare also provided the following:

The RV was home base for Heather and the crew, so all of their clothing, some bedding, and personal stuff (which was limited: Everyone packed light!) was kept in the RV. GoLite provided sleeping bags and a couple of tents, and Pacific Outdoor Equipment provided sleeping pads, camping chairs, and inflatable pillows. Extra shoes from Champs were stored under our bed in the back of the RV. Food for my meals and meals for the crew, along with food and drink for the van, were constantly purchased and on hand in the RV, along with ice to fill the coolers in the crew van. The rented RV came with dishes and pots and pans, although we supplemented the supply with a few items, including the Vita-Mix, a toaster, and a coffeepot. Power cords and chargers to run cell phones and computers, as well as numerous road atlases and state road maps, were always floating around, especially when Roger was helping to track the route and preparing the daily planners.

Something that I always looked at in the RV was the NEW YORK HERE WE COME sign that Kathleen put up when we were in Nevada, above a map of the United States with “bubble” marks for each of the planned days of the run. As I went along, I crossed off each day, each chunk of seventy miles, a visual representation of how far I had to go, or how far I had come.

The United Way “Live United” campaign was the designated charity for the transcon, in particular their programs to fight childhood obesity, a worthy cause. I continue to work with the organization to promote fitness.

I'd hoped to include the Religious Teachers Filippini in the fund-raising efforts associated with this run, but that didn't work out. However, I still support the sisters, and personal donations by friends and family continue to help this cause. It's my charity of choice, and a portion of the profits from this book will go to their project, AIDS Orphans Rising. You can learn more about the charity's good work on my website,
MarshallUlrich.com
, and at
AIDSOrphansRising.org
.

The following sponsors have supported my athletic career for several years, largely by providing me with their excellent products to use during extreme endurance events. Those whose names appear in boldface provided products for the transcontinental run; ENGO/Tamarack Habilitation has continually provided financial sponsorship, including money for the run across the United States.

The companies below sponsored
Running America,
the documentary. Those whose names appear in boldface continue to provide support for me as an endurance athlete.

The following were partners/product sponsors of Running America, the event:

Page 1.
Inspiration, circa 1981: My late wife, Jean, with our daughter, Elaine, who's nearly three here, in one of the first photographs taken of the two of them together.

 

Page 13.
Badwater solo crossing, July 1999: Pulling everything I need in this cart (water, food, clothing, medical supplies), I'm on my way to complete a 146-mile self-contained and unaided solo crossing of Death Valley and summit of Mount Whitney.

 

Page 14.
Badwater Ultramarathon, July 1991: Going through the Badwater basin, I'm running below the Funeral Mountains. The desert is a humbling environment, harsh but shot through with beauty.
Photo by Sean Arbahi

 

Page 30.
Meeting my hero, Ted Corbitt, November 2006: Ted is almost eighty-eight years old in this picture, snapped as we talk about what it would take to run across America, the history of ultrarunning, the Bunion Derby, vegetarianism, and Ted's legendary contributions to our sport.

 

Page 42.
Leaving town, September 22, 2008: Gaining altitude coming out of Austin, Nevada, I'm heading into the high desert on day ten. Although I'm sleep-deprived and sore, the rising elevation feels good, bringing cooler weather and stretching the arches in my feet.

 

Page 56.
Starting line, September 13, 2008: On the steps of San Francisco City Hall, I'm looking out at everyone, busily getting ready and thinking,
What the hell have I gotten myself into? Only 3,063.2 miles to go . .
.

 

Page 70.
Therapy-to-go, September 17, 2008: Near Fallon, Nevada, massage therapist Kathleen Kane and orthopedist Dr. Paul Langevin work me over. It's hot and miserable, and everything hurts, including my Achilles, from running seventy miles a day for the last five days.
Photo courtesy Kathleen Kane

 

Page 95.
Americana, October 25, 2008: Passing by one of many farmsteads we've seen in forty-three days on the road, I'm running with the Stars and Stripes streaming overhead this time; an old motorcycle decorates a nearby garage roofline.
Photo courtesy Dave Thorpe

 

Page 96.
Nevada/Colorado border, September 29, 2008: Entering my home state, where I was born and raised and still live, I'm excited and relieved to be on familiar ground. After seventeen days of running and intermittent but intense feelings of isolation, I'm also eager to see family and friends who are planning to meet us.

 

Page 124.
Fat foot, November 23, 2008: Three weeks after completing the run across the United States, my right foot is still significantly swollen from two major injuries, plantar fasciitis, and a tear in the tendon.

 

Page 142.
Rumbling and rambling, October 9, 2008: Escorted by choppers through McCook, Nebraska, I'm enjoying the roar of the engines and the company of local easy riders, Mitch Farr (left) and Blaine Budke (right).
Photo courtesy
McCook Daily Gazette

 

Page 162.
Amish Country, October 29, 2008: Trudging up endless hills in Pennsylvania with the snow falling in autumn, I'm in a mood that suits my surroundings: waning, withering. But I'm also feeling the pull of New York City. Now on day forty-seven, we're so close!
Photo courtesy Bob Becker

 

Page 172.
Can-do crew, September 30, 2008: Eighteen days into the run, early in the morning, and west of Maybell, Colorado, Kathleen Kane (on her supposed day off and wearing pajamas) works on my back.
Photo courtesy Kathleen Kane

 

Page 180.
Stray Dogs together again, October 4, 2008: My longtime friend and racing companion Mark “Mace” (left) and his son, Travis (right), come out to run with me near Fort Collins, Colorado, and head into the Pawnee grasslands of the eastern plains. Mace's company always means a lot of laughs, hours that pass like minutes, and sound counsel.

 

Page 199.
Finish line, November 4, 2008: Heather, laughing and crying at the same time, embraces me on the portico of New York City Hall.
Photo © Sheri Whitko Photography

 

Page 200.
State of elation, October 21, 2008 : Running toward the Indiana sign on day thirty-nine, I'm excited to pass another important milestone and eager to resolve some troubles brewing behind the scenes.

 

Page 210.
Small packages, October 13, 2008: Although I felt depressed and hopeless earlier on day thirty-one, when I lock eyes with the Beasley baby around midnight, just west of the Iowa border, it all falls away.