It's a few days after the race, and I'm back in Texas after spending a week in New Mexico. It was so much fun to be back in NM to enjoy the scenery, food, and friends, and not necessarily in that order. I was able to spend time with people I hadn't seen in over a decade. It never ceases to amaze me how easy it is to reconnect with old friends, almost as if we hadn't been apart for more than a week.
We started out the visit with a 4-mile run on Thursday, kind of an altitude test/acclimitazation. It was interesting because this run was at 4300 feet above sea level, as opposed to the 700 foot plane we experience in Texas. After running on the south end of Scenic Drive we found a trail that snaked into the foothills to give us some off-road exposure. It wasn't the best of easy runs, but it helped.
On Saturday we headed for the Missile Range, not knowing what to expect. We planned on spending the night in a tent if there was room. When we arrived on the access road, the line was at least fifty cars deep. We spend some time in that line until the left lane started filling up with cars moving past us a lot quicker. I finally got tired of waiting, figuring that maybe I should have moved into the other line earlier. That didn't work out as planned. That lane was for people who'd already been through the initial screening, so we had to turn around and get back in the other line. All in all it took us two hours to get into the facility.
I was surprised by the number of people camping. I thought there might be a couple dozen tents and a few RVs, but instead a few thousand people were spread out all over the south end of the base. We staked our claim to a piece of ground and drove over to pick up our packets. That was uneventful other than the line, but it moved quickly. Once back at the tent we unloaded and sat around until dinner. The pasta dinner was also uneventful, and then we went back to the truck and enjoyed some down time with music and an early bedtime.
During the night the wind picked up and at times it seemed someone was standing outside, grabbing the tent, and shaking it as hard as they could. We woke up about 4:30 a.m. and started the process of getting ready. Fortunately the wind died down to a breeze.
We made the starting area by 6:15 and stood around in the cold. I brought trash bags as a shield from the wind, but they didn't do much for insulation. The opening ceremony was touching, including the reading of the names of the Bataan survivors who had passed since last year's march. The three attending survivors were introduced by roll call, and the American and Filipino generals welcomed us. A chaplain offered a great prayer, and then a medical Blackhawk performed a flyover. After the survivors moved to the starting line we exited the corrals. As we approached the start a race official told us we could shake hands with the survivors but to be careful and not squeeze their hands too hard because they're fragile. I shook hands with all of them and told them what an honor it was for me. I meant it. Then the march itself began.
The first couple of miles were crowded and went pretty quick, with a stop at mile 2 to use a relatively uncrowded restroom. We also walked at the subsequent two-mile intervals, as planned, and then began the journey toward the great uphill. After we crossed under the highway before mile 9 a lady in front of us fell. She was walking and her shoe caught on a crack and she went down pretty hard. I would guess her to be over 60 years old, but we helped her up and she insisted on continuing. Her knees and elbows were a little bloodied, and it must have all turned out right because she passed us in the last couple of miles of the race.
After mile 9 the big uphill began and we started our odyssey of walking quite a bit. The route took us around Mineral Hill, a mountain just barely detached from the Organ Mountain chain. The back side took us up and down through the ridges, and we finally arrived back on the pavement uphill of mile 19. It was downhill for a while until we reached the infamous Sand Pit. This stretch of ankle-deep sand went on seemingly forever. By the time we exited that area and ran a little more we were almost too tired to run any more. We walked most of the last two miles along the perimeter wall, with a final run to finish in fine form.
Once again I got to shake the survivors' hands since they were also at the finish. I read a book a couple of weeks ago on the Bataan Death March and I honestly don't know how anyone survived it or the hard labor that followed. We had drinks and food every two miles, but those men marched all day without water, food, or rest, and then slept where they stopped. All with the constant threat of being bayoneted or beheaded. What remarkable men.
To conclude the race we received a surprisingly decent meal and drinks. After eating we headed back to Alamogordo. As we drove by the course we could see several thousand people still walking. This was the toughest course I've ever run, but was easily the most rewarding experience of any marathon. Even though I don't plan on doing it again (once was enough) I'd recommend this race to every runner or walker. The only complaint I had was getting through the gate, but that was a minor irritant. Everything else was first class. I've been wanting to do this march for several years and glad I finally got the chance. Now it's time to rest for a few weeks and then decide what's next.
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