Last fall, I received an email from Vandy Montana that contained this link:
Before I even clicked on the link, I knew it was going to be a ridiculous race that I would end up agreeing to. And sure enough, as soon as I clicked it and saw the ghetto 1993 website and race logo, I instantly emailed him back with a... "yeah, sure. I'm in."
It's funny how a race seems so doable when you're more than 6 months away from it. I didn't really read too much about the race, I just saw that it was a 50 mile race in Utah and it sounded like fun. And, to be honest... anytime someone asks me about some crazy race that requires travel and trail shoes.. I'm going to be into it.
We started seriously talking about it and we both decided to sign up for the lottery when it opened on December 1.
And then... late one November night I got a drunk dial from Vandy Montana at 3am. It was about a week before the sign-up and in his drunken stupor, he happened to mention that he'd "be really pissed" if I got in and he didn't. "After all," he cited, he was "the one that found the race." He continued to go on to say that if I did get into the race and he didn't, that he'd "probably" pace me, but he'd be bitter about not being in the race.
And that my friends... is how I became a pacer for him in his first Ultra Marathon. I decided right then and there, that even though he was drunk and being melodramatic, I knew there was likely some truth to his drunken slurring and that I wasn't willing to risk getting myself into running a 50 mile trail race in Utah with a pissy, bitter pacer.
So, the next day, when he was sober, I informed him that I wasn't signing up for the race, but that if he got in and wanted me to, that I'd go out to Utah and pace him for the race. And that's how I found myself flying out to Utah last Friday morning...
(Little did we know that everyone who was on the waiting list ended up getting in... ugh.)