Read e-book I Kissed a Sheep: 44 Hours of the Hardrock 100 Ultramarathon

Andrea Feucht

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Andrea Feucht is now following. Andrea Feucht liked a quote. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moon or the slipper of its coming back. Well, yes, especially a kiss. Nov 18, And hurry as fast as you can along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust. Then, go to sleep. Give up your body heat, your beating heart. Geddes Author of A Familiar Rain.

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Need a place to Well I've run out of things. Follow us on Twitter: Land of Enchantment — 32 members — last activity Jan 24, DeadReads — 58 members — last activity Jul 07, The first two miles of the climb up to Pole Creek went well, but, then, somehow things went awry. Above treeline I began to labor and as we made our way out into the large grassy basin of Pole Creek I began to panic a bit. At long last we arrived at the Pole Creek Aid Station mile The nice volunteers bantered with Scott and I as we gulped down some coffee and prepared for the climb up and over to Maggie Gulch.

I knew this one was going to test my mettle, but at this point I convinced myself I had no other choice. Unless something tragic happened, I was going to walk this thing in.

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In short, the trip over to Maggie Gulch mile 85 was absolutely brutal. Two and a half hours to go 4. Looking back on it now, I am not sure how I did it but I got there. Somewhere along this stretch I developed a rhythm of walking 2 minutes and resting 30 seconds and, then, just repeating that over and over again. Any time I tried to keep moving for longer than two minutes at a time I was overcome with fatigue and my legs threatened to stop working. So, I just did whatever I could do. Scott and I sat in Maggie Gulch for about 10 minutes doing what had become a usual routine by now; eating, drinking, whining, asking how far to the next aid station and how much climbing was left.

At this point, however, I knew full well what lay between me and seeing my crew at Cunningham Gulch; 6. And there was only one way to get there. Three excruciatingly long hours later I stumbled into Cunningham Gulch mile 91 and met my family: Scott had a quick chat with Shelly and I sat down to cry. We circled the wagons by our car and just talked. Oddly, having finally arrived in Cunningham, 33 hours after the start, I felt calm. I just had no idea how on earth I was going to drag myself 3, more feet over Dives-Little Giant and on to Silverton, simply no idea.

Shelly started handing me hot dogs, which I wolfed down, someone else handed me an ice cold Coke and Logan began to take off my shoes and socks. Jack Bolan , a friend from Richmond, Virginia who had driven all the way out to volunteer, set me up with a mattress and a sleeping bag and I quickly collapsed. He wanted a chance to talk just to me before the others got there to tell me the plan.

For the next few hours all you need to worry about is getting over that damn mountain. Andy Jones-Wilkins swallowed his pride and stuck it to the finish of the hardest race of his life. He inspires me and I am so proud to call him my dad! The rest of the crew came into the tent and the finish plan was hatched. Born with a heart of a lamb and the spirit of a lion, Shelly made the executive decision that Carson should be the one. And he most certainly was the right choice. As we embarked on that inexorable march up Little Giant, Carson was there behind me at each excruciatingly small step.

He cheered me up when I needed cheering, cajoled me into standing up when I took a bit too long of a rest, and made me feel like there was no doubt whatsoever that we would make it to Silverton. After parenting him for 18 years Carson was, in three short hours, returning the favor. The descent down to Silverton, while long and slow, was a bit of a blur. Once summiting Little Giant we knew we were going to finish and it truly was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other.

Many runners streamed past us as we picked our way down the roads and trails outside Silverton and once we made it back to town, across the bridge and onto 14th Street, I was filled with gratitude.

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In seconds, the melancholy cloud lifted and I ran a few strides up the street and down the chute to that special kiss of the rock. And, just like that, 41 hours and 51 minutes after I started, the most difficult run of my life was over. I will be learning from this one for years. Kudos on growing some amazing kids: Races like the one you described are the really important ones. And I guess you son nailed it with his fb post. AJW — thanks for being honest, there is strength given when you share your moments of weakness.

I was so glad to get a chance to see you come through Cunningham and help in any way I could. I was slapped by the enormity of the San Juans as I arrived and the amount of work it will take for me to possibly finish that run. A great journey it is…. A good friend just sent me the link to this review with a solid recommendation.

Ultra is almost always at its best at its ugliest. This is a gorgeous tale AJW. This was a really great account of your experience in the San Juans.

I set aid stations for this a couple years ago and my reverence for the mountains resides deep within me. Your account moved me deeply due to the your camaraderie with others and family. They have much to teach us when we listen…hopefully one day I will have a family that will be as supportive and full of love as your own.

Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. You can also subscribe without commenting. This Week In Running: Consistent climbing up Grant-Swamp Pass. Anxiety creeps into Chapman. With Carson the Caretaker. Post-race chat with Kilian. There are 38 comments Rich July 25, at 2: Markus July 28, at 8: Another HR finish in the book and one you will never forget.

AdamCondit July 28, at 2: Jack Bolan August 12, at 9:

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