Chris (the tall one) was giving me grief the other day for not mentioning him more. I pointed out that he actually conducted my first interview in Ultrarunning magazine and could have asked questions like, “So how much longer would it have taken you if Chris hadn’t been crewing for you all day?” or “Would you say Chris was 99% or just 98% responsible for your strong finish today?”
He is right. He deserves more coverage. Here is my first Chris story for you:
When I ran Rocky Raccoon in 2009, it was my first 100 and I had no idea how I might fare. I came to the race directly from my grandmother’s funeral. That, coupled with mind-numbing inexperience, had me running much longer than I expected. I didn’t plan to be walking at 1am and I hadn’t prepared for a drop in temperature in the middle of the night. (It can get darn cold-ish in Texas in February by the water.) I was cold. Not hypothermic, but darn cold — and darn tired and sad — and digging deep. Now, I’ve heard people describe friends with “He would give you the shirt off his back,” but I’m guessing I’m one of the few people who can back this claim up with proof. Chris gave me his shirt (the one off his back) when he realized how cold I was. Scroll back to the picture if you want an idea of how I looked in Chris’s shirt. He did gripe about how he would have spent more time doing ab work if he knew he was going to be walking up to aid stations half naked, but, really, he couldn’t have been more gracious. Chris also made sure I got up from my naps at mile 80 and 81-ish. Anyway, there are many other (perhaps not as flattering) Chris stories to be told, which I will share if he continues to give me a hard time. Did I mention I will be pacing Chris at Cactus Rose at the end of the month and Eliot has offered to let me use his program’s head mounted camera?
And, for the record, Chris is not actually a giant. Check out the size of the Garmin.