Lake to Ocean 100K - 2022 "My Happy Place"

Some places capture your heart and never let go.  Magical places where unicorns sip champagne and rainbows lead to actual pots of gold.  The Lake to Ocean Trail in South Florida will always be one of those special places for me.  Only good things happen for me there, only and always good things.

The 2022 “summer edition” of Jeff Stephens’ Lake to Ocean 100K was to be my eighth start since its inception in 2014, I’ve never missed toeing the line here. A 62-mile battle from the eastern shore of Lake Okeechobee through a loosely connected string of wild and largely untouched places to Hobe Sound Beach on the Atlantic. But it came within a hair's breadth of not happening this year. My 81-mile DNF at the Keys 100 two weeks again took an unusual toll on me. Massive fatigue, bloated limbs, and ear-splitting headaches plagued me for 10 days afterward. For several days I thought I might have a liver failure in process due to miscommunication with a nurse over lab results. Then my doctor tentatively misdiagnosed rhabdomyolysis. Stubbornly, I clung to the thought of starting, even if it meant dropping at the west guardrail into Dupuis 3 miles from the start. Finally, on the drive south I got the call from the doctor, rhabdo was definitively ruled out in my latest bloodwork. More likely it was some hyponatremia and significant heat stress from trying to run too fast (for me anyway) from Key Largo to Key West.

The plan was to run easy, stay well within my limits, pair with Andy Mathews, and “enjoy the day”.  The first 15 miles through Dupuis went just as planned, we ran comfortably in unseasonably cool and pleasant conditions as an almost tropical storm rolled in the day and night before the race and through race morning.  We discussed careers, told stupid jokes, and met CJ from the South Florida water district also running the race.  We were pretty close to the back of the pack and just taking our time.   Despite all of the rain, Dupuis was dry as was the beginning of Corbett.  But shortly after the first aid station at Powerline, things begin to change.  Andy started to suffer, and I realized I felt good.  Really good.  Better than I had felt the past two weeks by far.  We talked it out, and 18 miles in, I took off.  With the course this dry, I felt like I could motor and maybe post a really good time…   Wrong. 

By mile 19, the trail started to show water on it.  Not bad, nothing much more than a foot or ankle-deep, but enough to slow me down.  I came into the second aid station at Grade Road optimistic the terrain on the other side of the shell road would be drier.  Wrong again.  200 yards into the third leg, I caught Kailynn Violette and we pushed each other through the next 18 exceptionally wet and difficult miles together.  2022 was supposed to be the first dry year at L20 in some time, the weather had not dropped much rain this spring.  But the storm had dropped an immense amount of water over the past 36 hours and everything was suddenly flooded. We traipsed through water ankle-deep, shin-deep, knee-deep, and occasionally thigh-deep.  It was difficult going all the way to the 31-mile mark and the third aid station.  And then it got worse in Hungryland with long stretches of deep water.  The sun came out, the perceived temperature rose and things got even tougher.  A couple of miles into the equally wet Loxahatchee Slough, Kailynn’s knee began to slow her down and I forged ahead alone. 

With no company to converse with, I turned my entire focus onto the course in front of me and forged ahead as fast as I could.  Which is not saying much while trying to run in shallow water.  The beauty of the course is astounding, the wildlife everywhere.    The top ten highlights:

1. 15” baby gator we spotted in the canal in Hungryland.  This was a rare day through L2O without seeing any big gators.
2. Millions upon millions of minnows created ripples along the surface as they scattered before my splashing through the water.
3. Some type of fat orange-reddish fish I could not identify, I saw several along the edge of the trail.
4. The exceptionally large crawfish bowed up when he saw me, thrusting his pincers as high up in the air as he could, looking as large as possible.  He was NOT backing down as I skirted by.
5. Not 5 minutes later a decent size crab did the same thing, except he scuttled sideways letting me pass unchecked.
6. Midway through Loxahatchee Slough, I was slowly running in ankle-deep water, focused on following the trail through the grass.  Coming the other way down the flooded trail was a 2 ½ foot water moccasin in beautiful brown and black and yellow. It was headed straight at me in a typical serpentine locomotion swim, I assume hunting minnows.  When it saw me, it quickly curled into a striking position with its head 6 inches out of the water.  Fortuitously, I stopped even quicker, roughly 4 feet short of his position.  Threat abated, it turned and swam off into the grass along the side.   That encounter kept my adrenalin high for a good bit as I contemplated where Jeff would have to send the EMTs to get me if the outcome had been different. 
7. I was making my way through nearly equally wet Jonathon Dickinson Park as dusk approached and the tree frogs began their evening chorus.  A single tree frog can be loud, hundreds of frogs make an incredulous sound as they seek sexual partners for the night.   I laughed to myself as I imagined I was in a giant singles bar for tree frogs, with all of them calling out, “Look at me!  I am THE one for tonight!!"
8. As darkness set in I saw a runner sitting on the ground 100’ ahead of me, their headlamp shining red back at me.  Or so I thought.  Suddenly the runner stood up smoothly – and then soared through the night air.  It was some kind of bird with huge eyes reflecting red in my headlamp. 
9. Finally, still in JD, leopard frogs out and about for the night began crossing the trail, leaping into my path repeatedly.  I nearly fell several times trying to avoid an inadvertent Squish.
10. The only thing I didn’t see were the unicorns, but I know they were out there.

The final aid station just past Riverbend Park is known as “The Zoo”.   My daughter Rebecca has become quite an expert as a crew in the past several years.  She got me refueled and resupplied for the final 15-mile push, she was money all day long.  Mark Cudak was also there having come back from stringing a rope across the flooded, swift-moving, and chest-deep Hobe Creek crossing.   Mark good-naturedly re-enacted the infamous Vaseline handshake from 2014 (a story for another day).  

I headed out hoping for drier conditions only to find miles more of the wet trail to plod through.  I had the oddest notion as the trail crossed under the Florida Turnpike and I-95 and then parallels it north for a couple of miles.  Just a few hundred yards to my left, semis barreled down the pavement, drivers rolled along in their air-conditioned cars, oblivious to what myself and two dozen other intrepid souls were attempting in plain view from the interstate.  Trudging along the trail on tired legs, and wet feet, sharing the trail equitably (and with the crawfish, crab & snake, not so equitably) with a variety of wildlife; I may have well been on another planet as those gas and electric fueled travelers.  The dichotomy was striking. 

Finally, with about 6 miles to go, the course dried up and I could smell the finish.   I put in some strong miles to close it out with the traditional plunge into the Atlantic Ocean, 15 hours, 56 minutes after I started.  I earned a 7th coveted finisher’s buoy and if you include the Just Survive 125M races, my 9th successful leap into the ocean.  I wish I could adequately describe the positive feeling of those final hours on the course.  Lake to Ocean is a stiff test on any given day and had been particularly difficult this year with close to half the trail underwater.  But there had never been a single moment in the day where I faltered or questioned my ability to push through.  I have had so much success, and so many joys here, there was never a doubt in my mind about how it would turn out.  It remains one of my happiest places on earth.  

Jeff is starting a “winter edition” of L2O this year on Halloween weekend.  There is no doubt about where I will be on the morning of October 29.  I can’t wait.