Chapter 10
CHARLIE
No one is happy. Everyone is cold. This is a disaster.
Kalispell was hit by a late-season snowstorm overnight. Six inches of fresh snow cover the ground. And our run course.
“I can handle a little cold!”
“I flew all the way from Texas for this event!”
“Well, I flew in from Ireland!”
“Let m-m-me out there. I trained all y-y-y-year for this marathon!”
Yesterday’s ultra-marathon had beautiful weather, but today’s races are cancelled. Most of the athletes are understanding; a vocal few are not. As a company, we can’t risk someone getting hypothermia on course. Oliver made the right call to cancel, but it’s a tough one.
The race operations team is zipping around on golf carts to get barricades and signage from the course and break it down.
The expo and finish line are still up; they’ll be the last to close.
Some families are still milling through the race village, stopping at sponsor tents for freebies or information on their products. The mood is sour.
“Raj, I apologize for this terrible mess,” Celine pleads behind me.
“You didn’t make it snow. It’s all good. We got tons of footage yesterday,” Raj reassures her.
I’m guessing Celine is nervous about how FIRE will be portrayed in the video he will post to his millions of followers. I turn round to see if I can help.
“Raj, do you and your team need any help rescheduling your travel? Has the snow impacted any flights?”
Celine shoots me a sharp glare. I can’t understand how she is mad at me right now. I’m trying to help. She, of course, has flawless makeup and styled hair that looks perfect under a knit FIRE beanie. How did she even think to bring one?!
Raj responds with his casual nonchalance. “Eh, we’re good. Hey, what are you guys doing with the finishers’ T-shirts?”
“No finishers for these distances, so no one gets a shirt. We usually work with a charity to donate them to children in need around the world.” Just like the losing team shirts at the end of the Superbowl.
“We’re doing a big project in C?te d’Ivoire in a month. Think you can get the shirts to us by then?” Raj asks, seizing the opportunity. “The shirts still get donated, and then I can do a callback to my video about this race.”
“Raj, that would be wonderful. You are so thoughtful to make this offer,” Celine says as she touches her hand to her heart. “Please give the details to Charlie,” she instructs and then turns to me, as if waiting for me to write down the shipping information.
I hand Raj my fresh business card. “Have your team send the details over this week,” I say, as Raj smiles and pockets my card.
Ahmed walks up, a rolled-up tarp slung over his shoulder. “Hey, man, I can route the shirts to go on the truck that’s heading back to Tampa. They’ll get back to the depot much faster than if they stay on the regional truck.”
Raj nods and responds with, “Cool.”
“That’s perfect, thank you!” I say to Ahmed so he can stash the bulky load on his shoulders in the proper crate.
I’m surprised by how well everyone is working together this morning.
A freak snowstorm has thrown everything into chaos, but our crew is business as usual.
I look around to see where I can pitch in and help, knowing I can’t go off on course and be too far from Oliver in case he needs something.
Our travel team is already adjusting our flights.
We’ll leave the park in two hours to head back to our hotels and check out.
As I scan the snowy park, I spot a man running.
I assume he’s a local who is braving the cold for his regular morning run, but then I spot a FIRE race bib pinned to his chest. I turn to Ana.
“Oh no, we have a rogue runner,” I tell her.
He’s not a race bandit; he paid for his entry.
But he is running the course even though we’ve cancelled the event.
“Good luck with that,” Ana says before returning to the merchandise tents to help pack away everything that didn’t get wet with snow.
I approach the man hesitantly. He isn’t moving particularly fast. “Sir, we cancelled this morning’s race. I’m so sorry, I have to ask you to stop.”
At first, I think he doesn’t hear me, so I start again. “Sir, the race officials have deemed it unsafe to run in these conditions.”
My fingers and toes are numb from the cold; my thin layers are barely enough to keep my teeth from chattering. I can only imagine that he is feeling the same, although his movement must be giving him some warmth.
He pauses and catches his breath. “I’m not leaving without crossing that finish line,” he tells me. The man is about my height with deep brown skin, and he has about one hundred and fifty pounds on me.
He wheezes and I start to worry he is having trouble breathing, but it could just be the cold. I reach for the walkie-talkie on my hip. “I’ll radio for a medic,” I start to say.
He shakes his head. “I had a heart attack last year,” he begins.
My eyes widen and my own heart rate accelerates. I need to get him help immediately!
He shakes his head and smiles at me, his breath normalizing.
“I’m not having one now. It scared my wife, my daughter.
I told them I was going to run a half-marathon while I was still in the hospital.
I said I would lose the weight and get moving a hundred times before.
But the heart attack scared me to action.
” He lifts his hands from his hips and wipes his nose, which is running from the cold.
“You did the hard work to get here,” I remind him.
“My daughter, she’s only ten, she got up with me every morning to help me train.
She had water bottles ready before I left.
Had a smoothie ready when I got back. I’m not about to show her what quitting looks like.
What a broken promise looks like. She’s going to see me cross that finish line.
” His eyes meet mine and I see his resolve.
I can hear it in his voice too. The peaks and valleys of the journey he has been on.
Fighting for his health, for more time with his family.
How the weather and snow on course is one more challenge in his way.
The last of many. Nothing I can do is going to stop that kind of willpower.
It’s one I recognize, like for like. A drive I once had, one I had to abandon. “Run, walk, or crawl, right?” he says.
That sells me on it. I nod with my head, indicating for him to keep going. Once he has gone ten feet, I reach for the radio again.
“We have a guy trying to finish the half on his own. He is about two miles out. Is the finish arch down yet?”
The radio squawks. “No, that comes down last. Want me to pull him?” I recognize the race director’s voice.
“You ever seen a running back make it to the endzone with three defenders trying to pull him down?” I ask, trying to give him a visual of what I expect would happen.
“He’s trying to finish for his daughter; he made her a promise to get back in good health.
Let’s get some of our team to the finish line to give him a real FIRE ending. ”
“You’re pulling on my heartstrings here,” the race director quips back. He’s got two kids at home too and I know he’s thinking what I am. FIRE is all about endurance, pushing limits, and challenging fixed mindsets. It’s about changing lives and inspiring others.
“See you at the finish,” I say, and I pocket the walkie before dashing over to the merchandise tent and telling them my hasty plan.
Twenty minutes later, the staff and even some of the sponsors from expo are lining what is left of the finish chute.
I’m standing closest to the chute when the man rounds the final corner and the thirty of us erupt in applause.
You’d think we were at Exponential Endurance – the FIRE World Championships – with the energy we are bringing.
My colleagues are cheering and clapping.
“You got this!”
“Almost there!”
“Endure to the end!”
It may be the cold wind, or perhaps the rush of emotions at the sight of the finish line, but I spot some moisture on the runner’s face.
He is running at a speed that is barely faster than a walk, but he is making progress.
He scans the faces at the finish line. I know he is searching for his family.
They were easy enough for me to find. They were the only group huddled near the finish with a neon-green sign that read GO, DADDY, GO!
He’s in the chute, and I can tell the second he sees his family on the other side of the finish line.
His face erupts with a wide smile. Usually, only VIPs who pay extra receive a medal from their loved ones.
It’s a security risk and also super inefficient.
But we’re already breaking the rules, so we might as well make it the best experience.
I pulled one finisher medal and shirt before we loaded them onto the truck.
He crosses the line and his girls envelop him. The whole family is crying. Happy tears. Bittersweet tears because of the health journey he’s been on.
A hand lands on my shoulder. I turn to see Oliver smiling down at me, a twinkle of a tear in his eye. He gives me a nod and then heads over to the family. They break up their hug and Oliver extends a hand. The runner brings him in for a bear hug instead.
Raj and his cameraman capture the moment. The footage will be gold, and this is a wonderful keepsake for this family.
Celine is beaming at Raj. No doubt she’ll take the credit, but I don’t care.
For the first time all day, I’m not thinking about how cold I am. How much fallout there will be from the cancelled races. The logistical nightmare. Instead, I’m smiling, crying too. And I remember the unquestionable joy that running brings to people.