There’s a time in our lives; we start again on writing our part; as the story goes on; it’s the rule we remember our lines (Good Old War)

As I sit here nearly two weeks after my time "in the desert", I am still struggling with finding the right words to describe my experience. Badwater was about Chris…his race, his dream, his goal…I was just along for the ride. Little did I know that every moment leading up to that point would ultimately affect its outcome. I changed out there. This is is my Badwater Report, but honestly it is how Badwater changed my life. I guess when all else fails, just start at the beginning. That is what I have decided to do. It is long, but nothing could be omitted. If you choose to read it all, thank you…if not….maybe someday you will be ready. Until 2 weeks ago, I wasn't even ready myself.

Twelve years ago, I saw a shy, handsome, young surgical resident in the corridors at VUMC. After several failed relationships and a genuine hatred toward men, I easily pushed his "cuteness" aside. I knew that the only thing that was important to me at age 22 was to be independent. I would change my own tires, move furniture, make my own money, etc., etc. The only thing I knew for sure was that I did not NEED a man in my life. It was certainly more about WANTING a man in my life. I was done with whatever everyone said I needed. Fast forward a few years. The shy resident finally asked me out, I said yes and we were engaged a few months later. What does any of this have to do with Badwater? Stay with me…

Remember when you were young and you felt invincible and that nothing could ever happen to YOU. All of that badness and misfortune happened to other people, not YOU. This is a great sense of security, but it does not exist. God has a funny way of stepping right in front of you when the time is right and reminding you of who is in charge. This came in the form of our first child, who was stillborn, Cady Kathleen Roman. Born August 21, 2000-Died August 21, 2000. All of a sudden I was holding a heart shaped box that contained her ashes and wondering where to go from here. Well, thanks to divine intervention and my wicked fertility genes, we quickly got pregnant again. Again, you are probably thinking where is she going with this….just read on.

Years passed, we had 2 healthy baby girls, and Chris and I grew apart. We were just so different, yet we loved one another greatly. We spent many months merely existing as I grieved our child and our failing relationship. Chris worked, I never saw him and we weren't sure if we even liked each other anymore. Chris found running and I found every reason to resent him for it. Marathons turned into 50k's, 50ks to 100 miles and not only did he love it, he was GOOD at it. I always asked him what he was running from. I think in those early days, it was ….me.

The worst feeling in the world is the feeling of failure. The things that God created you to do, find a mate, love fully have babies….these were all things that I was obviously failing at. What good was I? Chris followed his passion of running and I reluctantly supported him. I didn't marry a runner, yet he didn't marry a shell of a human either. So here we were…a budding ultra-marathoner and his wife.

Moving to Florida was our sense of rebirth. I moved here many months before Chris and each time he spoke to me on the phone, he was so excited about how happy I sounded. At this point, I had come to some serious crossroads in my life, forced my way to live through the horror and kept the door of possibility cracked. He kept running and doing amazing things. I recall him running with Dean K. during his 50 in 50 and telling me about people that run this crazy race, 135 miles in the desert! I said, "promise me you will never do that", he said….."Don't worry, it's not even on my radar, I'll never be that good".

Fear of failure. Chris had it too. It was unfortunately deeply ingrained in both of our innocent child brains and once that nasty seed had been planted, it was very hard to get rid of. We were, however, connecting ….through our fear of failure. Again Chris kept running and got better and better. I remember showing up to the finish of his first 100k at his "projected" finish time to see him standing there drinking a beer. I was devastated that I didn't see him finish. He had been done for almost an hour. It was at that moment that I vowed to never let him cross a finish line without me there. If he was running from something, it was going to be me who caught him when he finished.

Enter Leadville, Ironhorse, Keys, Pinhoti, Western States, etc etc etc. I am sure that we were the laughing stock of more seasoned ultrarunners. I was his only crew and he did most of these races without a pacer. We had bonded and this was OUR thing. We learned, struggled, laughed and loved…BIG.

I remember a few years ago, when his training was getting in the way of me having a chance to do ANYTHING for myself, he looked at me and said, " I just realized that I am a 40 year old doctor with a great life and a great family, but I don't have any friends. The only real friends I have are the ones I have only met a few times on a race course. But I could call any one of those guys and they would be there for me in a heartbeat." This hobby was now our family.

Chris got accepted to Badwater. He crossed all the T's and dotted all the I's….crewed Badwater for our brother Tony P (whom I now love as much as Chris ….well , almost as much) , excelled in racing 100 milers, contributed significantly to his charity CAF and trained his skinny ass off. I started feeling like Badwater was his mistress. The training kept him busy and away from our family, lots of money was spent and countless sacrifices were made. He connected with people on visceral levels. To name a few (Eric, Terry, Tony, Dan, Susan, Mark, Chip, and Charlie of course) This was his life's work. Nothing to prove, of course, but everything to prove at the same time. We assembled our team. Dan Rose told Chris that he would crew him if he was ever accepted, talk about being true to a verbal agreement. Rose vowed to attend Badwater only once, and that was for Chris. He is an amazing runner, his resume speaks for itself; I would be there, of course, as moral support and crew chief, Susan Smith, our friend, supporter and marathoner never hesitated with her YES, Dan Hartley a committed ultrarunner couldn't wait for the experience to fuel his own Badwater dreams, Mark Ryan a totally loyal and stand-up guy as well as a great runner signed, on right away , and Chris's brother Rick would make the journey to see his baby brother in all of his suffering glory. Later, Rick reluctantly had to back out and Chris went through a grieving period, mourning the fact that his brother wouldn't be there, but vowing to do his best for Rick, so he would be proud.

The wheels were in motion. Training continued and I felt like the "mistress" was getting my man. Bad water was all we talked about, planned for and studied. Lots of people say that you have to have a crew of only exceptional athletes, seasoned ultra-runners and nothing short of that will do. The human condition is much more complex than eat, drink, run repeat. Of course, knowledge of the course, environment and race nutrition is of paramount importance, (thank God for our expert crew members) but what about the emotional side of knowing just what your runner needs, the knowing when you look into their eyes, the understanding of the suffering….that is when the gentle touch of someone who loves you is even better that that Starbucks espresso shot. That is why I was there. Im neither ultra runner, nor will I ever be, but I know Chris, and I vowed to get him to that finish line.

I hate to fly. It's no secret. I have to be medicated to deal with any flight over 1.5 hrs. I did just that on our way to Las Vegas. I spent the first 4 hrs. drooling on my horseshoe pillow. When I awoke, I was in Hell. The plane fell from the sky. It was like being on a rollercoaster and going downhill very fast with the hope that the bottom was soon to come, except this fall never seemed to end. The electricity went off, everyone was screaming, when I pried my one eye open, I saw someone come out of their seat and hit the ceiling of the plane. The use of vomit bags was encouraged and I was sure it was my time to go. This was my worst nightmare come true. Maybe I created my own reality. Chris's friend Meredith and her husband and baby were behind us. I heard their screams and time stood still. All of a sudden, it was very clear how delicate our balance between calm and chaos is.

I talked about this for at least 24 hrs. I think that it was justified considering the fact that we almost died getting to the start line of the world's toughest foot race. Enter Death Valley……The landscape was like no other. Barren, weathered, desolate….why, then, was it so damn powerful? Getting to Furnace Creek Resort was so refreshing. I have lots of control issues; I normally freak out if I'm not near a hospital or don't have a cell signal. I had neither of those, yet felt a strong sense of calm and purpose….all my fears were left on Soutwest Flight 104. As we trekked to the Basin the next day, I started to get nervous when I realized I left our sat phone in the room and my cell wouldn't work. It was becoming crystal clear, control was not mine to have….slowly I began to rid myself of my need of it and find that life was a little easier when I gave some of it up.

The race started with lots of butterflies. Chris earned his spot in the 10 am start group, flanked by some of the world's elite athletes. He had arrived. He was nervous and I could feel it. I stayed calm. I have one great quality, putting on a great game face….maybe that's not such a great quality after all, but hindsight is 20/20. He starting running and I shed the first of many tears. Our crew was cohesive, save a few bumps here and there, Chris was our only concern. I showed my ugly side only a few times, but I think it was warranted and kept us on track. Time passed very quickly. Before I knew it the moon was out in all of its majesty and Chris was still running. Dan Rose asked if I was up to logging a few miles….of course. Knee surgery aside, I fell in step behind my husband, talking like we were at our kitchen table. All of a sudden a downhill presented itself….I heard myself say "Lets RUN"….like a school kid suggesting something that was forbidden. Chris asked if I was sure…and I said let's go! First run in almost a year. Under a shooting star with the love of my life......Little did I know that the crew was debating coming back to pick me up after seeing the downhill on their 2 mile leap frog. When Dan R. told me later that he exclaimed to the team, "Erin would never hold Chris back and would tell him to run ahead before she made him walk a downhill" I knew that our team had become one unit. We KNEW each other.

The night was full of relentless uphill and freeing downhill. The cars along the road with their flashing hazards and the runners and pacers with their light vests and headlights looked like an ultra Christmas tree. Beautiful….As morning approached, I was secretly hoping for the sun to hurry the heck up and wake up so that I was warm again (I hate cold and was bundled up in pants, hat, jacket and hand warmers….ya, ya, I know….) Chris saw his chance on making a sub 24 hr hundred mile time. And that he did, 22 hrs and some change. Then the suffering began. Tensions began to rise a bit, exhaustion set in and I was trying to carry out my runners wishes without being a total "you know what". Delirium took hold of me and I made some ridiculous videos at this point, but I had no idea of what was in store.

The next 12 miles tested everything inside of Chris and surprisingly inside of me. I never imagined that Chris's Badwater would have any effect on me apart from the usual crewing stuff. I knew that this was his moment and my only role was to get him across the finish in one piece. I never bargained for the the many moments of stillness that allowed me to finally slow down enough to fully appreciate this life. When I began to walk up the mountain with Chris, I was nervous…..see Erin's mountain road neurosis…or ask Dan Hartley…I don't like tiny roads that have no guard rails. Then multiply that by the fact that my husband was delirious and out of his mind, teetering on the edge of these blasted roads as we tried to find a safe place to stop. I actually opted to walk up the hill at one point rather than ride in the van….neurotic, I know. I planned to go up the last 8 miles with Chris. I was physically capable but wasn't prepared for the emotion. When I settled in behind Chris for his death march, he had already left all that he had left in his tank back in Lone Pine, all was seemingly OK. Chris then began to talk a little crazy, act a little unsteady and tell me how delirious he was. As a nurse, I knew that if he was expressing it, he was lucid right? Then he began to say over and over, "This is so hard, this is so hard." Each tenth of a mile was sheer torture and he knew I was worried. The funny thing here is that after he expressed how delirious he was he quickly followed that by ,"I'm not delirious enough for medical so don't get any ideas or go calling for help"….exit Erin, enter Dan Rose. I had to step back and let someone who had felt those same feelings and experienced that same pain is with Chris. All I wanted to do was be his wife and tell him to stop that he had nothing to prove and that he had already done amazing. I just wanted us to be at the hotel and have this stupid race behind us. But, I also know that quitting would only relieve the pain temporarily but the pain of not finishing what he started would haunt him forever. I quietly took his hand, kissed it and placed in his open palm the RIP rock from Charlies "going away" party. He shook his head, shed a tear and walked a little faster.

As we approached our crew, about 100 yards out from the finish, Chris said "I hope that they didn't come like half a mile down to meet us….this needs to be over now." He asked Dan Rose if he would get to the finish in less than 33 hrs. and Dan smiled and said " you've got like 4 minutes dude!" Chris looked at me and said that he wanted his finish picture with his whole crew with linked hands crossing together. I asked if he was sure he didn't want to cross himself and he point blank said that without us, there would be no Badwater finish for him. So we did just that….arms raised in triumph, leaving our former selves in the desert, ready to start anew with fresh eyes and an awakened heart.

Badwater is the toughest footrace on the planet. My husband did it with a demanding job, a wife and two kids, in his 40s with nothing to prove. If you ask me…..what he did was nothing short of amazing. He gave our crew and myself the experience of a lifetime, the opportunity to find what makes us who we are and what needs a little tweaking. He trusted us with his life, never questioning the nutrition strategy or the pacing schedule. He turned it his race over to us.

A lot of baggage was left out in Death Valley. Sometimes if you don't "get it" on your own, God forces you to be still, giving you the chance to figure it out. It is these moments of silence and quiet reflection that define our lives. I can only imagine the clarity Chris gained while running Badwater. Suffering in silence exploring the emotional, physical, what is needed and what is not, what matters and what is a waste of energy. My husband got to cross off a big one on his life list. How fortunate am I that I was a part of it. Don't wait for disease, tragedy or unrest until you make time for stillness….do less with greater intention. The time is now.

Thank you to our crew. Dan Rose, Dan Hartley, Susan Smith, Mark Ryan and Ray….you sacrificed part of yourself to be with Chris….I can never express how much that means to both of us. It wouldn't have been the same experience without each of you. We can never repay you properly for your selflessness, but in exchange, I hope that in the stillness of the desert, you got to find a moment of peace within yourselves, and in that moment you found yourself renewed and ready to "be the change". Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.