One time in the middle of the last century John F.
Kennedy thought Americans were turning into a bunch of soft in the
middle, effete wussies. His solution? A fifty mile hike to be
finished in less then 20 hours. The original 50/20 is still held
somewhere every year but we held a knock off in Santaquin for a
couple of years there in the late eighties and the early nineties.
When I was hearing about it I thought that fifty miles didn't sound
like that far, t is very far but I was young and like they say, the
young are idiots. The first time I walked it I was 12 years old and
full of unreasonable optimism. My mom gave me some sound advice about
wearing some nylons under my regular socks to prevent blisters. She
also gave me some rather unsound advice about carrying a fricking ton
of water food and first aid supplies. There were minders all along
the way and rest stops every five miles or so making my backpack full
of sundries a massive waste of energy and a brutal downward strain on
my shoulders so I ditched it about five miles in. I had started out
with a group of family and friends and by the first rest stop about
five miles in we were all feeling just fine. We were laughing and
joking and even frolicking if that could be done. By the tenth mile
tempers were decidedly less chipper. After the fifteenth mile the sun
was starting to go down and about half of the boys and all of the
girls called it a night and got rescued by a minder van. The
survivors and I trudged the next six miles in the dark down a canyon
and the rest of my intreped band called it a night at the 21st
mile. Lightweights. I sandwiched and souped up and was ready for the
really hard part – the next 29 miles. Alone. In the dark. On the
highway. Spooky. I was determined and I went of softly into that dark
night. At the next stop 6 more miles down the road I was really
planning on quitting but I met up with a man and his daughter who
were both walking at a really brisk pace and even though I was sore
and tired their company was more than worth the extra protection from
the baddies that seemed to lurk behind every shadowed tree and around
every farm building. About four in the morning at the forty mile stop
I couldn't summon the energy to keep up with them and they wished me
luck and blasted out of there still power walking after 40 hard
miles. God's speed you walking fools, god's speed. There was the
slightest breeze and the slightest light coming around the hill I had
to round to finish my march and shove it in JFK's face. I do realize
he is dead but metaphorically, you know? With six miles left to go I
was so tired and sore and emotional that I was doing a zombie shamble
and crying as the sun came up. I have never wanted to quit and not
quit something so badly in my entire life. At the lowest point in my
journey a guardian angel in the form of a middle aged scout master
came to my rescue. He gave me a graham cracker and told me it was not
that far and that if I walked as hard as I could I would be done in
two hours. Two hours? Oh, hell no. I decided to quit and end it right
then and there but he took me under his arm and told me it would be
okay and that no one as young as I had ever finished the 50/20 and he
knew I would be so disappointed if I made it 46 miles and quit. He
was right I knew but I was so exhausted and in so much pain I was
thinking a little shame might be a small price to pay. Before I knew
it I had limped and cried my way through another mile and there were
only three to go. Knowing that I got a second, or perhaps third wind
and pressed on with renewed vigor. The road was very flat and I could
see the church that was the finish line from a mile and a half away
which gave me a tangible goal and false hope as I closed the final
mile. When I stumbled into the church lawn my mom was there and I
hugged her and cried and got in the car with little fanfare. When I
got home I got in a hot bath and fell asleep . She came and woke me
up and I dried off and got on the toilet and fell asleep. I woke up a
while later with completely numb legs and only enough energy to walk
to my bed and there I slept for 20 hours strait. I couldn't walk well
for about a week and couldn't be prouder to tell everyone why I was
limping. Sadly, not many people were all that impressed and it turned
out that even though no one younger than twelve had ever finished
there had been younger twelve-year-old's who had. I still got a medal
and a savings bond that would be worth 50 bucks in 10 years. I cashed
it in for the face value the next day. Take that Kennedy.
