Beyond the Blog: The Carolinas CAN Ruck For Autism

Sometimes the universe smiles upon you, and things all fall into place when you are most hoping they will.   An equal number of times, the universe will dump hot coffee in your lap right before you back into your mailbox.   But on this day, everything came together is so many ways...the people we had supporting us, our guest runners, the venue of Wrightsville Beach, my physical state, and the weather itself...all swirled together in happy chaos throughout the day, making this **the best rucking day ever** Starting with our support team,  Michael was on his second full day and had found his groove.   We had a good dinner the night before and our tribe of three became a tribe of six, with Becky and Stephanie arriving that night, as well as Matt’s dad, Mike.   So we were a sizable bunch, all fired up for the Saturday event at the beach.    We were all excited about our guest runners for that day, Charlie Engle and “The Ultra-Running Guys”, Jeremy and Jeff...

Starting the day out early...who knows what lay ahead? I'd ask myself this every morning. Reflecting back on this day, I completely underestimated the significance of actually making it to the coast.  I was so focused on the mile-by-mile, day-by-day routine...and we had been making some great progress in the last few days, actually finishing the day early.  So getting to Surf City was seemingly just a point on the map, marking the beginning of my trek down the coast to Surfside Beach just five days away.   But I’ll get to that explosion of emotions in a few paragraphs.   First, about the day….     Michael steps in and takes charge!   This was the first full day of Michael providing support, and he did an awesome job of preparing some goodie bags for me full of my favorite stuff...vanilla oreos, peanut butter crackers, and more.  These were the staples of the Ruck, along with coke, potato chips, and tuna subs..which explains why I gained eight pou...

This last day with Monty was relaxed and completely enjoyable, despite some heavier beach traffic and higher temps as we drew ever closer to the coast. Monty on his game! Starting the day just a little down the road from where we left off at Moore’s Creek, and still on 210 heading west, I rucked through Long Creek.  Here, the land transitioned from coastal plain farmland to more residential, although not yet insanely crowded as it is on the coast.  Many large estates, protected behind high brick walls and iron gates, had me wondering who they were trying to keep out.   It was pretty country but ruined by hostile signs: Private Property! No Trespassing! Keep Out!  If you were really trying to get on the property, would you suddenly look at the sign and turn around?  Silly rich people.  I’m going to save the best "sign" for tomorrow, however, near the place where Waldorf and Statler tried to run me over in their golf cart.   We tried a few dirt roads but...

It was late February in 1776 when the Scottish Highlanders slowly advanced in the lifting fog of Eastern North Carolina.  At 1,600 strong, they were confident in their abilities and fiercely loyal to the crown.  Who could possibly face the terror and human destruction wrought by their broadswords? What had these rebels done to indicate that there would be any possible resistance to the armies of King George?  Their leader, British Colonel Donald McLeod, had steadfastly marched them to the coast, where they would rendezvous with an even larger contingent of redcoat regulars.   They only had to wade through the swamp, cross the bridge at Moore’s Creek, and destroy the patriots.   They drew broadswords and advanced, first slowly, but then accelerating into the battle cry…”King George and Broadswords!”  Faster they went, until their world exploded in flying lead and shot.  They faced over a thousand men pointing musket and cannon directly at them from brea...

The morning ritual of trying to keep my toenails from falling off Even now, two months after this day, the powerful experience of this day, and the raw emotions it unleashed, are as vivid as the moment it happened.    I gave up.  Just for a short time, but I gave up, and surrendered to the negativity and self-doubt that I had dammed up for the last three weeks.   In my personal post of April 13, which I did not publish, I wrote this: “ I'm pretty good at showing confidence on the outside when I am in turmoil on the inside, so this is my admission that I am freaking out .  I feel like I've done all the big training I could possibly have done, but is it enough ? How do I know this can even be done?  How will people react if I fail?” These are terrible thoughts to have, of course, and as the Ruck kicked into high gear, I shoved the bad stuff down and moved forward.  But physical and mental exhaustion broke down these barriers, and I suppose starting ...