November 17th, 2007, 4:15 AM in the Boonsboro High School gym. People were telling me that it was Saturday but I knew that it was still the middle of Friday night. Whatever time it really was, the gym was full of a couple hundred crazy people ready to start running 50 miles in the pitch dark. When Katharine Hunter, Jerry Lopez, and I arrived we easily found the rest of the Reston Runners early crew since Team Mom Helen Hipps and her erstwhile aide Ed Cacciapaglia (who had accompanied Helen even though he wasn't starting until seven and foolishly thought that he'd be able to take a nap on the gym floor) had already hung the Reston Runners banner. The early-bird Reston Runners were Jerry and Katharine, Marce' Willard, Ford Jones, Tammy Massie, Joe Martin, Peter Westcott and John Finney. Tammy had her husband and sister as crew. Joe had his friend Scott. This left me to crew for Jerry, Katharine, Marce', Ford, Peter and John. The next 15 minutes was a flurry of greetings and introductions while sorting through a plethora of run and post-run bags and even one large supply box (the ever-organized Peter had brought a box filled with bottles of Gatorade and Vitamin Water, cans of Ensure, Slim Fast, and tomato soup, and various and sundry fruits, energy bars and whatnot).  John's bags weren't there yet but he pointed to a guy in a plaid shirt, whom he identified as Scott, and said that Scott would bring me the bags after the start.

      Before I knew it the runners were heading out the door for the starting line. I hadn't had a change to speak to Scott about getting John's bags but it was too late now since he apparently had gone with the runners. That left only Ed and me staring at a mountain of bags (and one heavy box). Ed generously offered to help me take them to my car.  Since I'm never one to do something the easy way when there is a more difficult alternative, I elected to have us haul all the stuff to the far parking lot rather than taking the more sensible course of bringing my car up to the door.  After much huffing, puffing and grunting (all on my part, Ed of course expended zero energy in accomplishing this task. His body sees anything less than a 20 mile trail run as unworthy of calorie consumption), we got the car loaded and headed back to the gym. Ed went in to lie down on the gym floor while I settled in on a folding chair just inside the door hoping that Scott would soon arrive with John's bags.

      After 20 minutes of performing the vital task of directing early arriving 7 AM'ers to the restrooms (I must have looked official sitting there, a precursor of things to come?), Scott came in with two large bags labeled for John Finney.  I then spent several minutes giving Scott the benefit of my vast (one-year) experience as a JFK crew person. Promising to meet up at Gathland/Gapland/Crampton Gap (I wish people could settle on one name for some of these places), we headed out to JFK50 crew glory
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      While waiting for the runners to appear at Gathland, I was able to lighten my crew load a bit by passing Marce' over to Tammy's family and letting Scott take John in addition to Joe. Arthur Garrison and Carolina Quiroga showed up here and we decided to split up Ford, Peter, Katharine and Jerry according to how they separated along the way. All the runners came through in fine shape here except for Jerry who looked pretty rough. He had spent much of Friday evening throwing up and didn't appear to be feeling any better this morning. But he was determined to keep going. Many of you don't know Jerry but he is pretty amazing. A former neighbor of Katharine's, he runs marathons all over the world, sometimes as many as three a month but never less than one. He is definitely not a speedster but he nearly always finishes and has the amazing ability of remembering every detail of his runs and then sending out incredibly detailed and fascinating narratives of his adventures complete with pictures. As a veteran of over 60 marathons on all seven continents (yes, even Antarctica!)  and the last two JFK's he wasn't about to let a little vomiting stop his quest for three 50's in a row.

      Next stop Weverton Cliffs and the end of the AT for the runners. Much bigger crowd as the 7 AM crews started arriving.  While waiting here I was privileged to see the elite runners flash by, gliding over the ground with no apparent effort and no indication that they have just completed nearly 16 miles of rock hopping and tree dodging.  Again, all of our 5 AM charges came off the trail in fine shape with the exception of Jerry who despite his continued sickness was still determined to soldier on. At Weverton I was happy to meet up with Pat Kay who had just found out that she wasn't needed for the timing job she had signed up for. I quickly recruited her to help out with crewing and she readily agreed even though she had no idea what she was getting into and had originally planned on heading back to Reston by three.

      By Antietam the leaders started to establish themselves with Marce', Katharine, and Tammy pulling well ahead of the guys. Next came Ford and Joe with Peter, John and Jerry well behind.  Here is where the specter of the dreaded cut-off time started to rear its ugly head. The 5 AM starters had to be through the 27.1 mile checkpoint by 1:00 PM.  By about 12:45 I still hadn't seen Peter, John or Jerry and was starting to worry. Finally Peter came by and then John made it with only a few minutes to spare. He was so close that we had him go through the checkpoint first before seeing what he needed.  I quickly hauled his bag past the aid station and while Pat and Scott saw to him I went back down the trail looking for Jerry. He finally arrived several minutes past the cut-off time and was forced to retire. I had the feeling that he was relieved to have the excuse of having to stop officially. Although he says he was going to quit anyway I am pretty sure that if he had made the cut-off he would have kept going. By now John had pressed on and we were faced with the problem of getting Jerry back to his hotel.  Since Pat needed to head home soon anyway I asked her if she would mind giving Jerry a ride.  She agreed right away and they took off.  But before they left Pat reminded me not to forget "that other guy's bag". She was referring to Peter's bag but I thought she meant John's.  This resulted in a situation that caused me great distress.

      I first went back to our original crew spot and picked up Peter's bag, which had the good manners to have stayed put right where I left it. I then went to the point after the aid station where Pat had helped John (By this time after dealing with Jerry I had forgotten that Scott had been there too). John's bag was NOT there. I walked back and forth several times looking at every bag I saw and none of them were John's.  I couldn't imagine that someone had stolen it. To my increasingly fatigued brain (you pampered runners think running 50 miles is exhausting. Well just try navigating a confusing maze of back roads,  hauling a bunch of heavy bags filled with clothes for every type of weather from hurricanes to blizzards and enough food to feed a High School track team,  only to be forced to stand and wait for hour after hour and see how clearly you're thinking after nine hours) that seemed to leave only two possibilities. Either someone had picked it up by mistake and hauled it all the way to their car without noticing it or I just wasn't seeing it sitting there along the trail. So I checked again, and again, and once more just to make sure. Nope, the bag was not there. To say I was upset would be an understatement. I was about to go down in history as the first JFK 50 crew member to lose their runner's bag. Not only would poor John be missing potentially vital support items but even though I was sure that most of my fellow crew people would be supportive I could just imagine the glee with which whoever was writing the Stats and Chats JFK report would pounce on this juicy tidbit. With a heavy heart I trudged back to my car and somehow found my way to Mondell/Taylor's Landing/38 Special (again with the multiple names!).  On the way I tried to drown my sorrows by compulsively stuffing huge handfuls of Kettle Cooked Sea Salt and Cracked Pepper Potato Chips into my mouth (they sell them at Whole Foods so they must be healthy). I got to bottom of the bag but it didn't help.

      Somehow I got there and found a parking spot not too far away. My first stop was at the aid station to ask if anyone had turned in a bag. They looked at me like I was crazy but they did check. No luck. So I figured I had to face the music and went down the trail a bit to a sea of blue Reston Runner crew pinnies (yeah, that's what those high fashion items are called. Look it up, or better yet, just ask Anna).  I confessed my total failure as crew person and rather than the heartfelt support and sympathy I expected from my fellow crew folks I got nothing but unbridled laughter. My humiliation was nearly complete, only needing a scathing Stats and Chats to finish me off. But just then I noticed Scott just down the way. He looked a little confused by my story and casually mentioned that he had John's bag with him! I had totally forgotten that he was there with Pat when I went to find Jerry at Antietam.  John would still have his support stuff and oh by the way, I wouldn't become a JFK "Fun Fact" in the coming years. Sure, I'd take some ribbing but I wasn't going to be branded forever as that guy who couldn't even keep track of a run bag.

      Now it was back to the job. Marce', Katharine, and Tammy had flown past long before I got there. Soon Ford came down the trail followed by Joe. Both of them were bearing up well.  Since Scott had Joe's car he had to stay with him and due to the time split wouldn't be able to keep covering John. Arthur and Carolina had to be back in Reston before 8 so they took Katharine and Ford and I agreed to take Peter and John.  Soon everyone else took off and I settled in to wait for Peter and John. Then Peter showed up with plenty of time to chug a can of Ensure followed immediately by a can of cold tomato soup, all washed down with a little Gatorade.  He set off down the trail while I continued to wait for John.

        According to the cut-off times that I had printed from the official JFK-50 web site the cut-off for 5 AM starters at Taylor's Landing (Mondell,  38 Special, whatever) was 4:00 PM (http://www.jfk50mile.org:80/2007/JFK%2050%20Mile%20Course%20Information.htm). However the sign at the aid station said 3:45.  I asked about this discrepancy and the woman checking off the runners as they came by said that I'd have to ask a race official and there wasn't one of those around at  the moment.  I then asked how strict they were about enforcing the cut-off times and she again referred me to the absent race official, who apparently was the only one who had the authority to make someone leave the course.  Armed with this knowledge I went back to waiting.

      I saw 3:45 come and go with no John, 3:50, 3:55, nothing. Keeping an eye on the aid station I also didn't see anyone who looked like an official of any sort. Finally here came, John calling out "Jaaarrreeettt!" from 50 yards away.   I ran up to him and told him that according to the posted sign he had missed the cut-off but as far as I knew there was no one at the aid station who had the authority to make him quit so if he wanted to keep going he probably could. I also said that since no matter which cut-off time was correct he was very close, so he'd better think very carefully about whether he should continue. He didn't even hesitate but just said emphatically "I want to keep going!". So I said "O.K. but we'd better get to the other side of the checkpoint." He shuffled on while I picked up his bag. When I looked up I saw that some young kid was talking to him and seemed to be telling John that he'd have to quit since he was overtime.  This skinny twenty-something didn't look like any sort of official to me and John must have thought the same because he replied quite loudly, "No, No. I am going to keep going! Jarrett said it was O.K.!" John's absolute insistence that no one was going to make him quit must have convinced this guy and he let John go (despite what other versions of this you may have heard I had nothing to do with it, other than John mentioning my name. There was absolutely no impersonating going on, official or otherwise. (Although that's not such a bad idea. Maybe next year?). It was simply due to John's fierce determination to finish the race). I caught up to John and made sure he knew that he now had less than 2 hours to cover the next 8 miles to Downsville. He said that he was sure he could do it and set off once more.

      Back in the car once more I navigated my way to Downsville. It was getting colder and soon the sun set. I stood under the street lamp at the corner before the aid station and peered into the darkness as runner after runner came by. At about 5:45 Peter came out of the gloom and seemed to have just enough gas left to go the last 4 miles. I saw him off and then continued waiting for John.  One by one the other crew found their runners and hurried off to the finish.  Soon I was the only crew person in sight and still no John. By 5:58 I was about to give up hope when I saw a headlamp at about the right height and heard another cry of "Jaaarrreeettt!".  There he was with seconds to spare!  I hurried him past the checkpoint and quickly asked what he needed. He said he needed gloves. We searched through the jumbled pile in his large bag and couldn't find any gloves. Precious seconds were being wasted so I finally pulled of my own gloves, gave them to him and told him that he had only one more hour to do the last 4 miles. He said "I can do it!" and disappeared into the night.

      When I arrived at the finish I found that all the Reston Runner finishers were already in with the exception of Peter and John. The five 5 AMer's who were in so far were all very pleased with their performance, especially Katharine who had cut almost an hour off her time from last year and also set what I'm sure must be an all time JFK 50 record of petting 16 dogs during the course of the run. I didn't want to miss Peter and John coming across the line so I headed back outside and somehow managed to miss Peter being brought in by medical personnel. It turns out he did finish and was O.K., just a little shaky after running 50 miles (imagine that).   He had earned his medal with nearly fifteen minutes to spare.  Another amazing feat in a day of amazing feats.

      By 6:50 I was really getting nervous. I couldn't bear to think of John putting in such a tremendous effort and then not getting a finisher's medal. I couldn't just stand there so I started back along the road hoping against hope that I'd see that headlamp.  And then miraculously there it was and I once again heard that now familiar cry of  "Jaaarrreeettt!" this time with the enthusiasm and emotion of the sole survivor of a shipwreck sighting a sail on the horizon after 6 days of keeping afloat by hanging on to a plank.  I caught up to him and turned and ran along with him up to the finish. Sixty-eight year old John Finney, Jr.of Arlington VA crossed the 2007 JFK 50 finish line at 6:55:54 PM with tears in his eyes and both arms raised triumphantly in the air.