Pilot Butte 24 Recap. All the Feels.

by Chase Parnell — October 4, 2019 — Cover Photo by Steve Heinrichs

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It’s Wednesday and I’m just now emerging from the haze of 24 hours on the butte. My legs are miraculously not as bad as expected and my heart is super full by what transpired. I’ll try not to turn this into a novel, but here’s the play-by-play from this life-altering event. 

[Note: If you haven’t already read my earlier post about why I decided to quit drinking for a year, quit my law job, and mark the transition by running for 24 hours, do that first then come back and read this re-cap].

I woke up Monday morning a little on the haggard side. I sit up in bed and after a couple painful swallows from a lingering cold, I look outside. There’s snow on the ground. Classic. Nothing like a little September snow in central Oregon. Should be great for the throat. I walk to the kitchen to boil some water for the French press. I feel calf tightness and a sore left patella when I flex my quad. Okay, it didn’t heal overnight. I’ll have to deal. 

Nikki and I scramble to get the food and gear ready, throw the kids in the car, and make it to Pilot Butte with just a few minutes to spare before my 8am start. It’s Monday and I’m relishing the fact that I’m not at work. Or am I? Not at the firm at least. 

I’m sent off by my parents, my brother Eric Parnell, and buddy Colin Cass. My parents were each ringing a cow bell, which of course made me a little sheepish. I’ve never been much of a finish line fist-pumper or need much attention for these things, but I’m learning to accept a kind gesture when it comes my way. I pull out my phone, open the Strava app, hit the start button, and head up on the trail. 24 hours to go. 

My first couple hours would turn out to be the quietest of the entire 24. I hop into a rhythm and dial in my run/hike routine. I’d run for the first 100 meters or so, hike through a steeper bit, then run the final stretch to the platform at the top of the hill. At the center of the platform is a capstone disc that directs you to all the peaks in the distance. Align your eyes with one line, there’s Mt. Hood, with another, Broken Top. I slapped that sucker on each and every lap. 

About 10 loops in, Rob Hendrickson, a running acquaintance from years ago showed up out of nowhere. He says Mondays are his busiest days but that he couldn’t pass up this opportunity to come support me. What?! I barely know this guy. We’ve only spoken maybe a half dozen times over the years. I couldn’t believe he was carving out some time from his day to spend with me. He goes on to tell me he can relate with a lot of what I was going through and that I actually inspired him to make some changes himself. Again, blown away. After some quality trail time, we agree to start meeting regularly to run and part with a fist bump. Pilot Butte 24. Already worth it. 

At noon, I’m topping out on lap 12 when I see two co-workers from the law firm I just left the Friday before. Hugs and high-fives ensue. They say they’re happy for me and just wanted to come cheer me on. No bad blood apparently from leaving the firm. I was pretty jazzed to see them and to know they were in my corner. 

Just then, Colin re-materializes, Nikki is there and ready to run, and a couple of my other besties show up, Nate Gerhardt and Jordan Wolfe. We catch up on our latest respective adventures, bust some balls, and cruise the red cinder track up and down, up and down. I’m still feeling pretty solid; no real pain or undue fatigue. The sore throat is there but fine and the knee is easily manageable. I made the mistake, however, of starting to think the whole 24 hours would continue in a similar fashion. Rookie mistake.

Around 1pm, my big bro Eric and Nikki’s parents, Katie and Jeff, or as my kids call them, Oma and Papa Jesh, show up. The in-laws were there on and off throughout, snapping pics and taking care of the kids. We couldn’t have done this without them! 

Eric is rocking a full body red sweatsuit. I ask him if he just got done dropping a record with Kanye at the studio. He said it was his running gear. Let’s go! Eric recently caught the running bug himself so it was cool that he could join me on this adventure. As typically happens, conversation with him gets deep pretty quick. He says he’s inspired by what I’m doing — this whole taking a leap thing and marking it with a big public effort. In a round about way it’s an accountability thing. He says I’ve put it out to the world and now I’m bound to it. No pressure. I’m moved when he opens up and shares some of his own battles with me. I’ve leaned on him a lot over the years and this felt a little like I was finally giving back in a way. Really special moments out there on the trail.

From 5pm-7pm, the final hours of daylight, a whole slew of people showed up. Three ex co-workers, Crystal, Dani, and Mondae showed up to cheer me on. Mondae said she’d made a similar change recently and that she was proud of me and excited about our journey. Dani gave me a quote that put some wind in my sails: “Don’t stop when you’re tired, stop when you’re done.” She’s a no B.S. kind of gal and I’d need that quote when things got tough later in the night. Crystal too was chock-full of encouragement which left me feeling pumped to soldier on.

It was around this time that Janessa Taylor arrived. Some of you ultra folk out there might know the name; she’s an absolute badass runner and a total sweetheart. It meant a lot that a runner of her calibre came out to support. She’s only the 2019 Waldo 100k champ … NDB. Fun to share some laps and hear some stories. 

Nikki’s childhood neighbor and good friend to this day, Katie Wicks, her mom Tenley, and Tenley’s partner Greg hiked up and met me for a lap. They’re family; a super-trio of genuine love and support. Tenley made the Treeline Journal logo and has supported Nikki and I with unceasing grace and enthusiasm from the very beginning. Not sure what we’ve done to deserve such loyalty and kindness. We thank you. 

My parents took the baton around that time and did a lap with me in the final minutes of daylight. I don’t thank them enough for all the things they do for me and have done for me. I guess my feeling is that they’re my parents and they should know how appreciative I am despite not needing to tell them over and over again. But in case I’m wrong, thank you Mom and Dad for being there! 

Once my parents leave, I don the headlamp and check my watch — it’s 8 o’clock. Ouch. I’m only half way. 

Now alone, I check back in with my body. My throat was definitely worse, each swallow was a pain, oddly more noticeable now without the human distractions. Nikki made me a Spotify playlist and my plan had been to save the music for the long lonely night hours. It appeared those had finally arrived. I begin to rummage through my pack for my headphones when I see some headlights pull into the parking lot. Could it be one of my people?

It was. Sam Schwartz, another running acquaintance coming through in the clutch. Sam’s a guy I see at the Tuesday night workout group organized by Max King, but we’ve never exchanged more than a few words here and there. We head up the butte. I learn he’s a GIS tech who has a real thing for maps. He’s the type you wouldn’t mind getting lost in the woods with. Now that the fatigue was building, I found myself just letting him talk. It was a huge comfort to just listen to his stories — everything from his experience running the Tahoe 50 to how small municipalities in Eastern Oregon utilize his engineering firm’s mapping services. 

After 3 or 4 laps with Sam, he said he’d better go, the work day was only 10 hours off. I thanked him for coming and once again I was alone. I walked to my car and re-supplied on water and food. My stomach was surprisingly strong throughout. The winning combination was  Huma gel, coke, orange slices, and the occasional chicken noodle soup. Nikki pre-made the soup and stored it in Hydroflasks to keep warm. After the re-supply, I made my way back to the trailhead to begin the solo run. 

Nope, not to be. The one and only Mr. Dan Friesen drove up just as I hit the trail. He’d already been there during the 5-7pm rush but he was back and ready to charge. What a stud. It was 10pm and as a high school teacher, I knew how early he’d have to wake up the next morning. We take off and enjoy a shared experience. Gracefully, he stays with me until 1:00am! 

Somewhere in the vortex of night, I remember my brother Eric came back for some laps. Erin, one of Nikki’s co-workers from the local running shoe store Footzone, showed up to run a lap adorned with jeans and enthusiasm that lit up the night. Our good friends, the Adams, also greeted us with a celebratory arm tunnel and a bag a cookies. I couldn’t tell you in what order they came or at what time, but they showed up and I can see their faces in my disjointed foggy memory. 

At 1am, with everyone gone, this time I do put my music in and head up the hill for what I anticipate to be a long stretch of pain. I still have 7 hours to go. I’ve been at this for 17 hours. There’s no real way to feel good after that much time on the feet. The term that came to mind was that my legs and feet felt, crunchy. 

On this solo lap, I did have the good fortune of spotting what I believe to have been an owl. It was just a little ball of fluff about the size of a softball that at first I thought was a rattlesnake curled up tightly, but as I approached, it jumped up into the air and spiraled around in beautiful sweeping arcs, up and over and around the juniper trees, rabbitbrush, and sage. I would see that owl many more times that night but only between about 1am-4am. Even on Pilot Butte, there are many mysteries to be found.

After just one solo lap, I return to the base and once again see headlights. Trevor Hostetler, Janessa Taylor’s partner in crime, was on the scene. As a couple, they own Alpine Running, and put on some of the best races in the Pacific Northwest. He says he woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so why not come join?! He too had to work later that morning, but he still came out. He definitely helped me forget about the time remaining, the throat, the knee, and any and all other ailments that would’ve emerged had I been left to my own devices. My nose was bleeding from the dry air for most the time Trevor was there but in addition to being a race director, Trevor is also a registered nurse. Not a bad asset should I pass out from blood loss. We share a solid block of time and I couldn’t have been more grateful for his company. 

Speaking of solid guys, at 3:30am, Jason Adams shows up. I’m really fading at this point and Adams is another guy who can tell a story or two. I turned off the voice box and listened to Jason and Trevor swap stories and shoot the breeze. Who knows, maybe some friendships were formed out there, facilitated only by this silly endeavor. Maybe that’ll be the real fruit of this labor. 

At 5:00am, just when Jason and Trevor had to go, Robert Hendrickson was back, followed by Colin Cass at 5:30am. Colin brought me a green tea. My throat was pleased. Nikki’s childhood friend Katie was back at 6:30, my bro Eric shows up (again), and others trickle in as 8am quickly approached.

In these final hours, I’d been relegated to hiking the entire up and slowly jogging the down. Pain management was the aim. What took me 25 minutes for a full lap early in the run was now taking me 45. But this was no speed record attempt. This was more than that. 

With the sun fully up, I knew I was going to make it. I was surrounded by loved ones and it honestly felt similar to my wedding day, where you’re the center of attention and everyone is just there to support you. All I can think about is how I am going to someday return the favor to all those who showed up. They served as such great examples for me — I learned so much from them. 

I’m thanking a lot of people here, but without my wife Nikki, my son Dashel, and my baby girl Belen, there’s not a chance in a million years I would be here on the hill. They are my life-raft, my strength, and the force that drives me day in and day out. There are no words to describe how central my family is to me. Deepest love.

As the final seconds clicked down and I arrived at the base of the butte for a final time, the cow bells were again ringing, cameras were snapping, hugs and high-fives were exchanged, and I was totally floating. 

I accepted all the compliments and was grateful for each and every person there. But when I looked around, I couldn’t help but think about why I wasn’t very often the face in the crowd for these sorts of things. Why haven’t I crewed more for buddies? Why don’t I show up more at the big moments for them? When will I give up my entire evening and stick around, even when I need to wake up early the next morning? 

Selflessness. It’s more rare than you’d think and something that, quite frankly, I haven’t been the best at. I intend to remedy that. I want this to be only the very beginning of a greater narrative that has yet to unfold. So here’s one last THANK YOU to everyone that was involved! This adventure only served to solidify and confirm the life changes I recently made. I think I’ve found my path. Let’s keep this ball rolling, build up our communities, tell our stories, and of course, keep running. 

 

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