....and then he was done

Ninety days.

 

I've run...I've walked...I've deliriously stumbled along the side of the highway for a couple of miles completely unaware of my surroundings. I camped behind bushes on the side of a very busy highway, slept on Indian Reservations, was put up by awesome firefighters through the entire state of New Mexico and into Texas -- and met folks that will be  a part of my life from here on out.

 

This run is done.

 

Today, I jogged in from The Lubbock Lake Landmark to the Southwest Cancer Center and closed the book on the physical aspect of this event at noon -- sick once again, but thrilled all the same -- and sort of sad. Call it Stockholm syndrome if you'd like. If the hiking pack has been my captor, I identify with its cause. It was sort of sad looking at it and knowing I'll have no reason to put it on Monday morning. The purpose it served is no longer applicable to what I'm doing now, or in the near future. We'll have our time again though -- the pack and I. More on that in another blog...

 

My family was, of course, thrilled that this is over. We had a nice media turnout, and I think they made sure to let every outlet know that. I can see why, but hopefully my making it here intact will give them a little more confidence when I pursue my next endeavor. I survived, the conditions were not always pleasant, but I am well.

 

I've said before, nothing about this run was optimal on the surface. Injury, illness, bleeding feet, lack of run support -- A cursory glance at the events of this run without context makes it look like a disaster. Far from it. This happened just the way it needed to. It has taught me things on myriad levels, personal and technical. I know how I'll tackle events like this from now on (there will be many) as far as media and preperation are concerned. I put this together in three months. I trained, worked on sponsors, and dug up a run crew in that small window. Without question, if I do anything this big again (and I most certainly will), I'll give it nine months -- minimum.

 

On a personal level? Well...I'll keep it simple. This run saved my life. It made me stronger, restored a hell of a lot of my confidence, and reminded me of who I've always been -- and how I want to live. The details are all in the previous blogs. I can't really say it better than I already have. I found love, hope, and peace on this journey.

 

Wow...

 

I swear, I don't smell like patchouli, in case that immediately lept to mind upon reading that sentence.

 

So, what's next?

 

That's a big question, with a complicated answer. I'll definitely be attacking that one after some days of rest. What I do know, is that this site is not going away, nor is the million dollar goal. There is so much I'd like to accomplish.

 

The Badwater 100.

 

The Boston Marathon.

 

The Pacific Crest Trail.

 

I'd like to run in Europe, Africa....everywhere. I intend to do so.

 

That's not all though. There are so many other things to experience -- so many ways to test myself, have fun, soak up life. We're not here long, I'm almost thirty. I have a lot to do, and little time to do it.

 

Thank you all for following the run, keeping me company, urging me on, and lending a hand when you could. When I announce my next endeavor, I hope you will all be a part of that too.

 

All the best, folks.

 

-Dustin Hucks