67 Hours-Blistering Heat-A Severe Thunderstorm-A Lot of Miles-A Positive Mindset

As I sat in my camp waiting for my start time at ARFTA (A Race For The Ages) I was feeling confident about the race. I really had no good reason to be confident. This was my first race since May 2 when I was running a 50K trail in New York State. That race was a disaster as I fell hard and broke my shoulder. I was laid up in a sling for almost two months and did not run for a little more than two months. I did run for two months before this race, but it was not the most intensive training I have ever done. The other thing that gave me pause besides my training was that it was unbearably hot with temperatures expected to be over 100 degrees on the asphalt during the middle of the day. Heat is the most difficult weather for me to conquer as a runner. Some of my most difficult times as a runner have been in excessive heat.

During the time I was recovering from my injury, I almost cancelled my registration for this race, thinking that I definitely was not prepared to run well over 100 miles. Then I saw that the legendary ultra runner Ann Trason, who has rheumatoid arthritis, was going to run the race with her walker. My excuse seemed so flimsy in comparison that I had no choice but to continue.

Yet despite my earlier trepidation, for some reason I was confident that I could run quite a few miles in the 67 hours allotted to me. The year before I had done 160 miles and while I did not expect to do that again I was sure I could get in at least 130 miles. When I was training my mindset was positive. Training for me is not just about the physical aspect but keeping your mindset positive and gritty. I always envision conquering my next race as I do a training run.

Start times for ARFTA are by age. The older you are, the earlier you start. I was in with the other 67-year-olds and about half the runners were older than us and the other half were younger. There were a little more than 150 people registered.

My plan was simple. I planned to accumulate most of my miles in the night and early morning. During the middle of that day, when temperatures were over 100 degrees, my plan was to take it easy and move it slower. Maybe I would even take my naps during the middle of the day. It sounded great on paper but last year I couldn’t stay awake at night and overslept a couple of times. I also wondered how easy it would be to sleep in the brutal heat with the sun shining.

That first night actually went well. My age group started at 4 p.m. so we did not get much of the brutal heat. I was able to stay awake pretty much the whole night. I had used an electrolyte that was infused with caffeine and every hour or so I would take a swig of Pepsi, which also contains caffeine. What I did notice, however, was that in my age group were two super-strong runners. Steve, who in the past three years had run over 200 miles and won two out of the three races, was one of them. The other was Ed, who I met in the morning over breakfast. He was very impressive and seemed stronger than even Steve that first night.

As the morning came, I still felt okay. The heat was rising fast and wherever there was shade I ran in it. Then the heat by 10 a.m. was brutal and I noticed fewer runners. I myself just went to a steady walk. I saw Ed and he said he was going to take a nap, so I did not see him again for a few hours. Nobody was running except Steve and even he slowed down to a walk. Some people decided to rest at a hotel and get refreshed and then run harder in the late afternoon after the heat had broken somewhat.  I just went slowly trying to accumulate miles but not overexert and burn myself out.

I was drinking plenty of fluids and kept eating every six hours or so. Towards the end of the afternoon, I called my wife to touch base, and she said I was doing good. She told me that I was in the top twenty. I forgot that there was a link where you could follow the runners online, but I wasn’t worried about standings yet.

Overnight as it got closer to midnight, we could all see and hear thunder and lightning in the distance. Every time I completed a loop, I either picked something from my camp and put in my car, or I moved things to the middle of the canopy to keep them from getting wet in the impending storm.

Then the storm hit and it was torrential. It was not only a lot stronger than I anticipated but it lasted a lot longer. It was almost three hours. I had taken shelter in my car and dozed off in the car for some much-needed sleep. Then the rain stopped and everyone started popping out and started walking and running again. It was about 3 a.m. and I checked my canopy and camp. My heart sank. While it had survived the wind, the water had pooled on the canopy and it collapsed. I took the tarp off the mangled frame. It was dark so I told myself that I would continue moving and assess the damage in the light. Besides I was closing in on 100 miles.

Yet as I moved my mind was not in a good place. I was contemplating getting my 100 miles and calling it a race since I would not have a camp. It was going to be another hot day, and I would not have any shelter. Yet I kept moving, walking very steadily and with purpose. The storm had not only cost me my camp but time for covering miles.

When daylight came it confirmed my initial thoughts that my camp was no longer viable. I decided however that I would keep my antigravity chair, ice chest and one plastic bin out in the open under some trees and continue my race.  This day was extremely hot like the previous day. Many runners in the middle of the day again took a break away from the heat and headed to a hotel or their camp to get away from the heat. I trudged on with only a couple of things slowing me down. The first was every time I came by I would try to clean up one thing in my camp. Often that meant throwing things out near the garbage can. That included my canopy frame. The second thing that slowed me down was that as the sun rose my chair was now in the sun and I had to keep moving it into the shade. Almost a reverse sundial.

As the last night was coming upon us Patty from Texas said to me “Ray you are doing good. You’re in the top ten.” I had completely forgotten once again that we could track the standings. I checked the standings and saw that I was in eighth place. The competitive juices came out, and I wanted to stay in the top ten. I actually picked up my pace.

It is hard to explain how one keeps going in the wee hours of the night with little sleep, but I did. There were a couple of times I was exhausted and took longer rests—perhaps 25 minutes or so. I remember coming out and starting to move after a longer rest. Someone yelled to someone else. “Number 8 is back out.” I guess others were checking the standings. We were all pushing each other. The gap between fifth place and ninth place was only a few miles. I had to keep going if I was going to stay in the top ten.

I did pause however to watch Ann Trason, the runner who suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, get to 100 miles with her walker just before the sun rose. It was a very impressive feat.

My pace was much better now, and I saw that I moved up to sixth place in the morning. The problem was that all the people behind me were still moving so if I stopped, I would surely fall in the standings. I didn’t want to fall in the standings, I noticed one runner, Ruth was moving faster than me. If I was going to maintain sixth place, I would need to pick up my pace which I did and actually ran two of the last three laps before the noon end time to put me at 151 miles which amazed me. I had more in the tank than I thought.

After the race I got to my hotel room and checked in early. I showered, then ate a sandwich and tried to drink a beer but after eating I fell sound asleep in the afternoon not even halfway through the beer.

Looking back, I think that my confidence is what got me through the race despite the heat and my limited training. Doing ultramarathons is often more a mental game than a physical one. Keeping a positive mindset and focusing on moving forward is so important. When you are running and walking for almost three days you have to overcome negative thoughts that creep into your head.

Early in the race I remember crossing paths with Steve who ended up winning the race. I yelled “How are you doing?”  He shakes his head and says, “I’m not feeling it.” I replied, “You will.” Like me, after my camp was destroyed, he was down but just kept going until pretty soon he was dominating. That is what the mental training does for you. It gets through those negative moments.

Maybe I didn’t have a good reason for being confident, but confidence is what got me through the race successfully.

Is Adventurous Running the Key to a Happy Life?

I had breakfast with a friend recently and our conversation drifted all over the place. We discussed work, leadership, and creating a life with meaning. Building a purposeful life is different for me now that I am in my 60s than it was when I was thirty. During the conversation my running adventures came up.  Running is now a core part of my identity.

As we parted ways, my friend said to me “Ray with your running adventures and outlook you have the best grasp of the work/life balance of anyone I know.” That was one of the nicest compliments I have ever received. I am not sure if she thought that because I have a handle on work/life balance or if it’s just that everyone else she knows, doesn’t!  I would like to think it is the former. I will admit that for some reason I find balancing life easier now than when I was younger.

I also think that she hit on a key reason for my perceived balance—my adventures in ultra-marathon running.  It doesn’t seem immediately intuitive that taking additional time out of my busy life to run for long periods of time would add balance to my life, but it has. I have to say I am happy in my life. I am not sure why I am afraid to admit that but I am. It’s not that everything goes my way but a snub or conflict at work does not define me. I think too many people have their identity wrapped up in their work. More on that later.

Yet I knew that she was correct that my running has led to much more happiness. I wasn’t sure why. But I knew in my heart that it was true.

The next day I picked up a week-old copy of the New York Times that I had meant to read but hadn’t found the time. After I read the articles for which I had saved the paper for, I serendipitously noticed a small headline about a podcast Why are People Drawn to Extreme Sports. This reignited my thinking of how ultra-running had changed me. Since this was a paper newspaper (Yes, on weekends I still get a paper copy of the New York Times.) I had to do a quick search and found the podcast Speaking of Psychology: Why are People Drawn to Extreme Sports. The guest was an Australian psychologist Dr. Eric Brymer. I thought maybe this might explain my experience.

I almost didn’t listen to the whole podcast because his definition of “extreme sports” was a narrow one. A criterion was that possible death was the result of a miscalculation. For example, cliff jumping or rock climbing with just your hands and no equipment.  While Dr. Brymer would not consider ultra running an “extreme sport” his profile of the individuals who participate in those sports did resonate with my personal experiences and motivations.

When you think of why people would get involved in such sports, including ultra-running, there is a two-part question. First: Why did they start down that road?  The more important question though is: Why do they continue to pursue these endeavors even as they age? I have pondered why I can’t stop and why do I push myself? It was hard to explain but Dr. Brymer’s findings affirm my feelings. He states that “Actually, what we find is for most participants, the reason they continue is because they get something so powerfully transformational and beneficial from it.”

That is a good description of why I continue. There are benefits to ultra-running that Dr. Brymer touches on. It has been known for a long time that physical activity is good for the body and the soul.  It is also known that being outdoors near nature is good for you as well so any activity that combines both is good for you. What separates “extreme” sports and I will include ultra-running in that from other activities is that you almost always get tested personally. Your planning, preparation and skills are always being tested. Each race is so different that every race is an adventure.

This brings me back to my friend who thought that somehow, I have a balanced life, and that my running had something to do with it. Dr. Brymer would agree. As he states “…doing the adventure, and the extreme sport, does change your attitude in everyday life as well. It changes the way you interact with others, the way you experience your relationship with the natural world, it changes the way you experience everyday activities.”

Both my friend and Dr. Brymer used the same word – adventure. My perception of life has changed through all these adventures. I have definitely gathered more confidence in my ability not just in running long distances but in my ability to do other things in my life. Yet there is more to it.

Much as traveling to faraway places broadens our experiences, ultra-running does the same for me. Dr. Brymer makes the case that humans by nature are adventurous beings. We pretty much expanded our homelands to the entire globe from a humble beginning in Africa.

Extreme sports (and I would include ultra-running) are very adventurous activities. They do make you feel more alive than sitting in an office on your computer. Nowadays we generally have safe comfortable lives, and technology makes our lives even easier every day. It is hard to break away from comfort of a recliner with a remote control, Siri, and your cellphone. We do for the most part have our food and shelter taken care of. Yet it is when we break away from that comfortable life when we really start to live.

I mentioned at the beginning that many people have their identity wrapped up in their work. To their credit they are usually very competent at their work. Maybe because that is the only part of their life in which they find adventure. Yet I have seen too many of them stay too long at a job because that is what identifies them. Having interests and activities outside of your work is healthier. It also makes you more interesting.

I believe that Dr. Brymer did hit on something when he spoke about doing something that is adventurous, although my definition would probably be more expansive than his. I think an adventurous endeavor is a more personal event. It does not have to be death-defying to be adventurous. The author Eudora Welty once wrote “All serious daring starts from within.”  An adventure just needs to be something that takes you out of your comfort zone and also tests you a bit.

For example, I ran the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim unsupported and solo. Something that Dr. Brymer might even said was “extreme” though as I was doing it I kept thinking to myself. I would love to do this slower. It wouldn’t be a harder adventure, but it would still be an adventure.

Some of my most memorable, uplifting and spiritual runs were not extremely difficult. Whether it was a desert run in Zion National Park, a rainy and windy run up along a rugged coastline of Ireland, or even a nice run on a country road in New England, they all had a bit of adventure to them. While they were in nature and had physical activity tied to them, they were far from extreme.

So, adventure is good for you, and you don’t necessarily have to go to extremes to find it. In fact, a good place to start is by looking within yourself.

There is a Price for Pushing Yourself to Your Limits in an Ultra

 

“I owned every second that this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived” – OneRepublic

I believe strongly in pushing yourself to your limits.

Most times we do not even know what our limits are, or what we are capable of until we push ourselves. I have accomplished some things in running that I never dreamed of.

Since reaching the age of 60, I have run numerous races and ultra-marathons that I am proud of. Listing these accomplishments seems to give them a sense of inevitability that tends to minimize their difficulty.  Yet, as I was recently reminded, those difficulties are real and there is a price to be paid for pushing yourself to extremes.  

When I talk about the “price” I am not talking about the time put in for training or other considerations. I am talking about the price of failure. That price can be steep--sometimes very steep. The question is whether that price is worth it. This is something I ponder in every difficult endeavor.

You see on every ultra-marathon, even though I am running       solo, I have an unwelcome running partner who is not very supportive. Running alongside me is the possibility of failure. Because I am choosing to do something that is difficult for me, failure is a stronger possibility than if I had played it safe.

I was running a rugged 50K trail race in Bear Mountain, New York. The course was single-track, rocky, slippery, and had very few truly runnable sections. I felt good about my pace and stayed cautious on the slick, rocky parts. Then, while moving with the pack on a relatively flat stretch, I relaxed for a moment, tripped, and fell hard. I threw out my arms to catch myself, and the pain in my shoulder was immediately excruciating. With help from other runners, I got back to my feet and knew my race was over. I have fallen many times in trail races and am no stranger to pain. Usually, I shake it off and keep going, even if I have to walk at first. This time, though, my only thought was how to get medical help. I knew the injury was serious. It turned out I had broken the humerus in my shoulder.

I couldn’t remember how far it was to the next aid station. The other runners gave me conflicting answers from one mile to seven. While there was an aid station in about a mile and a half it was just a table in the woods with water. Even walking was painful as I had no use of my right arm. As I walked I used my left hand to steady and hold up my right arm. I was extremely lucky when two runners stopped to see if I needed help. One was trained in first aid and said I needed to put my arm in a sling. The other runner who didn’t know the first runner said “I have a roll of gauze.” And presto I had a sling.

While the sling helped, I still had to walk 3.5 miles to take a DNF (Did Not Finish). Yes, I had a solid reason for not finishing this race but I still found it hard to accept that I failed to finish. My very reason for running these races is to overcome difficult obstacles. As each runner passed me the pain of the DNF was more acute. I tried to take solace in the fact that if I hadn’t gotten hurt, I would have finished ahead of most of those runners. Yet I was still down. There would be no finisher medal and t-shirt for me.

It’s not like I was unaware of the possibility. After all when I registered for the race I had to sign a waiver that I was aware of the risks of doing a race like this.

Yet it was not just the DNF and the excruciating pain that I was in that had me thinking. All of the races and runs I had planned for the next couple of months would not happen. There was also the matter of my daughter was getting married in two weeks.

It was at the wedding that I paid another price for my injury. A couple of friends teased me about it. I had always said that ultra-marathons were “fun” which I know most people besides ultra-runners get. Now my friends wanted to know when the “fun” was starting. It is amazing how the result of your performance affects people’s perception of your actions. Last year I completed seven ultra-marathons and people complimented me and admired my accomplishments. Now, after this injury I heard the loud whispers. You are too old. This is too dangerous.

They obviously feel that the price I pay for pushing myself is too high. There is no way it can be worth it.

The question is what do I think of the possible price to attempt races that will test my limits? When I finish them, it is an easy answer. But when I fail, take a DNF, and am seriously injured it is still an easy answer. Yes, I would do the race again. In fact, I am scheduled to do the same race again next year.  Yes, the price was steep for this challenge. Yet those challenges would not be so rewarding if they were easy.

I have usually completed the hard races I’ve signed up for. That success breeds resiliency. That resiliency is what I needed to walk out of the forest and then drive over an hour home so my wife could get me medical care. That may seem like a steep price for one race. Yet the price I pay is for a lifestyle of doing hard things. When you look at all the races it is a small price to pay. In fact, if I include the resiliency and satisfaction of completing runs that were beyond my capabilities when I was younger, the price is miniscule.

We should not only try things when the risk of failure is very low. Easy victories are not life changing. Being afraid of failure will most certainly limit your success. I will admit however that talking about facing failure is easy when you succeed. For me now, I have to accept failure and plan a comeback that will most definitely rely on resiliency.  It will test my patience because this will be a slow and methodical recovery.

This comeback will take more effort to get to the starting line than most of my races took to get to the finish line. This will take more self-motivation than normal. I do have a goal of doing an ultra-marathon in September. It is a flat paved course so there is little risk of falling. Hey, I may be daring, but I am not reckless,

Ironically my motivation now comes from those people who think I should stop these races because of my age. Nothing motivates me more than proving the doubters wrong.

So, I hope I answered the question about the price of the challenge and whether it is worth it. Let me leave you with one final thought. The people who tend to think that the price is too high for pushing yourself, seem to be under the impression that there is no price or cost to bear doing nothing and playing it safe. I believe that there is a price. A steep price in fact. A life of wondering what if? Wondering what would have happened if you tried. A life filled with would’ve and could’ve.

I am not willing to pay that price. As OneRepublic says “Yeah, with every broken bone (literally in this case.) I swear I lived”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Running Fall that Derailed a Runner and a Writer

A little more than a week ago, I was on a trail race when I suddenly took a bad fall.  After hitting the ground, I knew immediately my race was over.  The pain in my right shoulder was excruciating.

I have fallen often on these races and usually just get up, walk off the pain and start running again. But this pain was different.  An x-ray confirmed my suspicions: I had broken the humerus bone in my right shoulder.  I am right-handed, so not only did this mean I couldn’t finish the day’s race; this was an injury that was going to hinder my everyday activities.

I prepared myself to make the necessary adjustments for the next few months. No running or races. There would be no driving, great difficulty sleeping, no cooking, and no washing dishes (Honestly, I was able to adjust to this rather easily.) In addition, many of the little things that we all take for granted—such as showering, brushing my teeth, and yes, even going to the bathroom—were going to be much more difficult. While all these things are frustrating, the thing that surprised and upset me the most was my inability to write.

This is not just the inability to use my right hand on the keyboard, although that was the first domino to fall. I realized that there were two options to write. The first would be to hunt and peck with my left hand. That’s obviously a very slow option, though since I am a “hunt and peck” typist now, that’s not as drastic a change as you might think. The other option was to use the “dictate” feature in Word and instead of having the words flow from my fingers, have them flow from my lips.

First, I tried just using my left hand – really just my left index finger – to type. That immediately proved to be frustrating. While I was able to answer emails, it took a lot longer than I wanted. It was like driving to a major event that you are late for and getting stuck behind a tractor-trailer going exceedingly slow uphill with no passing lanes for miles. The thoughts and ideas started backing up in my mind. It was a pileup of jumbled thoughts. While I loved some of the ideas, I ended up walking away from the traffic jam in my head.

Next up was the dictation feature. I thought this would be great. Instead of my fingers putting my thoughts down it would be my lips. Surprisingly, this was even more frustrating. I tried dictating a blog entry but there were times when I had to pause to find the right word and stopped talking. Something was being lost in translation from my mouth. I looked at what I had “written” and it was awful. The writing was so stilted and rigid. It was not even salvageable with editing.

Oh yes, editing. This is the other frustration not having use of my right hand. I am embarrassingly clumsy just moving the mouse with my left hand. While I always have a final work proofed, I have enough pride that I want the draft to be readable. This was not readable.

Since you are reading this you must be wondering what I did. First of all, I realized that there is pace for each writer and that the fingers and the brain work in unison. Sometimes the thought that you originally had comes out differently as you type it – in effect, you’re editing as you commit words to paper.  

You don’t want all your ideas to be trapped in that traffic jam in your head because you can’t get them out fast enough. My fall may have halted many things that I took for granted in life. However, it did ignite one thing in me—the desire to write stories about facing failure, coping with limits and making a comeback. I remember distinctly that as I was taking the painful 3.5 mile walk out of the forest after I fell, the thought occurred to me that this was a great story that I needed to write about.

I am old enough to remember when writing was an extremely time-consuming process. This was before there were laptops and the word processor. For me, typing an article took several steps. First, I wrote it down with pen and paper. Then I typed it up. After which I edited it and typed it again. Even then many of us needed to use a product called “Wite Out” to paint over mistakes and correct them. Deciding to move a paragraph from one place to another meant retyping the whole document. So, writing started as very arduous chore. I needed to adjust back to an earlier time.

To help myself adjust, I took a lesson from my running experience. I am an unusual runner. Most runners settle on a specific type of race and distance. They may do 5Ks, half marathons, marathons, or ultra-marathons. They don’t deviate too much from their comfort zone. I am different. Last year I ran anywhere from a 5K to 66-hour multiday run. From trail races to road races.  The key to adjusting to this variety of races is adjusting your pace. On a 5K I am flying, while during a multi-day race, I take my time and even sleep. So, I am used to adjusting my pace.

My problem in writing was that I was trying to write at a 5K pace when I needed to be going at a much slower pace. Pretty much an ultra-marathon pace. I went to my left-hand hunt and peck method. Yes, it was arduous and frustrating but like rehabbing from a physical injury in running, you have to start somewhere. There is one other thing that is similar to finding new way of writing, which is similar to coming back from a running injury. After I had completed a long arduous comeback from a knee injury in running, I realized what a gift it was to run. I appreciated that running had become part of my identity.

The same is true about writing. While I will never be a best-selling author or someone who is remembered for their graceful prose, it is still part of who I am.  It is worth working hard at to keep it in my life. I did not fully realize this until my fall.

It is not until you face the loss of something and realize that it is part of you that you put a concerted effort into getting it back into your life. You are not only willing to be frustrated, but take the frustration as a good sign.

I am quite frustrated and a bit down since my bad fall in the woods. Yet knowing what my goals are and why I need to achieve them provides me with motivation, patience and contentment on this challenging journey ahead.

How COVID Made me a Better Runner and a More Content Person

As I sit at the keyboard, I realize that it has been about six years since the COVID-19  hit our nation and I was stricken with COVID. Where I live in northern New Jersey it hit early and hard. Yet now it almost seems like a distant memory—as if it was just a bad dream. As a nation we have moved on.  Much has been written on how it affected our society. Nearly all those COVID memories and associations are rightfully negative. Mine are too. Yet if I am completely honest with myself it did change me in some positive ways. I am slightly embarrassed to admit that. Yet it is true that I am more content as a person and a much better runner. Let me explain.

In April 2020, I wouldn’t have believed that I would ever say anything remotely positive about my experience with COVID. I should note that during the pandemic I lost family and friends to the disease. So, I am not saying I would ever want to go through anything so deadly and tragic and scary again. But sometimes we can learn from tragedies.

My COVID story is that when the pandemic hit in mid-March my work immediately became remote. I ran before COVID but now that I did not have my 90-minute daily commute to work, I used that time to run. I naively thought that my running would stave off COVID.  

One day in April I came back from my morning run and noticed on my watch that my heart rate had jumped up to 200 beats per minute. I didn’t feel anything unusual, but I was wary because it was not a hard run and my heart rate was never even close to that before. The next morning, I tried running but at the end had to walk back to my house exhausted. I was an avid runner who had run a 50-mile race and a 50k. Now I couldn’t finish a five-mile run.

I collapsed at my house and then had no energy and a cough brewing. I suspected I had COVID so I went to get a test. Now this was not at a doctor’s office or a hospital, this was when they weren’t doing that. I drove to the parking lot of a local community college and waited in line with other cars while people in hazmat gear checked us in and put a swab up our nose all without us getting out of our car.

I got a call the next day that, I was positive. For the next two plus weeks I was restricted to the den away from my family with a high fever of 102, a persistent bad cough and complete fatigue. My wife would put meals for me at the door. I never thought my life was threatened. I was positive that I would win this fight but very unsure if I would ever run again. Many people never fully recovered from COVID.

Despite my inability to walk or even stay awake for most of the day, something began to rise in me that has made me a much better and more appreciative runner. It was because my mindset changed on running. Suddenly running was not just a fun hobby. It was not just a way to stay fit. It became much more. All of a sudden, I realized that running was part of my identity.  Sometimes you do not realize how important something is to you until it is taken away from you.

I realized that running even at the age of 60 is a gift. Maybe even more so as we age. It was at my weakest moment that my goal was to run again. Not only just run again but to run an ultra-marathon. Admittedly I was motivated by fear. Fear that this gift might be taken from me.

It took about two weeks for my fever to break and a week or so more, for my cough to begin to subside. I felt the urge to move and walk even though I knew that I could not run.  I was motivated by my goal to push myself to run an ultra-marathon. Ironically the day I came down with COVID was the day I was supposed to do a 50k out near Zion National Park. I think this also sparked my goal to do an ultra-marathon. My mind was more focused than ever on being a runner. Yet while my mind was there, my body most definitely was not.

It was unseasonably cold when I went on my first few walks which were only a couple of miles. Before COVID I loved running in cold weather but even though I was bundled up when I breathed in the chilly air the cold seemed to infiltrate my entire body. My training to become a runner began with these short slow walks. Then after a couple of weeks, I began to stretch them out.  Yet I somehow knew I was not ready to run.  I was actually afraid to try to run. What if I couldn’t do it? I needed something to get me to take the next step.

Sometimes on my walks I would go to a local park and hike in the forest. It was here that the “Running Gods” sent me a sign that it was time to run. It was a beautiful day in May and I was hiking in one of my favorite parks when I saw a trail runner approaching me. She stopped when she saw me because I was wearing a T-shirt from an ultra-trail race that I had done.  She had done the same race and was supposed to do it again that very day, but it had been cancelled because of COVID. The pandemic was still raging so we chatted eight or nine feet apart about various races. We ran in the same races. We eventually went our separate ways, but that brief conversation reminded me that I was a runner and needed to run.

The next day I went to our town park which is completely flat and decided I would try and run. I was so nervous. Worse than any pre-race jitters. What if I can’t run? I used to be very confident when I ran but now, I was not. 

As I took my first few strides, I was nervous but then everything began to feel familiar. The comfort of settling into a nice pace. The feel of the wind as you run. Even the sweat that began to drip from my hair. After three and half miles I had my answer, I was a runner again!

After that run I never looked back. I signed up for virtual running challenges. Since my work was still remote, I started to use my commuting time to run.  I had a goal of doing an ultra-marathon and pushed myself more than I had previously to see what I could accomplish.

COVID had taught me one thing and that was that time was precious, very precious. Time is also limited and is not guaranteed. It is a person’s most precious commodity along with good health. I now had both and was not going to squander them. I also told people that I eliminated the word “later” from my dictionary. If I wanted to do something I would not wait to do it later. Later is not guaranteed.

There were almost no in-person races going on that summer as the pandemic was in full swing, I signed up for several virtual challenges and began my daily runs with a new urgency. I was crushing my virtual challenges, but I needed a real race. Yet they were not there. After all, my goal was to run an ultra-marathon.

Finally, a 50k opened up and I immediately signed up. I needed to test myself completely. It was not an easy course and was comprised mostly of single-track trails with plenty of rocks. It was my first test since my battle with COVID. It was not easy but I finished.

That accomplishment completed the change.  From that day forward I pushed myself harder than before and sought out races that would challenge me. After all there was no longer a “later” only the now. Since that moment I have done so many ultra-marathons and crazy runs. I went to Zion to do the 50k that was cancelled, ran a hundred miles seven times, ran the length of my home state of New Jersey (196) miles and even did the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to rim run.

I run with more joy because I realize being able to run is a gift. I am also more content not just as a runner but a person because I no longer wait for “later.”

Winter Running Means Embracing the Cold

I was trudging up a narrow road and finishing my early morning run when I saw a middle-aged couple getting out of their car. Even though I did not know them I said “Hi” as I approached them. The woman had a befuddled look on her face like she was seeing something she could not understand. She said, “You really enjoy running in this weather?” New Jersey had been in the grasp of an extreme cold spell and most of my runs were in the single digits, though on this day it was a balmy 15 degrees. I replied “Yes!” She replied with an incredulous “Really?” She looked at me like I was the bearded lady in a circus exhibit. I did not have the heart to say that I like it a lot better than heat. I struggle when it gets into the high 80’s or 90’s.

I knew she didn’t live in that house because I run this route almost daily and know the faces of the homeowners. I pictured her entering the house and telling her friends that she saw a man running outside in this cold weather, and what a strange neighborhood this is.

I find it fascinating that people are so shocked that I run in the cold. Besides that woman, others have been shocked when, on an extremely frigid day, I note that I did my morning run outside. People have asked “Doesn’t it hurt to breath in that weather?” My reply is “No”. It is as if running is a warm weather sport only. I must admit that there are runners I know who, when the temperatures dip below the freezing mark, head to a treadmill or a fitness center. When I first took up running, I was a heavy treadmill user even joining an online system so that I could pretend that I was running in all parts of the world. Now I search for races that take place in all parts of the world. I believe the last time I was on my treadmill was about ten months ago and that was when I was training for running the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim and my second run of the day would be put on the steepest incline so I could extra incline in my workout. Simulating a long steep climb out of the canyon.

What happened you might ask? Well, my racing now is almost exclusively ultra-marathons and trail races. While treadmills give you great workouts, I find that running is more than just the miles covered. All miles are not created equal. The type of races I run challenge you with the terrain and elements. Conquering miles is relatively easy conquering bad weather and difficult terrain is another. Therefore, I decided to run outside no matter what.

I soon found many benefits to running in all types of weather. First you learn how to dress for the elements. There is an old saying which I believe is Norwegian and it is “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.” I have found this to be almost completely true. I now look at the weather forecast on my phone and adjust my gear to the temperatures I will be facing.

Second, and maybe most surprisingly, cold runs are almost more peaceful. After a snowfall it is eerily quiet and beautiful. There are always fewer people out and there are not as many birds and animals. They will all return in the spring. It is more meditative to run when the only thing you can hear are your own footsteps and breathing.

Third, it helps build resilience. Obstacles are placed in front of us daily. Despite my bravado about running in the cold, it is always a chore to get out from under a nice warm blanket in bed and bundle on the layers to brave the cold. We humans – as most creatures –instinctively like a warm and comfortable setting as opposed to one that is cold, frigid, and sometimes even wet.

My morning routine actually starts the night before. I check the hourly weather on my phone to see what it will be like around 7 a.m. I brace myself for hot weather in the summer, and rain and wind particularly in spring and fall. In the winter however you need to really get your mind around running in tough weather. Especially frigid temperatures in the single digits like we have experienced this year. 

In order to ease my run on those mornings I get my running gear out the night before. On those days when it is single digits it is a pile of layers of clothing. Heavy winter gloves with an extra glove liner. Long pants with a base layer. Not just a winter cap but a head mask. After years of running outside in almost all weathers I have a routine and outfit for all occasions.

As you can see, it takes some effort to get out the front door. Yet once out that front door and I start running it seems the cold is not that much an issue if I am dressed correctly. I usually make that assessment at mile two. The one weather element that can affect me the most is wind. Especially a strong gust. It can instantly make you cold when just a second before you were fine.

While there are some nerves about going out the front door there is great feeling when coming back in the front door. On weekends my wife or son may be there to greet me and not really congratulate me but question my sanity.

When I arrive home, I begin to shed the many layers I am wearing. This is not as easy as it sounds because my glasses fog up instantly as I get inside. I begin to leave a pile of clothes and gear in the foyer. The only thing that dampens my enthusiasm is knowing that all those layers will need to be washed.

There is always a great feeling finishing a run that is hard to explain to others. It means no matter what happens the rest of the day you have accomplished something. That feeling of accomplishment is stronger on a cold frigid day. You not only finished your run but you conquered the elements. You overcame an obstacle. Other people may be deterred but you were not. I am not crazy but determined.

A couple of days later it was the coldest day of the year, at one degree with wind chills at seventeen below zero.  I am once again finishing up my run of seven miles, when I see my friend Joe coming out the front door of his house as I run by his house. He looks at me and says “Ray, you know you are crazy.” As if there is no debate on the issue. I replied “Just a little.” That is the thing that one has to accept when you run in the frigid cold. You think you are determined but your family, friends and even strangers think you are crazy. Maybe I am, but as I told Joe, only a little.

Powered by the Placebo in the Race and in Life

Like any athlete (Yes, at 66 I still consider myself an athlete) I am always looking for ways to improve my performance. As one who runs ultra marathons, I am particular about my shoes, socks, and other gear. I’m always looking for something that could make me more successful. I am even particular about the placebo I use as a supplement. Yes, I do take a supplement and have done so for years.

I am fairly certain that the company that manufactures my supplement would take umbrage that I am calling their product a placebo. In that company’s defense, I did analyze their research and their claims and felt comfortable enough to order the product.

And as I said, I have been taking it for years now. What I noticed after a while was that my recovery was much easier once I was taking the supplement. After a grueling race I used to be very sore and stiff the next day or two and I almost always took Ibuprofen to ease the pain. Even my wife began to notice. Not long ago, without prompting, she said “I don’t know what it is but your recovery from these races is so much better.” I am sure that the company would like that quote for their advertisement.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I am paying money for sugar pills. I believe that this supplement works. They key word there is “believe.”  If one believes they will perform that goes a long way. Without believing your performance will suffer.

Yet believing has made it difficult when researchers do studies on performance-enhancing nutrients that will increase oxygen flow to muscles or blood flow. Because many studies have shown that athletes’ performances improve with the placebos because they just believe they will. In fact, there have been studies in which all the athletes were just given placebos and were lied to, and told it was a performance-enhancing procedure. Then low and behold their performances improved.

That is the power of the placebo. It makes you believe in your ability to accomplish something.  Success in running or almost any endeavor relies on one believing that they can do something. Not thinking they “probably can” but have the confidence that they will do something. This may seem like it is a slight change in your mindset, but it is huge. It means that you have confidence in your ability to achieve something.

Now you may be asking yourself, “Ray if you think that your supplement is a placebo then how can it improve your recovery?” That is a good question. I wish I had a great answer. First, I do really believe that it helped my recovery. Primarily because, I was not looking for it to do that but was pleasantly surprised. Second, I am good at lying to myself.

All this speaks to the power of the mind in our performance. I have found in my numerous ultra-marathons that it is just as much a mind game as it is a physical feat. There have been many times when I thought my body was near its breaking point only to have my brain tell me we can do it. Like climbing the last steep six miles out of the Grand Canyon last year after having thrown up and with no nutrients in me. Another time my body was able but the brain told me it was time to stop. That was on a 30-hour run and I reached my goal of 100 miles with time to do another loop or two but since I had reached my goal my brain began to shut down and I stopped.

Now I will apologize to the company that produces my supplement. It truly does work. Just like the gear I chose such as my shoes, hydration pack and clothing. Through the process of trial and error I settle on things that I find help me perform my best. Yet they can only do so much. My physical training is very important, so is my mindset. Athletic endeavors are a mix of the body and the mind.

As baseball hall of famer and famous American philosopher Yogi Berra once said “Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical." Many famous professional athletes have superstitions that they follow because they believe it will make them perform better. Serena Williams would wear the same pair of socks throughout a tournament without washing them. Michael Jordan always wore his UNC shorts under his professional shorts. Baseball hall of famer Wade Boggs famously only ate chicken before each game.

Each of these strange actions has something in common with my supplement. (Actually mine at least has some science behind it –at least more science than a smelly sock.) They all help focus our minds on the job at hand. Like those famous athletes I believe that I will succeed. I guess we are all powered by placebos. You just have to truly believe.

Almost Famous as a Local Runner

I was in line at the local hardware store about to pay for my propane tank refill when a man behind me said “Did you get your run in today?” I looked at him with a blank and stunned silence because I did not recognize him. He laughed and said, “I live on Florence Ave and see you running all the time.” Mystery solved because I run on that road almost every day though it was a bit unsettling to know that people are watching as you run past their house.

A few months later I was in the produce section of the supermarket looking at the apples when a man said to me “If you are in here who is running in town?” Once again, I had no idea who he was, and I never found out.

My running routine is very consistent. I run around my lake community as well as another local lake community, down main roads, and sometimes when training for an ultra, I add additional loops to my run. I run in all types of weather, from the hot humid days of summer to the frigid single digits of winter. In rain or snow. I like running in the elements and rarely use my treadmill. Because of this I am a regular sight in the neighborhood. I probably stand out a bit more because of my mop of gray hair.

Since most of my runs are done around the same time in the morning I see a lot of the same people on my run. Most of them are walking their dogs. We are all creatures of habit. For the most part, I do not know most of their names. We simply exchange a quick “Good Morning” and maybe a comment about the weather. My runs are familiar because of both the landscape and the people I see.

While I usually run around the neighborhood sometimes, I walk. One day after a tough marathon I decided to walk with my wife instead of running. While walking through parts of my usual running route, though for a shorter distance, we encountered familiar faces from my runs.  After the third person said, “What you’re not running?” My wife laughed and said “I can’t believe this. How many people do you know?” Another person, John, stopped his car and rolled down his window to say hi.

While I mostly run by people once in a while I will stop and chat with someone, especially if it is someone whose name I know. I frequently see my friend John, who is also a runner, at the school bus stop with his grandchildren. Sometimes I see my friend Dan and we run together for a short time.

Yet there are people who say, “Hi Ray” and I am a bit taken back because I have no idea what their name is. I don’t think that we have been introduced to each other. How do they know my name? Did we meet and I just don’t remember?

Many times, a car drives by me and the driver waves. Are they just being friendly or do I know them? I now wave at most of the cars. It is hard to see through a windshield if they are waving but I am getting pretty good at spotting the hand on the steering wheel rise up. I wave to all the mail carriers—and with one carrier in particular we share exaggerated smiles and waves.

A clue that how they know me is through the grapevine. A fellow runner once stopped me and said “I think you know my son Gray.” I told him my name. He then said “I told my son that I often see an older runner out there and he told me ‘that is Ray.’” I did know his son very well from the lake. I think Gray probably told him about me running the length of New Jersey. That makes me a little different than other runners.

I may stand out because frankly there really are not that many runners that I see on my runs especially on weekdays and bad weather days. Once on a really snowy day I was out there running and one of the people I always say hi to yelled out “Man nothing stops you!”  

I consistently cover 7-10 miles each morning, rarely repeating any part of my route except for less than a mile, usually in the opposite direction. So, if someone is commuting to work, I am a regular sight. If they are walking their dog, I am a regular sight. To the kids and parents at the various bus stops, I am a regular sight

Most people consider someone a neighbor if they live within a block or two of your home. I look at the regular people on my run as my neighbors. This even though they may be miles from my house and even in a different zip code.

Doing these runs for years in the community makes me feel more in tune with the neighborhood. I see the houses that are sold. Houses with additions being added.  Most people have a normal route they may drive through the neighborhood but I serpentine all around so I see the changes almost everywhere.

These runs make me feel connected to the community. After a run I often come home and in a conversation with my wife say, “I love where we live.” 

One time I was walking the neighborhood with my wife when a man waved and said hello. I waved back and said hi. My wife said, “Who was that?” I said, “I don’t know.” She said, “He said your name!” I had not heard that, but it wouldn’t have mattered because I had no idea what his name was. I laughingly told her that it is not always easy being almost famous.

Lesson of the Legends – Part 3 -The Power of the Group and Other People

In sports like football and basketball there is something called the home field or home court advantage. Basically, having a home crowd rooting for the home team usually helps them perform even better and can affect the visiting team’s performance negatively. The power of the crowd is so strong that the oddsmakers in Las Vegas usually measure its worth in pro football games at around 3 points. Think about that. Even though someone is not on the field they can impact someone else’s performance.

What is even more surprising is that at an event like A Race For The Ages (ARFTA) the other runners can also impact the performance of each other and crews can not only impact their runner but other runners as well. I know this is true because it affected my performance.

There are several ways I know this. First is that the ultra-running community is an extremely supportive community. As you are running or walking along the course everyone is so positive and always urging each other on. Even other runner’s crews will cheer you on. Every time I ran by Tom’s daughter Sarah (see previous blog) she cheered me on. It’s a little thing but it lifts your spirits. Ultra-running is just as much a mental exercise as a physical one, so being positive helps a lot. There will be times that you want to quit and a little pick-me-up from a fellow runner or crew member helps.

Second, tied in with the need for positivity is the need to have confidence in yourself. Believing you have the ability to accomplish something is a necessity to achieving it. Yet confidence is something that is sometimes fragile when faced with a major challenge. On this race I knew I could finish more than 100 miles, but I was not sure how far after that I could go. Although I had never really done anything like that before, I did know that I was doing pretty well on this race. Yet I had no idea where I would place. A few of the other runners took notice of my pace and hours on the course and they would say to me “You are really crushing it!” or something to that effect. It’s amazing how when others recognize your effort that motivates you to keep going. It helps build up your confidence when others think that you can accomplish something.

Third, when you are with a group of people all trying their best and pushing themselves to their limits, it has a contagious impact. There was a woman name Rosie who was 71 and was just a few laps behind me who just kept going. She was probably hurting a bit and was hunched to one side as she slowly covered the course. She could have quit the race at any time, but she just kept moving.

On the last night of the race I was going into the wee hours and it seemed like there were fewer runners out on the course. But I kept pushing until I could not keep my eyes open. I went to take a short nap but really conked out and slept over five hours, which was much longer than I planned. When I awoke the sun was up and I saw many runners circumventing the course. They had apparently taken their nap earlier than me and for a shorter length. I then realized that if they were pushing that hard, I had no excuse not to push myself to the very last second. Which I did. My goal the previous day was 150 miles, but I ended up doing 160 miles. Basically, that last 10 miles was motivated by the other runners.

It is not often in today’s sometimes divisive world that you can go to a place where you know that you will be supported by all others. Even complete strangers. Where you will see people giving it their all. Where some people are attempting to do something, they have never done before.  All this is accomplished with a sense of joy in the air, even when some are suffering.

There were numerous times in this race that I thought about stopping. Yet it seemed so wrong. There was a sign on the course that said it best: “Your competition is the little voice in your head that wants you to quit.” The race was not about beating the other runners as much as it was about doing your best. Doing your best rarely involves quitting.

Maybe the most important lesson on this race, as in most ultra-marathons, is that our actions not only impact us but those around us. I am sure that many of those runners were unaware that their effort motivated me and made me push harder. This is a lesson beyond ultrarunning. Our positivity and effort can affect others. And if that is true our negativity can also affect others. Which one do you want to spread?

 

 

Lesson of the Legends – Part 2 -The Allure of the Buckle and 100 Miles

We all have goals that seem to be out of reach. But if we suspend our disbelief for a minute and let ourselves dream, we somehow believe that they are within reach.

Such is allure of the traditional buckle that is given out for running 100 miles. It seems crazy to run or even walk 100 miles, but it is possible since others have done it before. Yet as you age those traditional cutoff times loom as very large obstacles. Yet at A Race For The Ages (ARFTA) that obstacle is much smaller since you have as many hours as you are years old, so your dream seems much more reachable. But you still must accomplish it.

This is the story of two men who had never done 100 miles but wanted that buckle. They had different reasons but were both focused. Jim was 69 and from Kentucky and Tom was 75 and from North Carolina.

Right before the oldest runner Don took off there were a few of us hanging around the starting line talking to the race director and volunteers. I nonchalantly asked the veterans about a place to eat since I was not starting until tomorrow night. One of the other runners, who was also early was Jim. He was early because he mistakenly thought he was starting on Thursday, but he was starting on Friday. We all laughed. I had asked advice to the race crew about possible places to eat since I had 24 hours before I started. Jim was also interested in that answer. They suggested a few places, but I was not intrigued by any of them.

I searched online and came across a brewpub called Common John. Their menu looked intriguing and it was close to the race site. As I walked in it looked like a great place to hang out. As I walked up to the bartender to see if I sat myself or how the service worked, I saw Jim sitting at the bar.  So, I asked if I could join him. We sat and shared an early dinner and two beers. We had a great time getting to know each other over some good beer. Jim was from Kentucky and was determined to get a buckle. He was also an Army veteran. He was a few years older than me. Since neither of us knew anyone, it was great to share stories.

The next morning, I was walking the course well before my start time so I was familiar with it. I heard my name called from some cars and camps set alongside course. It was Jim. He showed me his setup, and we chatted with a few other runners from Mississippi. We decided to have lunch together at the same pub before we started our race. We had a great lunch again, although this time no beer. We had a great conversation, and he told me his experience with the VOL State run which covers 314 miles through the state of Tennessee. He did not finish that race. He had to drop out, which I believe fueled his desire for a 100-mile buckle even more.

Jim was 69 so he had a three-hour head start on me. I filmed his start of the race and sent it to him as a souvenir. He returned the favor and videotaped my start.

Jim’s strategy was to power walk the course since he had so much time to get his 100 miles. Mine was to both run and walk and sleep as little as possible to get as many miles as I could. I wanted more than 100 miles. So that meant most of the time we were separated but every time we saw each other we gave an update. The second night when I was fighting sleep deprivation and was actually weaving a bit when I was running, he told me “Ray you are all over the place.” Which I was and I soon took a nap after hitting the 100-mile mark.

I kept cheering Jim on every time we saw each other. I could hear it in his voice his excitement when he was getting closer. Even though he was in pain he was happy.  It is the excitement one gets when one is close to achieving an almost impossible goal.

Unfortunately, I did not see him get his buckle. I was napping at the time. I was pretty bummed out that I didn’t see it or Jim again. After he achieved the milestone, I knew he was going to sleep and then would drive home to Kentucky. It was weird not seeing him as I kept running. I missed him. We really hit it off.

Have you ever gotten to know someone through someone else? That is how I got to know Tom from North Carolina. He was a quiet man who was trying to do 100-miles for the first time at age 75.  His daughter Sarah was crewing him and she was just a delight. She knew almost nothing about ultra running. She was there for her dad. Yet Sarah soon was a popular person on the course. She started by making soap bubbles as the runners came by.  Later on, she got ice pops and gave them to the runners as they passed. Later she got some chalk and drew a hopscotch on the course along with some fun sayings. She said her father may do this again next year and I encouraged her to join him and just walk. She was thinking about it.

What I learned from Sarah was that her father was a runner but had never done 100 miles.  He was determined to do it. The last few years of his life had been as a caregiver for his wife, Sarah’s mother. She had suffered from Alzheimer’s and sometimes the only running he could do was running circles in his yard.

Tom was pushing himself, but he took a break to watch a college football game. He was using his 75-hours wisely.  Tom and I would wave to each other on the course.  I told Sarah to tell me when her father was on his last mile, and I would walk it with him. Which I did. Actually, the last mile and a half.

It was while I was walking with him that Tom filled in the gaps of Sarah’s version. His version was that it was very difficult emotionally to be a caregiver for an Alzheimer’s patient. A woman that he had known for almost of all of his life was not there. He said when someone has cancer the remaining time is a time to discuss a shared love. With his wife she did not want closeness or to be touched. I could tell it pained him. It was then that he said that he was doing this run to raise money for Alzheimer’s research. He had raised $10,000 and that was what was pushing him. It wasn’t the buckle but the cause. He was also very upset that the government was cutting funding for medical research. I could tell this was personal for him. I also know that working for a cause that he believed in helped motivate him to push through the pain and discomfort.

I had wondered why he ran in his yard when Sarah mentioned it but I did not ask her. Somewhere in our conversation he said he put his wife on the porch, and he could then get in his running in the yard and also keep an eye on her. He was seventy-five but had been an avid runner his whole life. He had run 5ks, 10ks, half-marathons, marathons, and even a 50k. 100 miles was the only one left and ARFTA had generous time limits, and he could do it without worrying about a cut-off time.

I could tell the race was not easy on his body. So, I was not surprised when he said that he was losing a toenail which I have done numerous times. He was in pain but determined. Then he said that he would never do this again. I must admit I was disappointed. I was hoping that he would come back again with Sarah and that she would join him. I really liked them.

When we got to the finish line for his one-hundredth mile Sarah was there to greet him and we snapped a few pictures of them together.

It is funny walking that last mile and a half with him I really got to know him. I could not stop though I had more ground to cover and continued on my race which seemed much less important than his. When I was done with my race, I texted Sarah and found his charity and made a donation.

A Race For The Ages – Lessons Learned -Part 1

When American sporting events feature “legends” it is usually to undertake some ceremonial gesture –like throwing out the first pitch of a baseball game or flipping the coin at a football game.

But at A Race For The Ages the participation of legends is far from ceremonial. It is central to the event.

A Race for the Ages is a different race than I usually run. Held in Manchester, Tennessee, it is open to runners aged 10-110. Runners ages 41 and older are permitted a number of hours equal to their age to accumulate as many miles as possible.  Those 40 years and below compete in the last 40 hours of the race. The winner is the runner with the most miles accumulated by the finish.

So, the oldest runners start the race before all the others and have the course to themselves. Usually at a race I am among the oldest in the field but at the ripe old age of 66 I was actually one of the younger runners! My bib number was 80 which meant that there were 79 runners who were older than me and only 58 or so who were younger. I laughed when one of the other runners called me “kid.” I couldn’t recall the last time that had happened.

So, I had 66 hours to see how far I could run/walk a zig-sagging mile loop.  I was joined by runners with a wealth of experience—and a lot of different stories to share.  But there were common themes in all their stories—determination, the need to push yourself and the importance of being yourself.

In this blog, and in the next two blogs, I have the pleasure of sharing the inspirational stories I watched unfold over the course of those 66 hours.

Lesson of the Legends – Be the Best You can Be

The two oldest runners in the field were a 93-year-old named Don and an 88-year-old named Karsten. They were very good ultra-runners in their heyday but now for ultras they are regulated to races like this which give them plenty of time to cover some ground. The standard cutoff time is 30 hours for most 100-mile races, though it can be higher if the terrain is very difficult. That is not something that 88- or 93-year-olds are typically capable of. Yet it was obvious that both Don and Karsten still wanted to push themselves.

It was about 1 a.m. on Sunday morning, and I was pushing myself to get my 100 miles as early as possible. So for the last few hours I had been out there with the other runners trudging through the course. By this time, I recognized most of the runners but there was one who stood out to me.  It was Karsten who, at 88, was the second oldest runner in the race. I met him at the start of the race, just before the oldest runner—Don—was about to take off. He noticed my Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim shirt and asked how long it took me to complete that run. I replied that it took me 17 hours he said he did it in six and a half. I suspected that his time was for rim-to-rim but I did not argue. Who argues with a legend?

Now, however, we were running the course, and I saw him a couple of times sitting at a park bench. Pretty much the only place you could sit and rest on the course with the exception of your own camp. I wondered if it is hard to keep going when in the past you would be closer to the lead not just pushing yourself to get what you can. Still, I was so impressed that past 1 a.m. he was still out there pushing himself to his limits. No, his participation was not ceremonial, he was competing.

Don, who was the oldest runner, was the same way. He was the first runner out, sporting a t-shirt that said “By Endurance – We Conquer.” It was a great motto for this race. Yet like Karsten he was out there running in the fierce sun and heat. Slowly but steadily moving. I always cheered him on when I passed him as did most of the other runners. I remember once when I passed him while I was running, he said “It looked like he was standing still” as I went by him.

What really impressed me about Don was that in the last minutes of the race he was still there competing. With about 30 minutes to go he did not stop but decided to do one more mile. It would be close, but he was going to push himself. He was the first runner out 93 hours ago and the last runner on the course.

Both Don and Karsten inspired all the other runners. They were not competing for victory but to be the best that they could be. That’s a lesson we should all take to heart.

Moving Forward in a Race and in Life When the Wheels Fall Off

We all have times in our lives when, despite all our preparations and effort, things fall apart. You come face-to-face with your own limitations. We confront the fact that the goal we set for ourselves may not be met.

This recently happened to me at a 12-hour race. It is almost always inevitable that in an ultra-marathon, something will go wrong. It is guaranteed that it will happen in your life. It is how we move on from those moments that define us. Here is a look at what happened.

It was an extremely hot and humid day at the SquatchySurprise 12-Hour Trail Race. I am not great running in heat. This was a hot humid day in the mid to upper eighties.  The sweat had soaked my shorts and t-shirt. I was dripping sweat, but I was not the only one. As other runners passed me, they glistened. They too had sweat-soaked shorts and tops. I thought I was doing okay.  I ran at a slightly slower pace to conserve my energy in the heat and I was careful to consume water and electrolytes. Yet as I came back from my loop after completing 30 miles, I was feeling a bit hungry but also queasy at the same time.

I plopped down in the chair that I had set up at my own personal aid station. I had a cooler full of various drinks, and a bin for additional gear to help me through the race.  On the lawn there were canopies and many other chairs and coolers, plus friends and family members of runners who would greet the runners and be their crew. Young kids were also running around playing games. It was basically a picnic with sweaty and dirty runners popping in and out.

I quickly went for a protein drink and some electrolytes. I then had some fresh fruit and some soda. I didn’t take too much of anything but I knew that I needed to stay hydrated and get some calories. I still had almost six hours left. Plenty of time to reach my goal of more than 40 miles. Then all of a suddenly my stomach revolted. I shot out of my chair and threw up a couple of times.  It shook me to my core. I berated myself for immediately drinking and eating when I felt a bit queasy coming in. I just sat there in my chair trying to regain my composure.  I looked around to see if anyone among the crowd had witnessed my low point. I didn’t see anyone staring. Then just a couple of minutes later my stomach revolted again, and I threw up a couple of times. I felt awful.

I sat in my chair contemplating my future in this run, Should I just stop now? No, I thought to myself. I haven’t even done a 50K. I glanced up across the clearing and saw a woman with a distraught look on her face. It gave me some validation that this was a rough day. I took solace that I was not the only one suffering. It wasn’t my proudest moment to be happy someone else was suffering.

I wanted to quit the race, but I would have felt like a failure. I was about ten or eleven miles from my goal of at least 40 miles. I still had plenty of time, but I was also suffering from the heat. As I sat there suffering, I knew that I had to change my approach. I took off my shirt and only wore my hydration vest. I also took my bandana and filled it with ice and wrapped it around my neck. I would take this next loop slowly and then reexamine my condition at that time. Hey, I thought to myself I have been miserable before and overcome it. Heck, I climbed out of the Grand Canyon just a few months prior and I was in bad shape then.

The first ¾ of a mile was a steep climb so I walked that part but once over that climb I began to run slowly. With no shirt and the ice around my neck I felt much better. The ice had completely melted by the time I finished my loop. I now had only six miles left to get to forty miles so I decided to go for it. I really ate very little but figured once again that I had climbed out of the Grand Canyon on an empty stomach. That was a more difficult climb. I could do it again.

On my last loop I knew that I had plenty of time to get over 40 miles. I was really beat and  somewhat surprised that I would finish 41 miles. I was so close to quitting and doubting my ability. Yet the decision to change my strategy really paid off.  Yet while I was happy with the results my body still was not happy at all.

When I got home, I was planning on eating some food and drinking a celebratory beer. However, I had no desire for food or beer. I kept drinking ginger ale with plenty of ice. My body needed to recover from the heat and my exertion. It needed rest.

It is funny. I always think that ultra races have so many life lessons about overcoming obstacles, planning, and determination. And they do. Yet in my recent race experience I hit a major obstacle, had self-doubt, and needed to figure a way to move ahead.

Well before I was an ultra-runner, I was a young man with a young family.  The position I had at work was eliminated. My reaction was pretty much the same as on the run. I sat down and felt sorry for myself for a short time then worked on a plan to move ahead professionally. Maybe all those down moments in life made me a natural born ultra-runner.

There are striking parallels between life and ultrarunning, yet there is a difference. At least for me. In life I always seemed a bit surprised and shaken when things go wrong, whether it is at work or my personal life. I am not prepared. In ultra-running I am usually not surprised when things go wrong. In fact, I try to anticipate what can go wrong and even prepare for it.

While expecting things to go wrong does not always make it easier to finish a run to its completion it does make it possible. There is one trick I have honed to get me through tough ultra marathons. I used it in this past race when I remembered my toughness in the Grand Canyon run. That is drawing strength from past successes and believing in yourself. Knowing that you had overcome a major obstacle before gives you confidence that you can do it again. That is why I like difficult challenges even at work. Once you have even a little success at a difficult chore it builds your confidence. The key word here is that the challenge needs to be difficult. You do not build confidence by doing easy things.

Not everyone is an ultra-runner. Yet when things go wrong in life, it helps to have the mindset of an ultra-runner. It’s okay to feel sorry for yourself and even berate yourself. But only for a short time. The next step is to figure out how to move forward. Think of past achievements and have confidence in yourself. We are all capable of more than we think.

Channeling Your Inner Mae West When Choosing a Run

 Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.

—Mae West

Most people do not associate Mae West with running, especially ultra running.  The famous vaudeville sex symbol and queen of the double entendre was before my time and I doubt she ever ran a mile in her entire life.  Yet I and many other ultra runners live by her well known quote above. We just replace the word “evils” with “runs” and we have our mantra.

Ultra runners by nature are restless souls. They start off by just running road races or short trail races. Then they finish a marathon and wonder what else there is? Yes, I have races that I do on a regular basis but there is something attractive about a race in a different location or a unique challenge.

So, when I look at my year of running I know that there will always be a few races I bookmark but all of a sudden, I have this urge for a tough and unique challenge. I know that I am not the only crazy runner out there which I will get to in a minute. First let me explain this year’s runs. I have two races I was determined to do. They are two totally different kinds of runs, but they fulfilled my Mae West urge.

The first was running the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim.  That came about because my wife and I were planning on seeing friends in Arizona sometime in April. I knew that Arizona has great trail races, so I began to search races in which to include in my trip. Somehow, I stumbled upon people who run the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim. Before long I was obsessed with the idea and started watching YouTube videos and reading as many articles as I could on the endeavor. 

Yet I knew that high from the Grand Canyon run would not last and I would need something else to fixate on.  So, at the same time as I was scheduling the Grand Canyon run I registered for A Race for the Ages (ARFTA[JB1] ). They couldn’t be two more different races. The Grand Canyon was a self-supported run. It had extreme climbs and descents with widely vary temperatures. (Sadly, after I had written this blog a major forest fire raged through the North Rim and this run is not possible now.)  It was completely on trails. ARFTA is a short mile loop on pavement, and you get as many hours to run it as you are old so I will have 66 hours. Most of the runners will be in their 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. There is food provided and really no elevation to speak of. I was so excited for both adventures. They would each test me in different ways. They also met the Mae West test – something different.

Now I don’t want you to think that I am the only crazy runner who does this. My friend Dave flew to England to do a race in which he ran up and down a mountain for 24 hours. More recently he entered a 48-hour race in Poland because he thought it sounded great. My friend Anthony became obsessed with running the Cocodona 250, which is a grueling 250 mile trek throughout Arizona.

Those runs make mine seem rather tame in comparison. I am limited by work obligations to certain times of the year to take time off for a run, although including them in a vacation has helped. My wife thinks it is the opposite, that I pick a run and then convince her we should go on a vacation there. Which is absolutely true.

It is really not our fault. Yes, we are attracted to these running adventures. But we are also victims of social media algorithms. The social media sites know we are the Mae Wests of running. We are helplessly lured into trying a new run on a regular basis. They show up on our feeds. YouTube videos of races we heard about vaguely but now come to life as someone else describes their running adventure.

Yet I can’t completely blame social media. We each feed each other’s addiction. I met my friend Miriam at an ultra-marathon and realized that she had authored a book about her life and running called Come What May: I Want to Run. I read it and it led me to entering A Race for the Ages.

While I am really looking forward to ARFTA and a couple of races after that there is something that is gnawing at me. I have no new races or runs planned for 2026. I am doing research on various races and thinking up interesting challenges on my own but have not settled on anything. There is an empty feeling without a new challenge out there.  I know that it is out there. I just have to find it.

It is hard to describe this restlessness about ultra running to nonrunners. Even close friends and family members do not understand our need to find a different race or run and a challenge. They think it is a crazy obsession. It is tough that the only person who I know would understand our obsession is Mae West.

 

 

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 [JB1]Ray- I don’t think you need to put this race title in boldface- you haven’t bold-faced the other titles---  I am going to “unbold” it in subsequent mentions-- you might want to do the same here.