"Why does this idiot keep running ultramarathons? Because it feels so good... when I stop!"
Yeah, at times, doing another ultra seems about as dumb as hitting myself in the head with a hammer over and over.
However, it's not my doubts about my own sanity, or the tired feet, or the quad cramps that stick in my head -- it's the brief glimpses of goodness that made me smile along the way...
... the mass of runners surging from the starting line at 7 am, heading uphill through the quaint downtown of Boonsboro, as the barbers and their customers watch the early morning commotion through the front picture windows of the barber shop...
... fast racers who blast up the first hill with more zip than I can muster on a downhill, running a 50 miler at a pace that would be all out for me on a half-marathon...
... the sound of footsteps crunching in the leaves covering the Appalachian Trail, with the ever-present backdrop of orange, yellow, red, and green, brilliant (and unusually late) fall colors, completing the scene...
... my smiling wife, waiting for me with extra shoes, socks, gatorade, and gels at just the right places, giving me a kiss if I needed nothing else...
... streakers -- not naked "streakers" like the fad back in the 70s, but runners with an unbroken a streak of races -- folks doing their 15th or 25 straight JFK, defying age by continuing even into their 60s and 70s, somehow without missing a year due to sickness, a car breaking down on the way, or bad weather...
... middle-aged joggers being met by their families at aid stations along the C&O Canal towpath, children cheering and holding hand-painted signs of encouragement for Mom or Dad...
... hikers who started at 5 am and are speed-walking steadily along the tow path, hoping to finish before the course sweeper picks them up at 7 pm...
... a father-and-son duo deep in conversation as they run, sharing the experience of completing an endurance event together...
... the husband and wife finishing this race together, having paced themselves all day to leave enough in the tank for a marathon the next day with a first-time marathon friend...
... enthusiastic crowds lining the last 100 yards of the route, with high-fives, cheers, and shouted words of encouragement for weary runners as they sprint, walk, jog, or are helped on friends' shoulders across the finish line.
November 17, 2007 was the 45th running of the John F. Kennedy 50 mile race, and my second finish of this race. The JFK is, in several ways, a run with history. The run is inspired by a fitness challenge that President Kennedy issued to military leaders and began as a small race back in 1963. It is held in western Maryland near the site of the Civil War's bloody Battle of Antietam. It starts in the small town of Boonsboro and runs uphill to the Appalachian Trail, taking the rolling and rocky trail until it descends to the edge of the Potomac River at the village of Weverton, the 15 mile mark of the race. From there, the race follows the historic, but pancake flat, towpath of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal for slightly longer than marathon distance -- a stretch the fills some with boredom and dread of the regular mile markers. The last 8-plus miles of the race are on local roadways that follow gently rolling terrain through farmland and small settlements, coming into town the town of Williamsport with twists and turns and over- and underpasses, finally finishing in front of the middle school.
Last year, I ran JFK as my first 50 miler. Simply finishing that race was my goal, and doing so successfully was a real milestone for me. This year, I ran it a little faster (10:12 vs. 10:23) and made it to the end without experiencing the same kind of crash of energy and motivation that hit me around mile 30 last year. However, despite this, I ran with the wistful feeling that this year's race would have a hard time measuring up to last year's -- there is only one "first time". That made this year's run an interesting opportunity to ponder the nature of setting one's own expectations and how to measure success. And, let's face it, with 10-plus hours of running, there is no shortage of time to ponder such things.
As usual when I run one of these races, I had a goal. This year, it was to break the 10 hour mark. This isn't much of a challenge for a three-hour marathoner, but for a Clydesdale-class runner like me, it is a big goal. I also, as usual, had a plan -- as racing speed doesn't come naturally to me, I try to make up for some of that deficit in preparation. I had trained hard, and was probably in the best running shape I have been in my life. I had worked out how much fluid, food, and electrolytes I would take at regular intervals during the day. I had a pace chart with goal times for each checkpoint.
And, all of this preparation made for a really good day. I was at or slightly ahead of my goal times throughout most of the day. The Appalachian Trail section was fun, especially the chance to blast down rocky downhills and dance around runners less comfortable with the rocks. However, I actually like running the flat tow path, too -- it is unchanging enough that I get into a semi-meditative "zone" and can keep a relatively consistent pace. Toward the end of the towpath (around miles 34-38), I slowed slightly and got a few minutes behind my plan -- when I saw Jennifer at the Mondell aid (38 miles), I told her the only way I would break 10 hours would be with with plenty of caffeine, aleve, and adrenaline. However, in the last stretch of towpath, I felt decent and was fortunate to have company to keep me distracted (thanks Eva!). By the end of the towpath (mile 41.9) , I had made up the time deficit and was back on track.Coming off of the towpath is a steep little climb, marking the start of the road section (miles 42-50). After power-walking up the hill, I went to run and -- bam! --my legs locked up, bringing me to a complete stop. The lower parts of of my quads just above the knee had begun wild spasms, turning them into quivering knots. I'd try to stretch them but couldn't really -- if I bent my leg too far, my hamstrings would start to spasm. So, I began a walk that looked like something John Cleese would do in the Monty Python "Ministry of Silly Walks" sketch (video at link)... walking along at a squat, trying to kick my legs straight with each step, somehow simultaneously stretching my quads without offending my hamstrings too much. It was ridiculous. Silly, really.
My brain went through new calculations... if I have to walk the rest of the way, it would take me two-and-a half hours to finish... phew, not good, but regardless, I resolve that I'll finish by hook or crook. Why am I having this problem, I wondered? Some more calculations... thinking about fluids, it became clear to me I probably didn't drink enough... and, my decision to take one electrolyte capsule every two hours, rather than every hour, may also have left me short of salt. So, I took another Succeed capsule and drank more than half a bottle of water, continuing my Cleesian walk along the edge of the road.
And, within a few minutes, the knots in my thighs began to loosen. I began a jog and felt OK -- my quads were still cramping, but not unbearably bothersome. If I sped my pace too much, the quads would lock up -- and, interestingly, if I slowed to a walk, they would also cramp. So, I moved along at a steady 12:30-paced jog, whether on the uphills, downhills, or flats. I leap-frogged a number of folks who were walking the uphills and running faster than me on the downhills.
The road section provides plenty of interesting things and people to distract from thoughts of fatigue or pain, a wonderful thing after so many miles of running...
... the local welcoming party, a father and his 10 year-old son holding misspelled signs telling JFK runners to get off their roads and go home, greeting me and a trio of Canadian runners with unfriendly comments...
... a nice guy from Dayton, OH (Mike Allen of the Dirt Dawgs), telling me about Dayton's history and the 1913 flood that is responsible for the greenspace that makes it a great city for trailrunning...
... the hamlet of Downsville, with enthusiastic, cheering crowds along the streets, giving encouragement where the runners probably need it most...
... TrailDawg Laurie Reinhart saying hello and passing, looking strong with only a couple of miles left...
... a woman on horse-back in English riding gear, taking a break from her horse training to cheer the runners (and remarking I was probably the fiftieth runner to ask to borrow her horse).
As the run entered Williamsport -- the last mile -- the folks doing traffic control gave another round of encouragement. One complimented me for having a smile on my face so late in the race. It's not a smile, I joked with her -- it's a grimace! I could hear the announcers ahead and soon saw the crowds and the finish line clock. Jennifer and other friends at the finish cheered as I crossed the line at 10 hours, 11 minutes, and 50 seconds.
A number of friends/fellow TrailDawgs/locals had already finished, and others finished not long after me. Angus Repper was top Dawg at 7:41:35. Dave Bursler knocked out another fast JFK in 8:15. Todd Pechar finished about an hour ahead of me, 9:12, as did Margie Hughes, in 9:18. With her strong finish, Laurie Reinhart crossed the line at 10:09. Soon after me were Scott Hodukavich (10:59), Carl Camp (11:39), Debbee and John Straub (11:42), and Tom Stack (12:28). And, Hunt Bartine managed to do more than 40 miles.
It is hard to not enjoy JFK. It is a truly grand event, steeped in history, fun, and well organized. Among the 1079 finishers are a wide diversity of athletic abilities, ages, and ultrarunning experience -- people-watching alone is a reason to see it. What have I learned from this day? First of all, to be grateful for the health to take on a challenge like this. Secondly, to keep things in perspective. Toward the end of the race, and at the finish, I was a little bummed about not making my sub-10-hour race goal. But (with some reminders from Jennifer), I quickly put it all in the appropriate perspective: just being able to finish this race is a significant achievement... compared to a year ago, I improved my time... and compared to where I was four years ago, unable to run a mile -- well, thankfully my running habit has me in a very different place now.
Yes, it really does feel so good to stop -- but as much for the satisfaction of the accomplishment as for the chance to rest. I plan to be back at JFK again next year.
No comments:
Post a Comment