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On witnessing greatness

Sunday, April 8, 2012

The Umstead 100 consists of eight 12.5-mile loops through Umstead State Park, near Raleigh, N.C.

“Would you rather play naked Twister with Dick Cheney, or punch a baby in the face?”

This is the stuff great pacer-runner conversations are made of.

Toni and I were just starting loop 7 of the Umstead 100 miler. She was 75 miles in, with 25 left to go.

It was just after midnight, and I’d already paced her through one 12.5-mile loop. We’d spent the previous loop catching up on how her race had gone up to that point, assessing how she was feeling, and going over what needed to happen to get her across the finish line under 24 hours.

She had about nine hours to cover 37.5 miles at the start of loop 6. That’s a totally reasonable proposition for an ultrarunner if that were the task in and of itself. But with 62.5 miles already in the books, it’s a different story.

Fifteen hours into a run, already sore as hell, the sun long down, the rain still threatening a return, and a tough night ahead. It’s enough to leave you feeling like the last Cheerio in the bowl, looking for someone else to cling to.

You know you’ll make it if you’ve got someone else to float with. My job that night was to be a Cheerio. One that could help bring home a sub-24 finish.

(Continued)

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The HAT Run and what happened after

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Nearly 500 runners lined up across a field for the Braveheart-style mob start of the HAT Run 50K.

In the four years that I’ve been running ultramarathons, there is only one race that I’ve managed to fit into my ever-expanding calendar year after year: The HAT Run 50K.

I’d be hard pressed to pick a single race as my all-time favorite, but the HAT Run would definitely be in my Top 5.

There’s no one thing that makes it an obvious choice, but the combination of a lot of little things make it a race that I eagerly anticipate each spring. I love the familial vibe, the Braveheart-style mob start, the cool finisher swag, the always-freezing creek crossings, the combination of short-but-steep hills and runnable field sections that caters to my preferred running style. All of the above, really.

This fourth running of HAT was particularly special because it fell on a noteworthy day — my friend Sara’s birthday. (It also gave us the chance to belatedly celebrate Tom’s birthday, which had passed earlier in the month, on a weekend when he was out of town.)

This year, it was a Birthday HAT Run and we decided to do it in style.

Chocolate cake, pink champagne cupcakes, champagne to drink out of red Solo keg cups and, of course, birthday hats for everyone.

Oh, and there was this 31-mile race beforehand, too.

(Continued)

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Racing against the cutoffs

Monday, March 19, 2012

What if I couldn’t run anymore?

God, I don’t know what I’d do.

A little over five and a half years ago, I felt the itch to go run during an otherwise lazy day watching the waves on Cape Cod.

Those first couple miles hurt like hell, as I recall. And when I got done, I wanted more.

More time, more miles, more of that feeling you only get when you’re out on the ragged edge — that gray and scary area between what you thought were your limits and the discovery beyond.

Back then, two miles was the outer edge of what I thought I was capable of doing. Now, anything less than four or five miles feels like a waste of time. Like, why bother lacing up the running shoes for something so short?

But a few seemingly unrelated incidents this week conspired to remind me that every mile matters. That every second you spend pursuing the passion that in so many ways defines your life is meaningful in the moment.

(Continued)

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This is me breathing

Thursday, March 1, 2012

There’s this great scene toward the end of “Grosse Pointe Blank” where John Cusack’s character, a professional hitman who’s returned home for his high school reunion, is getting ready for the Big Night.

“This is me breathing,” he says as he slides a magazine into his pistol before heading out the door. It’s a simple action, but in that detail you realize that this is the moment when he feels most at home, most comfortable in his own skin, doing what he does best.

Maybe it was the fact that the music that accompanies that scene – Joe Strummer’s “War Cry” – was in rotation on my iPod at the time, or maybe it was something more. But regardless, my PR-crushing run at the Hashawha Hills Trail Run 50K made me think of that scene, as the run felt as natural as anything I’ve ever done.

This is me breathing.

(Continued)

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Blasting through the noise

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Uwharrie Mountain Run is a tough race in the best of situations.

It’s 40 miles of rugged single-track trail in North Carolina’s Uwharrie Mountains, the kind of race that veterans say “runs like a 50.” Rolling hills, stream crossings, roots, rocks – a little bit of everything.

Add in the fact that it falls in the first weekend of February, making it one of the first major East Coast races of the year, and Uwharrie can be a tough day.

Especially if you haven’t run more than 25 miles a week in the last two months.

Unlike the last couple winter seasons, I decided to play it smarter this year and ease back considerably for a month or two, to give myself a chance to heal up after a huge 2011. I didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of 2009 and 2010, both years that ended in injuries worthy of a few months in physical therapy.

So after the Magnus Gluteus Maximus 50K in mid-December, I backed off. I knew Uwharrie would be coming up fast, but decided to trust that the base fitness level I’d built up over the course of training for two 100-milers in 2011 would see me through.

It’s only 40 miles in the mountains. What could go wrong?
(Continued)

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The Ultrarunning Index, 2011

Saturday, December 31, 2011

By the numbers…

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Finding roots on the trail

Sunday, December 25, 2011

The core members of our weekend running group gathered in December for our first-ever holiday party and spent the evening geeking out about running.

As I write this, I’m sitting in the living room of my parents’ house in the Chicago suburbs. Home.

There was a time, not too long ago, when all I could think about was moving back to the city where I grew up. No place on Earth feels quite like Chicago and if you were lucky enough to grow up there but made the choice to leave, part of you always regrets it.

And yet after a decade of living in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., I find it hard to imagine leaving.

(Continued)

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Stone Mill: In Which He Grabs the Unexpected by the Throat

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Crossing a creek early in the Stone Mill 50-miler - and not thinking about the distance. (Photo by Bobby Gill)

In the received-wisdom world of ultramarathons, one of the first lessons I learned was to never think about the distance.

On Kevin Sayers’ amazingly comprehensive digital trove of ultra knowledge, UltRunR, one of the best pieces of advice for ultra newbies comes courtesy of ultrarunning expert Karl King:

Don’t let the distance scare you; run from aid station to aid station and the distance will take care of itself.

That tactic has worked just fine in each of the 27 ultras I’ve run since 2008, save one: the Stone Mill 50. Unfortunately, running from aid station to aid station doesn’t work when you have no idea when to expect the next opportunity to rest, refit and refuel.

Instead, those reliable benchmarks become just another aspect to wonder about and worry over. In a sport where the variables are legion and each can individually determine whether your day goes all to hell in a hurry, it’s how you deal with them that matters.

And when I saw my GPS watch turn 20 miles with still no aid station in sight, I knew something was amiss. By mile 20, I should’ve reached the Pennyfield Lock aid station on the C&O Canal, but it wasn’t there.

Hmm. The beginning of questions. Of worry.

Was my GPS unit wildly and unusually inaccurate?

Was the course longer than advertised?

Or had the aid station simply shifted position, as if moved by an occult hand?

Read on, dear friends…

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A salute to those who sit and wait

Monday, November 14, 2011

Sooner or later, many ultrarunners decide it’s time to give something back to the sport.

The most dedicated – or those who are the biggest gluttons for punishment, at least – take on the role of race director for an established event, or start a new one themselves.

But short of staging a race, giving back most often takes the form of crewing, pacing or volunteering. Often it’s to fulfill a volunteering requirement for an upcoming race or return the favor for someone who did the same for you at an earlier race, but other times it’s simply to be part of an event and see friends and acquaintances without having to lace up and run.

Those of us in the VHTRC might feel the urge to contribute more keenly than most, as it seems that every few weeks there’s yet another informal ultra-distance club run available as a free-to-all event completely supported by club money and the hard work of volunteers willing to give up their time and trek out to the boonies to make sure that a few dozen runners can have an awesome day on the trails.

Regardless of whether you volunteer, crew or pace, you develop a new appreciation for the level of effort involved in helping a group of crazies run some absurd distance for fun. And you’ll come to love the sport even more.

(Continued)

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Super Grover, Freedom and the Halloweeny Frostbite Run

Monday, October 31, 2011

Gathland State Park, near Rohrersville, Md., is the site of the War Correspondents Memorial Arch. Among the engravings on the arch are the words "Speed" and "Heed" - appropriate to the day. (Photo by Bobby Gill)

Apparently the price of dressing as Freedom for Halloween is a mild case of frostbite.

A freak October storm was expected to deliver freezing rain and up to 6 inches of snow to the region, but that didn’t stop a few dozen local ultra crazies from turning out in costume Oct. 29 for the Halloweeny Fat Ass Ultra at Spookhill.

In its first running last year, Halloweeny was an instant hit, bringing together some of the best trails around Harpers Ferry, W. Va., including the Appalachian Trail, the C&O Canal towpath and the Maryland Heights Trail, for a beautiful fall 50K. We weren’t going to let a little foul weather stop the show this time around.

With the Marine Corps Marathon on the schedule for the same weekend, only a handful of my usual running mates came out for Halloweeny, but we proved that great minds think alike.

While I’d secretly been assembling a “Freedom” costume (as in “why do you hate freedom?”), Jen and Beth sought Toni’s advice for their outfits. Toni’s suggestion: Dress as “Freedom runners.” Great minds indeed.

Denise, meanwhile, dressed as a cat – long, fuzzy tail and all. And Tom had the best costume of the day – a full-size, bright blue Super Grover outfit, complete with helmet and cape.

The pieces of my costume included American flag running shorts, star-spangled gaiters and arm sleeves, and an American flag-emblazoned do-rag. Not the warmest gear for 30-plus miles in freezing rain and snow, so I added a vest over my bright red T-shirt and stuffed a spare water-resistant jacket and second pair of gloves into my pack as a just-in-case.

When the snow really started coming down, that spare jacket turned out to be one of the things that saved the day.

Read on, dear friends…

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