Chapter IV, in which insanity is revealed in its full pathological grandeur
Quiet
The dawn crackled with excitement and taut energy. A few miles away, most of the 43 "official" entrants gathered in the cool and breezy atmosphere of Lloyd Hall and began their personal journeys. Many, with a wondering gleam in their step, would be looking to court the distance for the first time. Others were experienced ultra runners who knew just what they were facing. Several were just out for fun and to see what they could do. Most were alone, while a precious few were blessed with strong supporters who made the trek with them to "be there for their thing". They gathered, bringing together many hometowns, many stories, and many shades of elation and anxiety. Then, lacking race numbers or even race t-shirts that might serve to proclaim the enormity of the task, they quickly dispersed into the growing sprawl of early-morning joggers, walkers, and bikers beginning to emerge along the path. Other than the row of coolers and supplies lining the start, it was as if the race vanished into anonymity. Only the racers and their few dedicated supporters knew otherwise. This moment represented with perfect clarity the essence of ultrarunning.
Tranquility
I had agonized over my start time. On the one hand, I felt compelled to join this scene, to share a common quest and togetherness with my fellow racers. On the other hand, starting at 6 AM would mean ending at 6 AM, which I felt was unfair to my pacers, supporters, and family that might want to see the finish. After some thought, I decided to start and end at 9, but to arrive early enough to see most of the racers after their first lap, and to visit with race director Lauri. I had slept well, feeling unrushed and calm as I loaded my supplies. With reverence, I stuck with my prerace eating ritual, which has always been a half bagel with cream cheese, a banana, and juice. Then I said goodbye to Lori, the 1/3 of the family that was awake at this hour, and headed to the race.
THE RACE! It was hard to believe in this morning. Instead of my usual pre-race or pre-long run jitters, the past week I had increasingly become more accepting and matter-of-fact as the day approached. In retrospect, it was eerily parallel to the stages of grieving, where I had entered the acceptance phase and was at peace with the task at hand. I felt inordinate calm and focus, as well as a quiet confidence in the plan and the probability of success. Now, I just had to do execute, in one sense or the other.
I arrived about 7:15 to bright, cool, and dewy grounds. Lauri the RD was there. Alongside was Paula, who had most graciously volunteered to guard over the gear of all participants for the next hour and a half, as Lauri had to leave soon after. Just after, my long-time trail and race partner Renee showed up for support. As I unloaded my stuff and placed it in a convenient location, I began to realize the kindness that these two ladies were providing. Besides volunteering, Paula had also made stickers for all the supporters, proclaiming "Pete's 100 miles of insanity/April 2nd-3rd, 2011"! Not to be outdone, Renee brought a table filled with lots of goodies, including my favorite pop-tarts, M&Ms, pretzels, cereal bars, and a bunch of other food. Renee also made a sign stating "Team White's Aid Station" for my supplies. She then took off to, as I later discovered to my delight, place motivational signs around the course. These were a huge hit throughout the race, as each had a motivational quote on one side and some variant of "You can do it Pete" on the other. Paula and others later reported that many of the racers were wondering who this person with all the support was, and one even remarked that they were "pretending to be Pete for the day".
We hung out and talked to some of the runners for a time. Some of the folks were serious and focused, clearly demonstrating their expertise and determination. Others were out for a good time. One man my age, Mike, was with his two teenage daughters. They were out to see how far they could go as it sounded like a fun adventure A younger man with a Puerto Rico t-shirt had almost run one loop already and was seeing what he could do. He stated that he had "run 2 miles yesterday" (showing the true lack of structure this race has) and "I'll come back again tomorrow". His low-key, mañana spirit was infectious and strangely inspiring. Paula and I chatted for some time with the stoic wife of Joseph, who was trying to cross a century run off his bucket list. Next, they had booked flights to Pamplona so he could run with the bulls.
I began to get a bit chilled, despite wearing several layers over my race-designated custom-made t-shirt (remember, no bling in this race!) and lightweight tights, and I was also getting antsy. But soon enough, Jeff P., an enthusiastic Wissahickon trail partner, arrived as my first pacer. And so did the irrepressible John C., who had doggedly stuck to me on my hardest trail runs the last month, along with walking coach and attidude Roy, and loop 2 pacer and chief organizer Jeff L. What a great sendoff! Then, suddenly, it was 8:55. Just enough time to gather what I needed--my trusty first 2 bottles of gatorade and a cereal bar for the road, my pace chart, a quick explanation of how my schedule worked, and then we were off amid hoots and cheers from my supporters, and bewildered stares from passers-by.
Ignition
We started out going clockwise, as there was a breeze and my past experience on the 8.4 mile loop was that this direction was both a bit more sheltered and got more interesting as one proceeded. It turned out that I did each loop in this direction, and the wind that I had feared going into the race never became a factor. We zipped past the Art Museum and the Rocky statue, then settled in at 10 minute pace. Our pace seemed quick, and it soon became apparent that we were running pretty rapidly, as I was getting to my half mile marks much faster than my allotted 5 minutes. Well, that just meant more nice walking breaks for me.
Jeff and I actually mostly chatted about work, something we never do on our runs. I also scoped out landmarks, port-a-potty opportunities, and exactly where the half-mile markers were. In the latter half of the loop, we fell in briefly with an extremely nice young couple who were running the race as well. Both were from upstate NY and were experienced ultra runners, and he had run several of the big 100s. I'm always in awe of these folks who routinely run such daunting races, always with such humility and grace. Soon enough, we had looped around to the boathouses and completed lap 1 right on schedule. Amazingly, everyone was still there waiting for me. Didn't these people have anything else to do? I was very grateful for their dedication, which proved to be just the beginning...
Jeff and I actually mostly chatted about work, something we never do on our runs. I also scoped out landmarks, port-a-potty opportunities, and exactly where the half-mile markers were. In the latter half of the loop, we fell in briefly with an extremely nice young couple who were running the race as well. Both were from upstate NY and were experienced ultra runners, and he had run several of the big 100s. I'm always in awe of these folks who routinely run such daunting races, always with such humility and grace. Soon enough, we had looped around to the boathouses and completed lap 1 right on schedule. Amazingly, everyone was still there waiting for me. Didn't these people have anything else to do? I was very grateful for their dedication, which proved to be just the beginning...
I had built in some rest time between each loop, and that time was scheduled to increase with each circuit. In order to get the schedule under 24 hours, I had compressed these rests and was a bit concerned about the short nature of the first few...only 8 minutes for the first one. This actually occupied my mind a great deal early on, but it never became an issue. The first loop was a nice icebreaker, and I was in fine form for loop 2. My nutrition plan was to stick with what worked in training--12 miles of gatorade and cereal bars, then switch over to Ensure, gels, PB&J, and whatever else might be palatable. I downed my first PB&J, snapped a picture with new pacer Jeff L., and managed to post a thumbs-up status to Facebook (something I vowed throughout but quickly lapsed on).
Jeff L. was ready to go, and John T., who had been a real trooper this winter with the snow-fueled craziness that our winter trail group became, decided to tag along as well. We were speeding along pretty fast, so John turned back after a bit. Jeff had been a real godsend to my training, as he had often run with me Sundays during training, when my energy was at its lowest. He had also been instrumental in getting all the pacers on the same page, leaving no details unconsidered. Jeff had even managed to contact Art Carey, the Inquirer's longtime fitness editor, imploring him to cover the event. Alas, Art expressed interest but was otherwise occupied this day, but it was incredibly thoughtful and touching.
Jeff's prowess with organization was, somewhat comically, not translating so well to the complicated task of pacing. Due to my poor efforts to explain my convoluted schedule, it took him a while to figure out what I was up to. As it was early, beautiful, and glorious, I became heartily amused at his valiant efforts. Finally about mile 4 of the loop, it sunk in, and we enjoyed our usual chats about upcoming races--he was training for a half marathon in Indianapolis--and various sports topics. Several crew dual meets were setting up, and it became a lot of fun watching the sculls and crews progress through the day in parallel to our efforts. Indeed, the entire path was coming alive with activity. We began to do more weaving through the traffic than straight-ahead running as we headed back to Lloyd Hall. We were again on pace, and I held up 2 fingers as we headed in to greet Paula, John T., John C., Roy (why were they still here?) and loop 3 pacer Sophorn.
By this time, I'd transitioned to all water and a gel every 2 miles. While I loaded up on Ensure (350 calories of audaciously processed, electrolytic, protein-enthused, enematious, chocolatey goodness), Jeff explained the schedule to Sophorn. This became an oral tradition of sorts, as it was passed down from pacer to pacer with remarkable precision. During this break, I got to chat with a few of the racers, along with John, a young, accomplished ultrarunner from Penn State who was volunteering all day to watch over the racers' gear. John was accumulating volunteer time as a public service to get into the legendary Western States 100 (for a treat, be sure to click that last link!), which requires such community service. He and Paula ended up spending a lot of time together. After another pacer picture, I bid farewell to this tremendous support group of mine who had stayed for over three hours.
Incineration
Loop 3 was at 11 minute pace. This meant considerable walking breaks, as my step was still swift while I was running. Running into the low 20 mile range is usually a low point for me, but not today. Between the perfect temperature, the bright and beautiful scene, and good company, the miles flew by. With the help of PhillyFit, Sophorn had finished her first marathon at last November's Philadelphia Marathon, and she has real talent plus an almost insatiable enthusiasm for fitness that is leading her to ever greater heights. We found a lot to talk about, including her heritage, ways to train, very comparable musical tastes (Arcade Fire! Dengue Fever!), and a shared love of crazy running events such as this one. My prediction is that she will be the next PhillyFitter to do a 50 miler (though Steve may have something to say about that). Soon enough, the boathouses loomed again. There was a beerfest that was being held inside the houses, and we dodged the many folks that were sampling the wares. I made a mental note to come back next year when a few cold ones would be a bit more palatable.
As we finished loop 3, I noticed a few things. First, it was getting a bit warm and I was sweating a bit. It was breezy as well, so I stuck with the long-sleeve T. Second, several spots on my feet seemed to be rubbing a bit. I've had minimal blister and toenail problems in the past, but this was new territory and all on pavement as well. As a precaution, for the first time I had bodyglided my entire feet before starting. Now, I told myself to take close notice of these spots in the next loop. Third, while everyone else except my next pacer, John C., had finally left, Paula was still there! What was she doing? In asking, she indicated that she was having a great time and was hanging around for a while. She'd also gotten to know some of the runners as they came in each time, and as I had mentioned to her, she was beginning to catch on to the spirit of the ultra community.
I was continuing to feel strong and was right on schedule. John was great during this loop, run at 11:30 pace, because the math was getting tougher. John is a real athlete, having been a fast-paced road bicyclist for many years before coming out to PhillyFit with his walker wife Nancy in the last year. He also ran his first marathon at Philly and was one of a group of 6 of us who ran most of that race together. I also felt some responsibility for him, as I'd talked him into running the full marathon rather than the half distance; luckily for me, he made it look easy. John's graciousness and willingness to try anything ("sure, I'll run another 10 miles with you") is admirable. Those qualities were appreciated on this loop. I was feeling fine and chatty, so this loop also passed by quickly enough, and we were soon back. At this point, I'd finished 1/3 of the race, over 33 miles, and in less than 6 1/2 hours. It was hard to believe that I felt so great!
After a pit stop, I headed back to my "aid station", where I was in for a shock. Lori and the kids were there waiting for me! I had expected to see them only after the next loop, so this was a delightful surprise. As he had for the PhillyFit group all summer and fall, Ryan was waving one of two of his patented, double-sided motivational signs he had created special for the event. This one read "Run, Run, As Fast As You Can, You CAN Catch Me, I'm the Finish Line!" The other stated "Whew, 100 miles is a LONG way!". As always, both were decorated with a myriad of intricate other pictures, interwoven like petroglyphs, and including ants, various forms of weather, natural disasters, space objects, and the like. I was looking forward to interpreting these after the race, as they usually make sense after some study and explanation. As always, Jason was also having a great time, imploring every runner who would glance his way "Great job", "You can do it", and "Almost Have It". Unfortunately, "Almost Have It" wasn't quite appropriate yet for me, but just seeing the three of them was a real boost.
More PB&J--it was getting hard to choke these down, and I eventually gave it up and stuck with Ensure the rest of the way. Lori had very kindly brought some hot cup-o-noodles, which is one of my post-race delicacies, but I was doing fine with my usual routine and didn't want to risk anything. Not without trepidation though; both this and the many other generous offers of food were very thoughtful, and I felt not a little guilty for declining. In checking my feet, I saw some red spots and one blister beginning to form on the outside of my heel, where I'd never had any problems before. I patched this up with some moleskin, hoping it wouldn't cause more problems. Then, I loaded up with gels and water, posed for a picture with loop 5 and just-educated pacer Sherry, and was off again!
Inertia
It was now mid-afternoon, and the shadows were beginning to lengthen. In this loop, I started to cool down a bit, likely due to a combination of evaporating sweat, less energy to heat my body, and more walking. I'd noticed in my long training runs a tendency to slack off on my walking speed, so I was determined to keep up the pace now. In fact, I began to hit these walking breaks quite hard, first to see if I could get to the 1/4 mile marks before having to run again (which I soon started accomplishing), and then later to try to walk fast enough to not have to run at all (didn't get there until loop 12 despite lots of effort). In this loop, Sherry was doing a superb job of balancing discussion with prompting for the next run interval. She was an experienced marathoner with lots of life stories, and she was also going to help me coach in the 2011 PhillyFit season. We were both looking forward to this. She proved amazingly adept at switching mid-sentence to call out a time or reminder. This loop too zoomed by with no worries. As we finished up, Lori and the kids were still cheering us, along with ever-present Paula, who I began to suspect was in it for the duration, or more likely either suffering from some sort of acute anemia that prevented her from getting up, or was afraid to go home for some reason. Her son had come down to visit as well. I greeted everyone cheerfully, still somehow full of energy after 8 hours on the path.
Jeannie and Jen had arrived some time before for the next pacer session. By now, my pre-designated breaks between loops was up to 15 minutes, which was good, because I had felt a bit rushed trying to run down my memory list and get everything in order with the earlier, shorter breaks. Now, I was having trouble trying to fill the time. For some reason, I didn't want to just sit and rest, so I figured that starting early and walking slow would accomplish the same thing. Grabbing more supplies and pulling another layer on, we headed out.
I was feeling fantastic at this point. Loop 6 would be the last loop with daylight. A few days earlier, I had started obsessing that once it was dark, I wouldn't easily see the mileage markers, so I had the "brilliant" idea of placing glow sticks at each marker so I could see them coming up. This is a trick that overnight trail races use to light remote areas. As a backup, I carried a small flashlight, as did my pacers. Of course, this well-intentioned plan failed miserably: first, I forgot to buy them, so I embarrasingly had to ask Lori to do so before she came on down (which she did, what a sweetheart). Then, once it got dark, they totally didn't work, as they were too dim to see or couldn't be spotted until running past. Luckily, the path was so well lit that the mileage markers could be seen anyway. Well, it seemed brilliant at the time.
Anyway, Jen and Jeannie were a super-efficient team. Jeannie spotted the markers and relayed the run/walk transition times with military precision, while poor Jen had to place the glowsticks and then speed up to catch us. She was getting in some nice interval work! They were both very gracious, and they are a lot of fun with all of their wacky stories and imaginative ideas. After crossing over Falls Bridge, we were met on the other side, in a nice surprise, by long-time PhillyFit coach Mark and also Sherry, for whom apparently one loop hadn't been enough. We all headed back to the start, amidst lots of animated conversation about office pranks that made us all laugh and forget we were out running long distances. This really helped kill the time.
As we got back again, I was greeted with the best moment of the whole race: Ryan was standing on the path, waiting for me again full of energy, and with his arms spread wide. Incredibly, the family had stayed around for yet another loop! I had fully expected to see them part after the last circuit (I even said goodbye), as it was both getting late and was also tough on Lori. I reached out and scooped him up in a big hug--what a boost! This time, it was a real goodbye to Lori and the kids, but I felt comfort in knowing I would see them soon enough in the morning. Except for feet that clearly had some blister issues by now, I was somehow still feeling extremely strong. I hadn't even come close to bonking, and the typical leg soreness was kept at bay with a single ibuprophen. No chafing, not too hot or cold, no shin problems? My greatest fear all along was to finish the race in reasonable shape and say to myself (as I did after my first 50) "well, that really wasn't THAT bad", which to me was the same as saying "c'mon, let's try something even more crazy!"I was not so sure I wanted to really find out how my mind truly defines "THAT bad".Twilight
Halfway! This was a great milestone mentally for me. A favorite trick of mine for long runs is, once I get a ways into them, to start telling myself that I've run the remaining distance before (and, for extra mind-numbing benefit, to figure out about how many times before). Now, after over 10 hours out there, I'd gotten to a point where I could FINALLY chant this to myself, having run 50 just 4 weeks before. Things were looking good. My loop 7 pacer, Sue, was getting expert instruction from both Jeannie, in the now-sacred pacer knowledge transfer ceremony, and confident Ryan, who had quickly become the leading expert on glowsticks. We soon headed out ahead of schedule in the gathering dusk. This was an easygoing loop, both because the required pace had lessened to a very reasonable 13 minutes per mile, which meant I was now walking about half of each segment, and in the comfortable conversation.
Sue and I were the longest-running Philly Fit members and had traveled many miles together, so we had lots of memories to share and reminisce over. This kept my mind entirely at peace, distracted from any anxieties I might have otherwise developed at that point. For a while, we strained to try to glimpse the glowsticks, but they were mostly lost in the darkness. It was in this loop that time seemed either to pass more quickly, or my mind started to notice it less. The miles were drifting along, but there was no longer any anticipation or waiting for the next marker. I was no longer looking for markers with a sense of urgency; they were just coming to me as if emerging out of a fog, and I accepted them. This really made the remaining miles much easier to handle. I was just drifting through a peaceful sea of time and distance, autopiloting my way around and around.
Once again, now in the full darkness, we came soon enough on Lloyd Hall, signalling the end of another loop. As Sue's reflective vest started to sparkle in the lights, I headed off to the bathroom for what turned out to be the last time this night, only to discover that they had just closed. Improvising quickly, I managed to EDITED, just in time to see that my friends Ryan and Ashley had come down to see me! This was a great surprise and another needed boost. They couldn't believe I felt so good, and neither could I, as I was still cruising.
Saying goodbye to Sue, it was time to re-connect with Sophorn, who had come down for ANOTHER loop, along with husband Jim. Of course, Paula was there and cheerful, and she seemed to still be enjoying her time as the unofficial race patron. I bid farewell to my friends, and we started off on loop 8.
In reading many 100 miler race reports,many folks commented that negotiating the nighttime hours was a uniquely challenging aspect of these races. This seemed to be due to a combination of sleep deprivation, darkness, fatigue, and unfamiliarity with the genre. While I had intended to do some late night training runs, it never seemed to happen, so I was heading into the unknown. I had especially been warned by PhillyFitter Helen, who had run 50 miles overnight at the Philly 20in24 race last summer. Her experience was that this time of early night was most difficult, when her body was expecting to wind down and head for bed instead of continuing on. I was interested in seeing how I would react to this but also a bit nervous about what might happen. My constant gel intake included a steady dose of caffeine, which might also have some detriment over time. Amazingly, neither fear became reality--I never became sleepy or shaky to any extent.
Sophorn and Jim were the perfect remedy for the evening hours. Having paced me once before, Sophorn was right on with keeping me on track, while Jim's delightfully intelligent and wandering wit kept me amused and engaged throughout the loop. We talked more about ultras, Sophorn's interest in running a 50, their goal of running the Chicago Marathon in October, various Jim-o'phobias that he always seems to overcome by a combination of his and Sophorn's collective wills, and many random cultural observations that kept me laughing. The two of them kept me on track past all the brightly illuminated bridges and boathouses, and back again to where we had started.
Orbiting
As we made it back again, Jim and trooper Sophorn headed out for some well-deserved rest. I took a minute to sit down and assess my progress. Here I was, with almost 70 miles complete and now 2/3 of the way through. I wondered, though, how much required effort was left--50%? 75%? 90%? I still felt fantastic, except for my now blistered feet, which I had pretty much given up on caring for by now. The blisters were only an issue when I stopped, and pretty manageable even then, so I just put them out of mind and made sure I didn't stop unless I needed to. As the PB&Js were getting too laborious to eat, I gave up and stuck with only Ensure and gels for the duration, the combination of which was still keeping me from dreaded anaerobialand.
It had been a nearly ideal and most enjoyable experience so far, and I was still right on time. Even my spirits were still good! I had heard all too much about runners getting cranky and altogether nasty as they ran through the night, and several of my fellow racers appeared to be getting to this point themselves. When would this hit me? As I continued to circle the Schuylkill, would my orbits begin to wobble, decay, or disintegrate altogether? Only one way to find out: pick up my next pace group and hop to it!
Jeff L., erstwhile and indefagitable pacer organizer, was back for loop #2, along with his sage wife Marjorie and her sister Amy, who was also a marathoner, and John C., also back for another loop. Here it was almost midnight, and the groups were getting bigger instead of smaller! Jeff and Marjorie had both been PhillyFitters with myself for quite a few years, and they had also participated in several of our winter trail series. Jeff had promised that we would hear some eye-opening stories from the typically reserved Marjorie, but alas we never got around to these. Instead, there was almost constant easy chatter about many subjects. All four pacers were uncommonly engaging and curious conversationalists, so the flow of conversation was not unlike being at an informal dinner gathering. I found myself mostly a listener, perhaps because my energy was beginning to wane a bit. Possibly, it could also have been due to Jeff keeping the group a pace or two behind me, his wise strategy for subtly keeping me from too quick a pace.
Invariably, the discussion turned to food as we crossed the lovely Falls Bridge (for the 9th time) and headed into East Falls. And then it turned to hamburgers, and specifically the divine Elevation Burger. Now, normally I would be an active participant, for Elevation Burger has arguably the best burgers I've ever tasted, and it's not unheard of for me and the boys to drive 30 minutes out of our way to chow down. HOWEVER, the thought of slimy patties of greasy meat slipping through my GI tract was not really what I was wanting 70 miles in. In fact, I can say that this turned out to be the absolute low point of the race for me, no fault to my well-meaning company. Silently, with an iron will and superhuman effort, I somehow maintained my composure and managed to break through this unexpected wall of challenge and cholesterol. Mercifully, the subject quickly changed for the better, and I slowly recovered to my previous form as we glided back to Lloyd Hall.
Despite the great company, I felt that loop 9 had been the only time so far where I had struggled a bit. This got me wondering whether I was headed for a big downhill slide, or whether it was just a blip. I also recognized that we were now seriously into the night, as it was now almost 2 AM. It was hard to believe that these folks especially had given up their prime sleeping hours, where it is impossible to justify the run as an evening extension or an earlier-than-usual wakeup. As the four of them left, there was talk of grabbing a very early breakfast (again with the food!), but I had other plans.
Looking around, I realized that this PhillyFit togetherness was almost getting out of hand! Besides Jeff, Marjorie, John, and Amy, here was also loop 10 buddy Steve, raring to go despite the early hour. And also John's wife Nancy, and preparedness queen Mary as well (how long had she been here?), besides the stoic Paula, now wrapped in a sleeping bag. I was convinced by now that this constant support and companionship was the major reason why this had gone so well for me, and what was keeping me so strong.
I noticed that it was becoming cooler, or perhaps it was getting harder for me to heat my body. The temperature had dropped into the mid 40s with a mild wind, so I added a layer for the next loop, along with some gloves and a hat. My feet were still painful when I stopped but not getting worse, so I again headed out early with Steve alongside. Mary had brought some sort of battery-powered string of bright green neon lights that she gave to Steve. I wasn't sure whether the purpose was to guide the way in a Rudolph-like fashion, or to scare off dangerous characters. More likely, they would have been incapacitated with laughing fits, but Steve was game and donned the "personal lighting system".
As we headed out, I glanced at the strategically placed sign near the Art Museum that Renee had put up now almost a full day ago. These 4 signs she had placed across the course grew in meaning with every lap, as they gave me assurance that I was making progress and doing well. I started to anticipate them as I went through the last miles.
After we rounded the Art Museum and headed down MLK Drive, we came across an astonishing sight: the young ultra couple from New York. He was lying ON the path, while she dutifully stood guard over him. We stopped and asked if all was OK, and she said that he was just taking a nap. She didn't look too happy about standing there in the cold and wind, and I can't imagine doing that after racing for so long, but she insisted that they were fine. I know that some people do take quick naps during ultras, but as this was so close to the start, it seemed a bit strange. It got to be kind of entertaining thinking about all the things that I thought were way too crazy for me. This was one of them--I can't imagine ever coming near enough to such exhaustion (or perhaps nonchalance) that one would actually be able to sleep on pavement. Or to be able to do an event like this alone. I'm also amazed at folks who walk marathons or longer, something that I can't imagine myself being able to do. But then I would remember that what I was doing was not exactly in the bell curve of normal human behavior. Lots of ultra runners have remarked that they don't even mention their sport to non-runners any more because they just get a blank look. But perhaps I was trying to justify to myself that I wasn't totally crazy because it could always be worse. It was an interesting thought to occupy my mind--how is normal behavior defined for an individual, and are comparisons justified or even possible between people?
This time was most comfortable, and perhaps the best lap of all. Steve was yet another PhillyFitter who had made it through his first marathon with our group in November. He also had been the most determined and enthusiastic of our winter trail group, even reveling in some of the snow-bound adventures we encountered. It became clear through the winter that his spirit most resembled my own one-inch-from-chaos tendencies. Also an avid hockey player, his strong skating ankles were superbly qualified for even the most technical trails I trained on. As his endurance grew over the winter, he began to bound up and down the Wissahickon to the extent that I had trouble keeping up. The quest for adventure we shared, plus the approaching dawn that was refreshing my rhythms, renewed my energy back to the point of where I had been previously. I found myself again cruising energy-wise.
As we rounded Falls Bridge and took note of Renee's signs, we passed a few more of the wacky personas that the Philly night had been presenting us the last 2 laps. We had seen midnight walkers, bikers, and joggers, plus some people that just seemed 12 hours out of place. Most curious was a large group of chanting, military-clad, sandbag and nightlight-toting joggers. We saw this group several times throughout the night, first climbing the Art Museum steps, looping around the area, and finally coming off of Lemon Hill and past Lloyd Hall carrying several enormous logs! This turned out to be some sort of extreme physical event called the Goruck Challenge, and yet another opportunity to mentally log a "those people are SO crazy" event. This sort of stuff is what makes big cities great.
Once again, the loop steadily wound up and came to an end. I was talking less but still fairly energized. Now, I was beginning to really focus on the prize, as I had less than 17 miles to go. In fact, I was so focused that I again started out early, enen before Paula had a chance to snap a pre-lap picture. Steve decided that one loop at my snails pace wasn't enough, so he started out again. We headed out slowly to regain some energy and to let official loop 11 pacer Renee, who was happy to finally run with us, catch up. Soon enough, she caught us and we started out again. I'd introduced Renee to trails a few years ago and she soon became an enthusiast, having now completed two 50Ks and competing in innumerable trail races, duathlons, and triathlons. She has also consistently gotten faster, so this was literally a walk in the park for her.
Reverie
During this loop, I really began to withdraw from the constant chatter, now supplied by Steve and Renee. For a few laps, I'd been trying to keep up my walking speed and made it a game to see how little I had to run within each 1/2 mile segment. For this loop, my schedule allowed 15 minutes/mile, but I couldn't quite walk fast enough to eliminate all of the running. It became a bit ridiculous to see us walking and then suddenly bursting into a fast run for all of 15 seconds--until I got to the next marker and started walking again. I was just happy that I could still run well, and that I had the emotional strength to abide by my schedule.
My focus steadily increased during this loop, and I became less and less distracted by surrounding events--not that there were many at this hour. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it became lighter, a sign that many ultrarunners have remarked has generated renewed vigor in their minds. Strangely, so strong was my focus, I didn't really notice the breaking of the dawn until all was a rosy glow. When I finally did, it was glorious, as the often unique colors and shades of an early morning sunrise were in full display. The entire length of the river was bathed in shades of pink and orange that seemed to extend up into the air all around. This was the Art Museum loop in its finest hour.
Once again, the loop finished up in superb form. My two friends had done a great job putting up with my slow pace and antisocial tendencies. I was 92+ miles in at this point. My feet were trashed, but the rest of my body was still willing, with no other issues to speak of. Renee sensibly decided she had done enough, but Steve was again intrigued by the challenge and elected to hang around for a 3rd loop! For the last time, the sacred pace chart ritual was conducted, this time between Renee and Kristie. Maggi had also come down around 2 AM to deliver coffee and snacks, and then to join us on this ultimate lap.
Gaia
The forces were gathered: Kristie, Maggi, Steve, and myself. One more circuit around an 8.4 mile path that had alternated between friend and nemesis the last 21 hours. The early morning was brisk but utopian, with blue skies and little wind. The trail was sparsely populated with only a few motivated joggers and the ten or so racers still out on the course. Three had already finished, one of whom had completed the race before 1 AM and was probably now sleeping comfortably in his bed. The schedule could now be abandoned. All I needed to do was walk fast, and I would easily have it. I geared up for the last time, and we set off.
It's hard to relate the state I was in these last few hours. My companions seemed to be having a good time jogging or walking along, but they also seemed a bit anxious about my remoteness. By now, all of my energy was concentrated on finishing. I didn't feel overly fatigued or exhausted, but I was probably circling the wagons around my remaining energy and not allowing any negative thoughts to disrupt my focus. A few times, seeds of doubt started to contemplate sprouting, but they were met with resistance, as I had by now convinced myself of being able to finish. Though this feeling wasn't based upon anything real, it served to turn doubt into impatience. I began to count down the remaining miles, something that I constantly had done during training runs but remarkably hadn't done at all in this race up to now.
Finally, the backstretch of MLK Drive that is so devoid of landmarks it turns lonely was complete. All that was left was a long string of familiar sights, between which I intimately knew the distances. These became goals: the East Falls Dunkin Donuts, Strawberry Mansion Bridge, the St. Joe's Boathouse, the regatta grandstand.
These last few miles started to stretch out for me, like some sort of a distance/time distortion. I wasn't quite searching for the mile markers, but I also started to wonder where they were and why I hadn't gotten to a particular one yet. But soon enough, the Girard Point Bridge and its magnificent arches came into view, signifying the one mile-to-go mark. Onward we strode, through the bridge, then painfully down the slight hill alongside the rock tunnel , carved long ago to accommodate travelers on Kelly Drive. Then it was what seemed like an eternal stretch until I finally glimpsed the 3/4 mile marker. Never before had 1/4 mile been so long. This otherwise innocuous mark was of supreme significance: it marked the 100 mile point, as the race itself was 100.8 miles. I shouted out "100 MILES", shocking my crew, who had likely concluded that I had succumbed to some sort of zombie-like state that they would eventually have to revive me from.
From this point, in order to honor the distance, I decided I would need to give the last stretch my utmost effort. This whole event had been a negotiation, where I needed to cooperate with the path to find a mutually agreeable way to achieve my goal. Or maybe it was some need to honor the dying, like the prayer that some Native Americans recite after killing prey. Whatever the reason, I immediately regretted the decision to start running fast and wondered whether my exhausted body could sustain the effort. Only now did I begin to realize how tired I was. But after a minute or two, I managed to recover and regain a decent pace. I looked ahead to each boathouse to mark their ends as quick goals--one down! Two! How many more are there? And then it didn't matter, as Lori and the kids were walking toward me with big smiles. I grabbed Jason's stroller, and the act provided me with all I needed. Turning him around, we together sprinted past the last boathouses, up past Lloyd Hall, and across the finish line. It was done.
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
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