Lean Horse 100 Mile Ultra, A Race Report by David Fielder

David Fielder

Why do you run Ultra-marathons?” I asked Bobby, a 62 year old veteran Ultra runner whose goal is to run one hundred - 100 mile marathons. He answers, 

“Well, I know that I won’t sleep tonight and tomorrow, I will step on to the trail and get hit by a Mac truck.”

“That’s a lot to entice one into doing it,” I reply sardonically.

Tomorrow I will get hit by a Mac truck.         

But the question is in my mind as I get ready for the Lean Horse Ultra-marathon in Hot Springs, South Dakota. I had run it before and remember the hell that it was. My goal this time is to stay strong on the hardest part of the course, Argyle Road – a twisting steep, gravel road that goes on for 12 miles. The problem is where they place those miles – at the end of marathon from mile 84 to 96. The previous year, I had to walk them and it took hours and hours (in fact, combined with the last four miles of the course in Hot Springs itself, it took 6 and half hours to do 16 miles!). I promised myself that I would never again allow that to happen.

The additional problem of this relatively easy Ultra (considered easy because it is run on what was once a railway bed, the Mickelson Trail that winds itself for over 100 miles through the Black Hills of South Dakota; making the elevation climb never more than 3% at a time) is that it is hot but the night can be very cold. It got hot quickly this year with temperatures peaking at 36 degree Celsius (96.8 Fahrenheit). Unfortunately the night, although cooler, never really got comfortable for running.

As the heat came on, one develops strategies to run 100 miles. The point at which to start is to visit with the other runners as you begin (after all you’ll be with some of them for at least 24 hours … course officials give you a 30 hour cut off time). Ultra runners form a unique subculture in the world of running for they aren’t as competitive with one another as shorter distances promote (certainly there is competition, but that isn’t the first goal). Ultra runners really do care that the other person makes the distance and, perhaps, that they will endure together such an arduous task - creates a bond. It seems that Ultra runners really do have personal goals that keep them motivated. 

Unlike marathons where there are spectators to encourage one onward, the world of the Ultra runner is sparsely populated with volunteers and a few friends or family to do the encouragement. The goal for the Ultra runner seems to be endurance. These runners chat endlessly as they run along and listening to their stories can take one’s mind off of the trail and off of the heat.

         

A second strategy, like life itself, seems to be to break up the course into manageable units. One can’t imagine running 100 miles, but one can set as a goal to get to the next aid station 6 or 7 miles away. Lean Horse has a number of aids stations that are extremely well maintained making this course easier to run. In some Ultra’s, one must almost be self-sustaining. Not so with the Lean Horse Ultra - for volunteers so graciously get you anything you need. As the day proceeded, I noticed that I not only broke up the distance but also the hours of the day. 

There was the morning of first light, the noon of heat, the afternoon of descending into Hill City, the evening of diminishing light and the mental preparation to pick up and change into what I’d need for the night run (clean shirt, put away sun glasses etc.; should I change my shoes …), and then the dark and headlamps, the moonlight that casts itself on the trail making it possible to run without headlamps for extended periods, and finally the emerging light of morning. Each of these periods made the trail shift and turn with new interest.

         

After having visited, grazed at aid stations (peanuts, grilled cheese sandwiches, fluids – Pepsi, this year because they are the sponsor, not Coke), being surprised by the appearance of my running partner (we had agreed to run at. our own pace … little realizing we run at almost the same pace, except not always at the same time) and then running with her for over ten miles until she felt sick and told me to go a try to get under 24 hours, I eventually reached the reason I was in Lean Horse Ultra – Argyle Road. It was dark as I went into the Argyle Loop aid station determined to only get some fluids and head out. I inquired how it was possible, “to have such a hospital aid station at the beginning of such an inhospitable territory?” I asked them to wish me well; they did and directed me to the beginning of Argyle Road.

If I had any doubts as to why people run Ultras, they were soon resolved as I began. First I counted how many hills there were but since they were so long, I started to lose count. It was my goal to run strong and that’s exactly what I was doing. In the moonlight casting itself across the road, I could see my shadow racing down the hills. There is a significant decrease of over 1000 feet in elevation. Previously, that elevation had always made the problem of running worse. One tends to resist moving quickly when pain shoots through blisters, cramps, spent quads, or aching feet. The body tightens and that makes the muscles ache even more. More time is spent on the large stones that make up the gravel for feet don’t lift quickly and the discomfort becomes excruciating. I had been forced to walk before. This time, I had no sense of that. Realizing that I could possibly complete the run in under 24 hours; but more realizing that it was fun to run down the hills as quickly as I could (like a little boy set free) – I found a strength in myself that I never knew I had. Not feeling tired, but excited – running was fun.

I ran Argyle stronger than I’ve ever run it before. I got into the Campground just off of the Argyle and had only the run through town to complete. I still had an hour and half … I knew I’d make it under 24 hours (there is a special buckle for that honour … there were 17 of us to do it). I ran strong on Argyle and achieved my goal … that I could get the elusive 24 hour prize was a bonus. I got lost coming into town having never paid attention to where to go for there was always someone else to follow. I came in just over 23 hours (23:09) and didn’t feel like dying (at least not right away). Then the real pleasure happened, when I saw my running partner come in some 20 minutes later. It had been a good day for her as well. She won the first woman to complete the distance (seems she got over her feeling sick and got her second wind … or possibly third). It was a personal best for her and me.

         

I think I get why people run the Ultra … I think I even understand what Bobby meant by the Mac truck. There are so few opportunities for us, as humans, to prove to ourselves that we can endure. Ultra Running is one way we leave the comfort of our lives, figuratively stepping into the path of the Mac truck so to speak, to discover that we have strength we never knew we had. Frankly, I don’t need a belt buckle but the reward for having set a goal and the achievement of finding strength in myself is something of which to be proud. I’d wear that. 

It's a good day to be alive.

By David Fielder

Running California Coast

It's a good day to be alive

Soft Rain

I'm singing in the rain

Just singing in the rain

What a glorious feeling

I'm happy again

Gene Kelly, Singing in the Rain

I run six glorious miles with a friend through early morning soft rain.  The talk is easy and flows softly; soft and inviting, engaging and smart. The miles pass effortlessly, softly as if time had ceased.  I don't want it to end; this run, this friend, this rain, this time. A blink and it is over and yet the memory of this run lingers.  Cherished.

Talk is easy when we run. Truth pours as miles pass and pass and pass.  It's the safeness of the run that builds trust.  Trust to speak with openness knowing we will not judge or be judged.  We don't make eye contact as we run. We run forward towards a common goal and we talk, yet never do the eyes meet... as though we are are in conversation with our souls.

The Irish call it a soft rain, but it's not a rain at all. It's more a state of mind than a rain. It's a mist that blurs time and miles and space.  It's a mist that softens the moment and opens the mind to talk. It's a mist that bridges trust and friendship and creates cherished moments. A mist that sculpts memories of that feel.

I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain.

Oh my goodness, all days are good days to be alive and yet some are so much better than others.

Mike

How do you do it?

You learn to tie a tie by tying a tie. You learn to run by running.

I tend to keep a low running profile with non-running folks. They just don't seem to understand that it's perfectly normal to run 18 miles at 6AM on a Sunday morning through humidex values in the +30 degree range (well, perhaps it's not perfectly normal, but it's good enough for the peeps I hang with).  I try to keep a low profile but my reputation as a runner, such as it is, is out and about.  When the conversation of running comes up in social situations someone invariably says...

Mike's a runner. He runs marathons you know.

I cringe. I know it's coming... the bait... the dreaded rhetorical question.

I couldn't run around the block without puking...how do you do it?

Now, it's taken me a few years to realize that this is a rhetorical question.  They really don't want to know how I do it.

They actually could not care less how I do it. 

Sometimes I'll say playfully, Now don't get me started...

... and then, fully baited, thinking they really want to know how I do it...

... I'll naively meander into explaining my training regime, the miles, the loneliness, the early nights and even earlier mornings, the dehydration, the advantages of speed work, the value of hills, the glycemic index, how to maintain protein balance as a vegetarian, the energy of the start line, the pureness of the finish line, and on and on.  And then I notice the nervous glances towards the other side of the room and the glazed eyes and I realize, drat, I've been baited...

AGAIN!

Nope, they really don't want to hear any of this.  When they ask "How do you do it?".

They're really saying, Man, your freaking crazy!

And that may be so, but at least I have a passion, and let's face it, we're all crazy in our own way.

Now when they ask...

I couldn't run around the block without puking. How do you do it?

I reply

There was a time when I couldn't run around the block either. But after a while the puking stopped and my heart rate levelled out and my breathing slowed, I dropped 20 pounds, and I started to feel pretty damn good about myself.  Next thing you know, I'm signed up for a half-marathon, then a full! Come for a run with me and we'll talk more.

If they're really interested they'll ask more questions and perhaps even take me up on a short run.  I'll gladly talk for hours about running if someone is genuinely interested but I've become wary of the bait.

If you're interested in how I do it... how I train for the Queen City Marathon on September 8, here's my nine week schedule.  Click to super-size. Come join me.

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

     

      

Share The Trails

While running on a single track trail this morning a cyclist approached from behind. He was travelling at a good pace and he gave no warning as he zoomed by on my left side nearly clipping me. Truth be known, his disregard for my safety got me angry.  It also got me thinking... thinking about how much it would hurt to be hit from behind by a rogue cyclist! Thinking about the degree of fear we feel as we are passed without warning is directly proportional to the speed and clearance of the person passing us.  

Near the end of the run, my negativity cleared and I realized that to slag cyclists would be toxic and not fair.  Many cyclists practice good trail etiquette by slowing down and ringing a bell before they pass a pedestrian.  After all, I have three bikes and I enjoy cycling, but my passion is running, so it is from this perspective from which I speak.  

I've been running and cycling on city trails for much of my life and I've learned a thing or two. I've made many errors in judgement, both as a runner and as a cyclist. I've had several near misses, and I am ashamed of some of my actions, but I have learned from my mistakes, and I believe I now practice good trail etiquette. Indulge me as I share my vision of trail etiquette. These are my working assumptions; whether or not they are valid is for you to determine.  

Working Assumptions of Good Trail Etiquette

• We all have the right to use trails.
• We are respectful of one another.
• We yield to those more vulnerable.
• We give warning as we pass. 
• We are mindful of our speed.
• We run, walk, and cycle on the right and pass on the left.
• We don't clog the trail by riding, running, or walking in a pack
• We understand that if we use headphones we are hyper-aware of our surroundings.
• We slow down, we ring a bell, and we give a 1 metre berth when passing on a bicycle.
• We say "pass left" while - as a runner- we pass walkers or slower runners.

And for the visual learners among us, here's a flow chart of what I think  trail etiquette should look like. It's based entirely on speed vs vulnerability.  Simply, the faster you travel (typically bicycles) the greater the risk there is for a collision. I know many will disagree and that's entirely your right, however, if you don't agree with my vision of trail etiquette, what is yours?

Cyclists yield to all below.

Runners yield to all below.

Walkers yield to all below.

People in wheelchairs have right of way over all the above.

We all look out for children and give them a wide berth.

Equally, we all look out for the elderly and give them a smile and a nod as we pass slowly.

Get out there and enjoy the trails!  Be safe.  Run on the right, pass on the left.

It's a good day to be alive. 

Mike

Who is Sylvia Ruegger and why we should care?

I know what I did to get that time. Don’t take it away. Don’t take it away.
Sylvia Ruegger

Sylvia Ruegger, Los Angeles Olympic Games 1984, Marathon Event

In other countries Sylvia Ruegger would be an iconic figure, but here in Canada she's virtually an unknown.  That's a pity.  We really should care more for our iconic figures. Who is Sylvia Ruegger and why should we care?  

Ruegger is a retired Olympic runner who holds the Canadian women's fastest marathon record with a time of 2:28:36 set in 1985 in Houston, Texas. Twenty-eight years later her record is still intact although Lannie Marchant and Krista DuChene are nipping at her heals. In 1984 Ruegger at age 23 (the second youngest runner) placed 8th out of a field of 50 women in the first ever Women's Olympic Marathon held in Los Angeles with a time of 2:29:09 (which coincidently is still faster than Lannie and Krista by about 2 minutes).  Her record is our record and this should make us proud. 

Are we proud? Do we care?

We should care because there is a good chance that Ruegger will be stripped of this record because some believe it was testosterone enhanced. Testosterone enhanced? What the heck.... is there a pee test for that? What does that even mean?

The International Track and Field committee say she had an advantage by running on a course with men. Incredibly (I can't make this stuff up) the International Track and Field Committee believe that by running with men she benefited by having male pacers. This new ruling also applies to Paula Radcliffe (at 2:15:25 Paula is the fastest women's marathoner on the planet) and all other women that have competed on a course with men. The current practice is to have women start 45 minutes before men.

In Sylvia's words:

Go after the dopers. There’s assisted, right. We did it clean. We did it on hard work and sacrifice. If one of those guys wants to come and look at all my journals of what I did, the price I paid to run that time, it was not because there was a guy running in the race, it was because I ran 200 kilometres a week and gave up everything else 

I ran 26.2 miles in 2:28 and I hurt doing it. And I didn’t do it because I was ‘helped’ by anyone. Like c’mon. There was no guy around me. Take a look at the footage. Even if there are guys around you, you still have to take every step on your own. You have to pull on that personal resolve, that mental strength, that fortitude, all of those hours you put in training.”

Ted's Run for Literacy race committee received an email from Sylvia the other day in which she explained how her mother helped her train early mornings before the sun rose. Sylvia grew up in the country where there were no street lights.  Her mother believed in her daughter and recognized the deep passion she had for running. She patiently drove the family car behind Sylvia, lighting the way for her daughter, lovingly pointing her in the right direction, as she trained those lonely 200 kilometres a week for a record that's on the brink of becoming obsolete.  

Sylvia is currently the National Director for Start 2 Finish, Running & Reading Clubs. Here at Start 2 Finish she works as hard -perhaps harder- as she did in 1985 on that 'testosterone enhanced' course, helping to break the cycle of childhood poverty through nurturing the minds, bodies, and social health of countless Canadian children. Ted's Run For Literacy is a proud supporter of Sylvia and Start 2 Finish.  Come run Ted's Run for Literacy on October 20.  Run for Ted.  Run for Sylvia. Run to break the cycle of childhood poverty. You can register here.

So friends, that's Sylvia's story in a nutshell.  I hope you care. I hope she makes you proud. I hope you will share her story with your family this evening over dinner, or on your next run with a friend.  Tell the story, honour the person. 

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

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Ottawa Marathon 2013; A Family Affair

All you need is love.
John Lennon

All you need is less.

Robert L. Peters

All you need is family.

Mike

Yup, that's me at mile 25... left curb... one third up... black hat... white long sleeve...
The half-marathon course converged with the full-course about a mile previous to this picture.  
Most runners in the picture are halves. (photo credit Jennifer, click to super size)

My eleventh marathon was the best that I've run in a couple of years.  So many things came together to make this race a success. The coolish weather, the beautiful course, the strong crowd support all contributed to making this marathon simply perfect. But it was family, my Ontario family, that made it a truly spectacular day. 

All you need is family.

My 84 year old mother in-law was upset because she left her cowbell and drumstick at home. Why does an 84 year old women have a cowbell and drumstick?  She bought one, of course, in 2010 to support me when I ran the Chicago Marathon.  Yup, she was there too. Banging on the cowbell and cheering me on.

All you need is family.

I tease her... without that cowbell I can't guarantee a win.  

All you need is family.

My sister in-law, Paula teases me over pre-race pasta and wine... you have to win because I bet the house on you taking first place.  If you don't win I'm ruined!  And then, over post race beers she asks ... what am I to do now?  I'm homeless and it's your fault!  

All you need is family.

I received an email from Toronto Chris minutes after crossing over the line, not bad for an old guy he teases. Chris had just crossed the finish line of Boston when the explosion occurred and he's a remarkable runner.  

All you need is family.  

Later, post marathon in a bar watching the Blue Jays, my mother in-law insists I wear my medal.  I say no, it's not important to me, she replies emphatically  it's important to me, put it on!  I drape it around my neck and onlookers smile and nod in support. She hugs and kisses me Quebec style. 

All you need is family.

Jennifer, supporting me with gentle patience, sweet nutrition, and an over abundance of love for the entire training period leap frogs the course cheering and snapping pictures.  Ten days before race day I say... can we just agree that next week is all about me?

To which she replies... and how is that different from the week before that and the weeks before that and the week before that, and the week before that....  

All you need is family.  

Mile 13.5, down hill, putting on the brakes before the quads seize
(photo credit Jennifer)

And now for the numbers... zzzz... I trained for a 4:15 marathon with 20:1 walk breaks and I managed to slip over the line at 4:14:35.3. I logged just under 600 training miles in 5 months for this marathon ... in cruel conditions. My time is not stellar, not a personal best, not even close to remarkable... it's barely a blip on the damn scoreboard... and yet for me, this old flatlander from peg city, it's a respectable time, even admirable.  The numbers say  I placed 153/235 in my age category (55-59), 2395/3141 by gender, and 3190/4922 overall and yet my family, my beautiful family, made me feel like a Kenyan. I didn't cross the finish line, I soared. 

All you need is family.

Nine family gathered post race for dinner and wine in a downtown Ottawa restaurant. Four were under 30, two were newly married.  All were family. All were happy. The talk was loose, open, non-judgemental, laughter resonated. It was not about the marathon, it was not about the wedding, it was about family, and roots, and love, deep unrequited love.  

So my friends, love your family fiercely, know they are there for you as you will be there for them. Heal the wounds. Swallow your pride. Apologize like you mean it. Sit on a warm dock with a chilled Chardonay and enjoy the time that is now.

All you need is family. 

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

These Sweaters My Mother Knit

success

she has achieved success
who has lived well 
laughed often and loved much

who has looked for the best in others 
and given then them the best she had
... 

whose life was an inspiration, 

whose memory is a benediction.

bessie a. stanley

These sweaters my mother knit, they continue to wrap me in warmth and love.

It's a good day to be alive, running, remembering my mother.

Mike

4:09:44 into the 3rd Wave

Some people wake up on Monday mornings

Barring maelstrom and red flare warnings

With no explosion and no surprises

Perform a series of exercises

Andrew Bird, Simple x from the album Armchair Apocrypha

"After you've run 26 miles you're not going to stop there." 
Bill Iffrig, 3 meters from the finish line.

At 4 hours, 9 minutes and 44 seconds into the third wave 78 year old Bill Iffrig was steps away from completing his 3rd Boston Marathon when the first of two bombs detonated.  The concussive force knocked him off his feet and rendered him temporarily deaf.  As he lay crumpled, stunned on Boylston Street he attempted to make sense of the incomprehensible.  He saw the second bomb explode and his mind seized. He was immediately surrounded by police and race officials. As he lay on the pavement a volunteer helped him to his feet and offered him a wheel chair. Bill declined the chair and crossed the line on wobbly legs with ears ringing.  He then walked another 6 blocks to his hotel.    

A reporter later asked Bill why he declined the wheelchair to which he replied "After you've run 26 miles you're not going to stop there."

At 4:09:44 into the third wave chaos erupted and terror seized Boston. This is the exact instant that smart phones world wide lit up, including mine.  This is the nano-second that social media sites flooded the airwaves.  This is when the images of dismembered bodies and blood pouring flashed world wide.  We saw the chaos and the insanity... we saw it all in internet real time.

Of all the images from this tragic event this is the one that continues to haunts me. I am drawn to the fluorescent yellow police vests and the bright red of Bill's singlet. The vibrant colours show strength and yet they are contrasted with incredible vulnerability.  The wisp of Bill's grey hair, his age, the faded white line, the multi-national flags blowing stiff from the blast, the smoke, the chaos. 

But it's the wisp of hair that is the focal point.  I carried a blurry image of this photograph on my long run this morning. The wisp of hair. The red singlet.  The thinness of body. Legs buckling. Crumpled body. The incredible pragmatism of Bill's words ... you're not going to stop there... as if to challenge the evil head on.  A wisp of hair. A wisp of fate.  A wisp of humanity. 

Life is but a wisp.

I received an email from a friend at the finish line. He witnessed the carnage and the insanity in technicolor. He paraphrased Jack Layton's final words to our beloved nation... love is stronger than hate...  In the context of the evil abounding the words cause my eyes to brim with tears. It seems abundantly appropriate to repeat the words here in their entirety. 

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic.
And we'll change the world.

Yes friends, it's a good day to be alive, but it is also sad.  Let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic on this day and on all days. 

When will you run today?

Mike