Tomorrow morning, John and I will wake up at 4:30 a.m., and John will prepare to run his first ultramarathon: The Vermont 50 Miler. He’s been training specifically for this event for months: getting up in the darkness to embark on 4 and 5 hour training runs, heading to the bridges of Southern New Jersey to run up and down, and up and down, and up and down, to simulate hill training (almost 9,000 feet of elevation change for tomorrow’s race), icing his feet, knees, and calves to reduce soreness and speed recovery. He hired a coach to help him with his training plan and nutrition (a wise investment, in my opinion). The training has been challenging, a test of his physical ability, discipline, and determination.
Tomorrow morning, John will summon the strength gained from this preparation to propel his body 50 miles through the Vermont countryside. We estimate it will take him between 9-12 hours to complete the feat. He will need to complete the race in 12 hours in order to be considered an official finisher. I don’t have any doubts that he’ll meet his goal. Like many endurance athletes, John is focused and willing to suffer. Despite pre-race nerves, once the gun goes off tomorrow morning, John will put one foot in front of the other for 50 miles. I know that. If he can’t run, he’ll walk. If he can’t walk, he will crawl.
My job is to be his Sherpa (more formally known as either race crew or handler). I’ll have extra gear: sneakers (no less than 3 extra pairs), socks (can’t even count how many pairs), clothes, towels, body glide, and of course FOOD. I’ll have a truck full of sports drink, hammer bars, pretzels, fig newtons, cinnamon bread, bananas, clementimes – an ultra running restaurant on wheels. I’ll meet him at the aid stations that allow crew access to provide whatever assistance he needs. I’ll be checking his caloric intake – making sure he’s keeping up with the deficit as much as possible. Then, I’ll meet him at mile 41, and run the last 9 miles with him as his pacer. Neither of us has run this far before, so we don’t know what 50 miles will bring: that’s part of the excitement. It’s also a key contributor to pre-race jitters–for both us.
Since John and I have started training and competing in various endurance sports events, many have asked us: Why? I don’t know if there is a single answer to this question. The reasons I started running are different from the reasons I have today. And, I can’t speak completely for John. But, we’ve talked about why we do endurance events–a lot. The allure of the ultra, and endurance sport in general, is pushing the mind and body to limits that we previously thought were impossible. Running the race, as well as the training leading up to it, is a challening test that requires considerable forethought and strategy: how fast to run, what type of nutrition to ingest for optimum performance, what tactical strategies are best to handle the difficulties of the course. Beyond these elements, endurance sports require considerable mental fortitude. Any endurance athlete who says he or she never felt like quitting during a race is probably lying. Forget the probably: s/he is lying. While physical strength is necessary for participating in endurance sports, finishing a long and grueling race is always about mental strength.
Finishing a race is also the beginning of the next challenge. One thing I have learned, is that endurance races are addictive. Crossing the finish line brings more than a rush of endorphins, a finisher’s medal and t-shirt. These races (and the training that leads up to them) are journeys of realization about who we are, what we can be, and what we can do for others.
Tomorrow morning, John will begin another test of his mental and physical strength. No matter the outcome, I know he’ll pass.
