Adventure Quotient...and Ultrarunning

For lack of a better term, I've invented "Adventure Quotient."  Perhaps it's already been invented; I don't know.  Sometimes is hard as you get older to attribute ideas to brand new thoughts, versus "I must have read somewhere...."

At any rate, by Adventure Quotient I'm describing the notion of being up for new challenges, willingness to press the limits, being open to testing oneself.  In other words, the willingness to go to the edge.

For me, going to the edge and seeing what's there--physically and mentally--has always been the allure of this sport.

I've previously posted about the edge--which is a real space--here, saying:

This post is simply a plug for using the vehicle of a race to go to a place deep within yourself, a place on the edge where the vast mass of humanity never goes, and sadly, never even suspects is there. And so the measure of success in a race is not necessarily the time showing on the clock, or the distance run, the position placed, the medals, the ribbons, the certificates, or the camaraderie, fine as all those things may be. 

No, the true measure of success in a race is whether you did your best, and in giving your best, did you somehow approach that edge?  Did you flirt with that shadowy realm of total intensity, where vicariousness was abandoned for immersion?  Did you somehow sense that survival is not merely an abstract concept rendered quaintly obsolete by the veneer of civilization?

Anyway...back to my Adventure Quotient concept: if the edge is a place, then your Adventure Quotient is your willingness to try to go there.  And I see as I've gotten older that my willingness to put myself out there has dwindled.  Maybe it's not quite gone, but increasingly when offered the opportunity for a challenge, I tend to pass: it's too early, too far, we'd get back too late, I'm undertrained.

I guess I feel a bit wistful when I think about it, a kind of bittersweet feeling, realizing that I've figuratively passed the torch on to the next generation of Ultrarunners.  A man (or a woman) has got to know his/her limitations.

But...although my Adventure Quotient is low, it's not entirely vanished.  So I'm increasingly thinking of my adventures being on a smaller scale, but still adventures nonetheless.

So while I can no longer run like a 30-year-old, I certainly can run as a 63-year-old.  After all, intensity and adventure are relative....

"Animal Spirits"...and Ultrarunning

     The need passed as I grew;

     the mind took over, devising
     paths for that force in me, and the body curled up,
     sedentary, glad to be quiet and read and read,
     save once in a while, when it demanded
     to leap about or to whirl—or later still
     to walk swiftly in wind and rain
     long and far and into the dusk,
     wanting some absolute, some exhaustion.

 
Source: Excerpt from "Animal Spirits" by Denise Levertov, via The Writer's Almanac for 14 May 2013.

As I always note whenever I post a bit of poetry, mots of you can't hit that DELETE key fast enough, the moment you see the verse format.

But this poem is about being an active child, then a largely sedentary adult, except for those times when the body demanded to be used.

People who are active as adults (such as Ultrarunners) know they joy of motion, for the sheer animal pleasure of it.  We know the pains and the pleasures, and the sheer exuberance that comes from going to the edge in an extreme athletic endeavor.

And the beauty is that you get to define what "the edge" is, and how close you care to come to it:

     to walk swiftly in wind and rain
     long and far and into the dusk,
     wanting some absolute, some exhaustion.

  

The Final 10 Miles of a 100 Mile Race...

Loved this from Ultrarunning Magazine, the September 2010 issue (pg 47):

It's not easy to describe the experience of the final ten miles of a 100-mile race. Presumably, many reasons lead people to push themselves to the horizons of their perceived limits, not knowing - like Columbus - whether they’ll fall off the edge or just keep sailing until they discover unexplored territories. One rarely sees a human being - at least in our more technological and "comfortized" world – stripped so bare, where life is about basic needs and the simple premise of continuing to move forward, towards a clearly-defined, but ever-elusive goal.


- Ron Abramson, Vermont 100 pacer for Kami Semick

Brilliant--I can't really add to that.  We seek the edge, and thru running we can find it.  I've gone 100 miles three times, and each one was truly a voyage of discovery.

Why the Race?

Consider this—early man lived by his wits, skills, and to a large measure, luck.  Life spans were measured in years, not decades.  Survival was a moment to moment reality, certainly not something taken for granted.  Early man was on the edge virtually all the time.

But take modern man—virtually never on the edge, almost never called on to perform at 100% intensity.  In a sense, we've grown soft, but this is an observation, not necessarily an indictment. As an example, just think about your job.  If you're like me, I frequently work hard but almost never with absolute, total intensity and concentration. We now seem to get our living and our intensity largely vicariously.

Here's an important question: when was the last time you were totally concentrated, absorbed, focused, going to the limit?  Unless you are, say, a performing actor or musician, you probably do not absolutely reach that state.  And this question is more than merely rhetorical. The answer to this question can define a person, can be one of those "either/or" issues that separate humankind into two camps: those who know the perils and pleasures of what it's like at the edge, and those who don't.

Running—racing—is my way (and I've recognized it's perhaps my only way) to go to the edge and beyond, to perform something with total abandon, intensity, and concentration.  The last time in my life that I totally abandoned myself to anything was at the Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Race this spring, in which I realized that at the halfway point, I had run 10:05 for 50 miles, and a sub-24 was possible.  So over the next 50 miles, over the next 12+ hours, I strove to maintain my pace and not slack off. 

My world shrank to encompass only me, the trail, and that next runner ahead of me. The race became total concentration, my whole life's drama being played out on that brief stretch of trail. The start of the last 12.5 mile loop came and I continued to press, more than I needed, almost gliding now as my concentration and effort became pure distillation of that primal urge for survival, for I had entered that strange world where pleasure and pain are the same. I found that the masochist is not a pervert, he is merely an extension of ourselves. In the process of the race I discovered a little bit more of who I am.

I both dread and love that feeling; I approach the race with fear and avoidance, attraction and longing. Race day brings alternate feelings of both dread and excitement. Am I capable of holding this pace that I desire? In a more esoteric sense, am I worthy enough to put myself on the line both mentally and physically?

So why even go to this mystical edge?  I'm not a psychiatrist but I feel that it's important for one's mental health to experience the full range of one's psyche. And why the race? Simply put, most of us won't push enough in training to get to the limit; the race is the most convenient means to get to that level of intensity and thereby open up your mind.

This post is simply a plug for using the vehicle of a race to go to a place deep within yourself, a place on the edge where the vast mass of humanity never goes, and sadly, never even suspects is there. And so the measure of success in a race is not necessarily the time showing on the clock, or the distance run, the position placed, the medals, the ribbons, the certificates, or the camaraderie, fine as all those things may be.

No, the true measure of success in a race is whether you did your best, and in giving your best, did you somehow approach that edge?  Did you flirt with that shadowy realm of total intensity, where vicariousness was abandoned for immersion?  Did you somehow sense that survival is not merely an abstract concept rendered quaintly obsolete by the veneer of civilization?

If you get close enough to sense that edge, then you have in fact succeeded.

Going to the Edge...or, the Unknowable

The North Carolina State Motto is: Esse quam videri (To be, rather than to seem)

This run will be a reality check of what I am, both physically and mentally, rather than what I may seem to be.

I'm not eloquent enough to devise my own quotable quotes. I have to rely on others who have more of a way with words than I do.


Over the years I have collected quotes from various sources dealing with the notion of why we run ultras, and I have been struggling to put my own efforts and motivations into words. I guess for me it boils down to what I feel is a deep-rooted human need--the desire to go to the edge and see what's there. The beauty of this is that you get to define what "the edge" is, and how hard you want to go there.

But nothing is without risk. With that intro, hear what H. L. Menken once wrote:

Penetrating so many secrets, we cease to believe in the unknowable. But there it sits, nevertheless, calmly licking its chops.