100 Miler Conversations

Sometimes people who know I run vast distances (I just love the word vast, so kindly excuse the minor hyperbole) ask me what I think about during those many hours of running, and whether I get bored.

The truthful answer is that I have NEVER been bored while running.  Never.

The act of running--the physical, the mental, indeed the spiritual (you get to define that one)--combine to make any run for me a rich pageant of experience.  And if you're talking about a race, the ante has just been upped, for the venue of a timed, measured course and competition all serve to heighten the experience.

Case in point is my last 100 mile effort, the Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Race, in March 2010 (has it really been 3 years already?).  Throughout the race I temporarily partnered up with various runners who were running at my speed, but such conversations were fairly short.  That night, however, during my 62.5-75.0 mile segment and again in my 87.5-100.0 segment (the course is 8 repeat loops over a 12.5 mile course), I teamed up with two volunteer pacers and carried on a couple three-hour conversations, respectively.

We talked about the death of a spouse; running technologies; of near-death addiction issues by loved ones; about running to celebrate a healthy grandchild who might never have even walked (I carry a piece of her infant body cast in every race); of TV, movies, and books; of working for the Defense establishment; sedentary lifestyles; better life thru pharmaceuticals; of the use of pacers in races...in short, of anything and everything.

And the time flew, as did the miles, and the finish line drew nigh. And my mind was still racing.

 

BInary Stars...and Ultrarunning

(Image credit here)

I posted this in discussing my long training runs in prep for the Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Race, and have added emphasis:

Also I should say that this winter in southern PA was quite harsh compared to the fairly mild winters we’ve had the past several years. So getting out there for these long runs in the dead of winter, often pre-dawn, was rough. At the end of these long runs I was about done in, although I often think that our bodies are programmed to run the prescribed distance and then mentally shut down.

Want to explore that notion a bit more. This phenomenon has happened to me more times than I can count—having committed to some manner of “long” run (whatever that means at the time)—I often find that when I finish, I am just about in the bag. At that point I cannot imagine being able to run any further.

It’s just like when you prepay cash at the gas station and the pump automatically starts slowing down and then shuts down at the preset amount.

When this happens, I usually think something like “Oh, crap—I’m in the bag at 30 miles. How can I ever think about running 50? Or 100? WTF??”  But then I think, be cool, been here before, this is nothing new.

Because come race day I can do the distance and I can truthfully say that I’ve never been involved in a race day death march where I vastly underestimated my reach and I struggle just to finish.

Seems like the distance planned and the distance run are self-fulfilling prophesies, mutually synched up like a pair of binary stars.

Anybody else experience this phenomenon?