:: Contact :: Subscribe

Excerpt from "Running across the Millenium"

by Lynn David Newton

Don't Ever Change

Life on the track was good. Although I carried my metal lap counter, I paid little attention to my accumulation. My primary concern was to maintain the routine I started after the first mile, running four laps, and walking one, with no exceptions and no variations. In this way the mileage kept piling up.

At 2:30 PM I passed the marathon distance, and at 3:47 PM, I reached 50K.[28] Every step beyond that was all new territory for me---I had never gone further than 50K on my feet in a single day in my whole life. By how much would I surpass that number? I still had no clue, but I was moving relentlessly, and not showing any signs of tiredness.

[28] Despite the slow pace, this was still an hour and twenty minutes faster than I ran Crown King 50K last March.
My Goals

* When I first decided to participate in ATY, I felt that surely I could knock off fifty miles, if I trained well during the year.

* Other runners who recognize that I'm actually just another slow, fat, talentless geezer, not an ultrarunning hero, assured me that I was capable of handling even more than fifty miles. With guarded optimism I put 63 miles (the next whole mile beyond 100K) as the goal on my registration and renewed my resolve in training.

* Still other runners assured me that given a good day, I could probably look forward to even more mileage. I started to hope secretly for seventy miles, and dreamed of the glory of making 72 or 74 in the same spirit that guys like me dream of winning Boston or others dream about throwing the winning touchdown in the Superbowl---a fantasy that ain't ever gonna happen.

Nevertheless, here I was, past 50K 6:57 into the race and not experiencing a hint of tiredness. Never once during the 24 hours did I entertain the thought of quitting and accepting whatever mileage I had accrued by then. All I had to do was to keep going.

Ultrarunners refer to this principle as RFP: Relentless Forward Progress. It's the old tortoise and hare principle. It's how guys like me pass the skinnyfast ectomorphs while they're busy napping. It works.
Here, There and Everywhere

I'm the sort of person who probably could have endured this run even if I had been the only runner on the track. Fortunately, this was not necessary. As I reflect on all that happened during the day, I recall many scenes and short exchanges. It's impossible now to remember exactly where in the stream of time they all took place.

Throughout the six days there was the fresh presence of Ruth Ann, who recently graduated from college. She has been helping every year at this race since she was in grade school. It was Ruth Ann who saw me walk up as a visitor last year and asked me what I was looking for. When I explained I'd just recently heard about the race and was curious to see what was going on, she invited me onto the track for a closer look. It was then that I first met Paul in person, and it was then that the seed was planted in my head that in 1999 I would be at this race, either as a volunteer or as a runner, or both.

Ruth Ann did everything at all hours of the night: counting and calling laps, working the aid stations, and bunches of miscellaneous tasks. She even took quite a few laps herself, including with the Brazilian 6-day leaders, while wearing a nearly ankle-length dress.

I'm guessing it was Ruth Ann who was responsible for putting up a series of daily Bible quotations on posterboards by the starting line. Two that I remember are

Boys will both tire out and grow weary, and young men themselves will without fail stumble, but those who are hoping in Jehovah will regain power. They will mount up with wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not tire out.---Isaiah 40:30, 31

Do YOU not know that the runners in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that YOU may attain it. Moreover, every man taking part in a contest exercises self-control in all things. Now they, of course, do it that they may get a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible one. Therefore, the way I am running is not uncertainly; the way I am directing my blows is so as not to be striking the air ... --- 1 Corinthians 9:24--26

These verses in their original context aren't primarily about literal running; rather, they use running as a metaphor to illustrate higher truths. But they're often quoted by runners for inspiration.

At the 1:00 PM direction change a new tradition sprang to life, initiated by the cheerfully ebullient Brazilians. As the snake of runners wound around the cone and doubled back on itself, each runner slapped high-fives with all the others coming the opposite direction. The feeling of community grew. This little ritual happened again every two hours the rest of the race, except at 3:00 AM, when apparently the mood for celebration had waned, most runners were in deep bite-me mode, and life was quiet on the track.

A former Olympian from Arizona was in the race: 64-year-old Michael G. Allen. He had been a cyclist in the 1964 Olympics. Michael also ran the Mad Dog 50K race that I assisted at in late November. He's an indomitably cheerful man, and a pleasure to be near. He maintained a smile from ear to ear from the beginning to the end.

Michael's running form is unusual. He's a little bent over, perhaps from arthritis, and swings his arms in a highly unusual free-swinging motion, probably to compensate for his off-center balance. Yet from the shoulders down he's perfectly centered, and runs with rock solid smoothness and almost no vertical motion. It seemed that every time I blinked he was passing me by, always with a friendly greeting and encouragement. After he reached fifty miles, he apparently got off the track and slept for a while, and then returned in the early morning hours. In this way he finally beat me, but by a mere two laps! You'll have to read on to know how far that was.

As I observed Michael and other good runners, such as the ultimate 6-day winner Antonio Edmilson de Freitas, I saw that efficiency, not speed, is the primary key to doing well at this sport. I tried to imitate what I saw.

The track was not without speedsters. At times some runners tore by so fast you could see their red shift.[29] You would never know they were engaged in a supreme test of endurance. The Brazilians crept up from behind on quiet cat feet, requiring that I be alerted to step to the outside to let them through, as per race protocol and common courtesy.

[29] That's a little astrophysics joke I've wanted to use for years.

It was a pleasure to be passed repeatedly by beautiful Stephanie Ehret with her long pony tail swinging rhythmically every time she blazed past. On one of those occasions, late at night, she passed a bunch of us on the northeast backstretch in such a heat it seemed as though she was doing speedwork. I let out an audible, ``Wow!'' Two or three of the runners around me acknowledged the impressiveness of this sight. It was only later that I learned Stephanie fell behind early in the race due to some nasty stomach problems, but that she recovered, and went on to pass all the runners who were ahead of her. In the end she became the overall 24-hour winner, with 116.82 miles.

Stephanie's husband, Peter Bakwin, is a formidable ultrarunner in his own right, and ran with her on occasion. In mid-afternoon he began running laps in the opposite direction from the racers at a phenomenal speed. Estimating this was like solving a word problem in high school algebra: If runner R starts running on a track of length L at speed S, and another runner Q goes the opposite direction at speed O, and they meet again in T seconds, how fast is runner R going? The answer from the vantage point of runner Q (me) seemed to be in the 5:15-per-mile range, but Peter claims that he would be grateful for the ability to do a single mile in 6:00. Furthermore, he kept it up for forty minutes.

Peter also helped crew his father-in-law, who was ultimately successful in making his goal and one more mile to boot, for a total of 68 miles. All together, they make an impressive running family.

A delightful presence on the track was 6-day runner Andy Lovy from Chicago. Andy is 64, a psychiatrist and sports medicine physician, and bears a striking resemblance to Burl Ives. He's run the multi-day races at ATY several times. His strategy is to run hard the first day, then to set up a portable massage table, and offer counseling, encouragement, a few good laughs, and outright medical service to any runner on the track who needs it, endearing himself to everyone he comes close to. As I passed him once, I suggested he should be handing out business cards. It was Andy who advised me to shower and stretch the night before the race. While doing this, Andy still finished the race in twelfth place, with a total of 227.67 miles.

Martina Hausmann from Germany is one mighty determined woman. She ran crewless, hoping to set a German record, but fell short by about thirty miles. The warmth of the Arizona afternoons, although pleasant for normal activity, proved to be too depleting for her. At times she was a mere ten miles behind the overall leader. She finished only eleven miles behind, with 428.75 miles, for second place overall. The other woman in the 6-day race, Cassandra Johnson, finished thirteenth overall with 226.68 miles.

Excerpts from 'Running Through the  Millennium' by Lynn David Newton