I had one of the most stressful weeks ever at work. I was signed up to run the JFK 50, a grueling ultramarathon, and I almost decided not to do it, because of this. My kids had Birthday parties to go to, and I just would have sat in the house, so what the hell. I went.
I woke up at 4 am and stood in front of the mirror, trying to determine if the man in it was equal to the task before him. He looked, stressed, tired and drawn. “you’re a rock,” I say. “On your good days anyway.”
It was 19 degrees at the starting line, and I was a little underdressed. It’s hard to figure these things perfectly, and you have to be careful in your layering or you’ll keep a layer of soggy clothing next to your skin and up colder than you would otherwise. Everything I wear for ultra distance is “battle-tested.” Even the slightest little proplems, flaws and imperfections can add up to disaster over 8 or more consecutive hours of running.
I am Batman. I have black underarmour tights beneath wind pants. a black coldgear compression shirt. Two more tech shirt layers, one long sleeve, one short, black running jacket, black sunglasses, black gloves and a white knit cap my daughter gave (Yeah, I know it breaks up the theme, but it’s from my daughter.) I had spent probably five mintures per foot putting on my running shoes and socks. These are “special” socks. I used to have a package of 4 pairs, these are all that are left. What makes these socks special is that if I put them on very carefully, and leave a slight gap in the front, my toenails will not turn black and fall off and I won’t get blisters after running 50 miles. My shoes are laced perfectly. Too tight, and those tendons on top of your foot will get damaged and you’ll be crippled for a month. Too loose and you get blisters and can fall.
The gun goes off at the start and I’m not one mile into it when I feel like turning back, just getting in my car and going home. Why do this? I’m stubborn though, and I like the Tshirt they gave us for this race, and I don’t feel right wearing it unless I finish the race.
I run two miles up a mountain and turn onto the appalachian trail. Fifteen miles of rocky ridge running, up and down two mountains. The ground is slippery. Lots of people fall. I keep my head down, I’m lucky and I don’t. We’re all single file.
Coming to the switchbacks this guy behind me is trying to pass (on rocks, on the side of a mountain) “On your left.” I keep my eyes down and keep watching my feet and the jerk nearly pushes me off. It really makes me mad out of all proportion. You can only go so fast on the trail. It’s dangerous on the rocks and switchbacks. There’s no point in passing, because everybody is single file. After the trail you run 26 miles on the C&O canal, perfectly flat wide path. You can go as fast as you want. Guarranteed that the jerks trying to pass you on the trail will be walking on the path, and end up finishing 2 hours behind you.
I meet a nice guy from Australia and we talk a bit. I tell him about the jerk, and he just gets quiet at the anger in my voice and drops back.
I hit the canal, get some food and refill my water bottle at the aid station and run. The wind is in my face, and I’m shivering. I’ve pulled my fingers out of the fingers of my gloves and I hold clench them. My cap is frozen with sweat.
Time passes, and I run and I think of all the things that are stressing me out and making me angry at work and how to resolve them.
Around mile 30 things start to break down, as they normally do. A human body my weight will burn something like 1200 calories an hour running, more keeping warm in the cold weather. Even if you eat, constantly you can only absorb 600-700 an hour. The cold air is dehydrating, your stomach turns sour and it’s hard to eat and drink. I’m entering the “ultimate suffering” phase.
I actually like this. When things hurt as much as they possibly can… it doesn’t get worse. At that point in time, the thing that is “you,” whatever that is, makes a decision. Give in, or don’t. If you don’t, you become acquainted with a great secret. Your body is nothing more than a bag of shit. Once you understand that, you can make it do anything you want. You become distanced from it. The pain is just another signal and no different than a mild itch.
You are breaking down and beginning to die. Don’t worry, it will take a long time, but the process has begun. Negotiations are over, and you’re into your final effort, and you’re consuming yourself body and soul to keep moving. Once you’re hear, and the whining is over you know for a fact that you can just keep going like this until you die. I’m filled with the joyful scream of rage and pain that is the legacy of every on this earth. All the pain, all the stress of life, of work, is gone. All the frustrations of what might have been versus who I am are gone. The constant disenchantment of compromise, love lost, potential unfulfilled are gone. Now I am just another animal, struggling and dying, or not.
In other words, in these moments when your body hurts this much, life doesn’t.
More time passes. My quadriceps are aching and brittle and weak. I time myself in miles. Run a mile, drink gatorade, walk a minute while trying not to get nauseaus. Repeat forever.
As bad as this seems, overrall, I’m doing quite well! I’m passing more people than are passing me. If you run ultramarathons you become accustomed to operating at extremes. By having gone to them, you have a better appreciation and recognition of how good life is for us in this society.
A good part of the planet lives it’s life in misery and hunger and struggle for survival. We as a country suffer from our excess of fatty foods and leisure. We’re fat and weak and have no willpower.
If willpower is a muscle, I’m exercising it by doing this. Maybe making myself better or worthy somehow of the privilege I enjoy.
I think of all the things that make me unhappy, all the people I’m angry about, all the situations I wish I wasn’t in, and as I feel the stress and anger rise in me I direct the energy into motion, and those stresses and anger go away for a while, or fade for a bit.
This is how I run. This is why run. This is how I’ve been doing it for nine years.
Up until now, anyway.
I come into the aid station at mile 38, and fill up my water bottle, and try to chew on a piece of power power. I can’t seem to make saliva, so I kind of choke it down with some gatorade. I’m taking a three minute walk since I ate, and anyway the walks have been getting longer and the runs slower, so who am I kidding?
Than I had an honest to God mystical/religious experience. Tears came to my eyes, and I suddenly felt all the power of all the love of all the living things in the universe flow into me. I can’t describe it in any other way. It came into the center of my being and flowed out towards my extremities. I could feel it tingle in my arms and legs as it moved. I sobbed once with the beauty of it, being one with creation. Then I started to run. Then I started to run faster. I felt at peace. I don’t think I’ve felt so free since I was a small child.
Even as it was happening I was skeptical. This doesn’t happen. The muscle soreness built up over 38 miles just doesn’t go away. One doesn’t just get filled with a burst of infinite energy. Maybe somebody put some methamphetamine in my gatorade at the last rest stop.
Anyway, it didn’t go away. I didn’t stop. I kept running, and I kept running faster and faster as the soreness fled from my body. Usually, I run on anger and hate and stress, but now I was fueled by the power of love, just like a bad Huewy Lewis song.
At mile 38 I was a little bit behind my past pace for this race. The two times I’d done the race before I ran a 9:55 and a 9:57.
Yesterday, I crossed the finish line in 9:25. I made up more than half an hour in twelve miles.
I was sad that it was over. I felt great and wanted to keep running. I grabbed a piece of pizza and joked around and thanked people who were volunteering, than I went home and had a bath and played with the kids.
Today, I am only mildly sore.
So, I guess the question is, if anybody else has had a mystical experience like this? I don’t beleive in hocus pocus, so any physiological explanations.
The best one I have is that the cold weather made me sorer and slower early on, forcing me to conserve energy and take it easy. Than I got a second wind at mile 38 or so, and the picking up of the pace warmed me up enough that I started to function a lot better, thus I was able to expend the energy at the finish that I would otherwise have used up earlier in the race.
That may be true, but I like the idea that I may have transcended and achieved enlightenment a lot better.