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SRRC Race Reports

JFK 50 Mile Race, Boonsboro, MD —Sat., November 18, 2006
by Siva Natarajan

March of the Runners—My First Ultramarathon

Think of Morgan Freeman's voice narrating . . .

"There is a mysterious ritual that dates back 44 years, which no creature has survived except one—the ultra-runner. Each year at around the same time in November, these creatures will leave the comfort of the short races, and instead embark on a nearly impossible journey, usually in pursuit of (pain and) pride.

It will be a long and harsh journey, and some of them will not survive it; nonetheless they will begin their march. With every passing hour, while the mind gets noticeably weaker, the next mile gets seemingly longer. When they get tired, they will get some rest. When they get hungry they will get something to eat and drink. Over the course of the day, they will walk, limp, cry, and complain, but will continue inching forward. In the end, most of them will reach the destination and earn their badge of pride, but one wonders if there is more to this than a medal." (Slow gentle melody plays……)

Am I ready?

This year I became one of these creatures, and here is how my transformation began. It was a nice sunny Saturday morning in early October. I was entering the taper period in my marathon training program, and was looking forward to my second marathon, Baltimore, in 2 weeks. The Loudoun Road Runners (LRR) had finished a morning run and were sitting outside at Greenberries. I got to listening to Mike and Phil, whose mission that day seemed to be all about brainwashing Tom into signing up for his first 50 miler. Up until that moment, even though I was starting to get comfortable with the 26.2 number, the word "ultra" translated to "crazy", "respect the distance", "jaw-drop", "don't even think about it". However, by the time we finished coffee, they had not only convinced Tom, but also got me thinking that I might be able to do it.

I was tempted, and even filled out the application form when I got home, but then came to my senses and admitted that I was not ready for such a distance. I still fancied that I would reconsider JFK if I did well at Baltimore. It turned out that I had a great time at Baltimore and, as one website put it, "in the endorphin flooded state of euphoria that followed", I mailed in my JFK application. I now believed that JFK was doable, while respecting that it was going to be very challenging.

The first 16 miles of the JFK are on the Appalachian Trail. Since I had no trail running experience, I joined the LRR for a trail run at Keys Gap, two weeks before the race. I thought I was sufficiently warned about the challenges of the AT, but 10 minutes into the run, I found myself shaking my head in disbelief on what I saw and experienced. It is one thing to hear others describe the AT, but it is only when you actually try to run it that you begin to understand the challenge. I was getting frustrated and sick of having to navigate the endless stream of rocks, and couldn't figure out what other runners enjoyed in such an experience. One aspect of the trail run that took me by surprise was the intense concentration that one had to maintain. You had to watch every step, guess at the next rock to put your foot on, and when you slip or twist your ankle quickly regain your balance. At the end of the run, it felt as if my brain had frozen hard and that it needed time to thaw before I could start to process thoughts and talk again.

That single trail run shattered my confidence. I felt awfully underprepared and realized how foolish I might have been to sign up for the JFK. In the days, hours, and minutes leading up the race, I was nervous and anxious, consumed by thoughts of the race. My desire was to finish the race before the 12 hour limit, and my fear was that I would not be able to finish at all.

Race Day

Trail runner . . .

While the rest of the world was either intently following every news bulletin on TomKat's wedding or lining up to see the world's deadliest spy, here we were in a high school gym in a small nondescript MD town waiting for the race to begin. I handed over my bags to Terry Simonds, who was very kind in offering to crew for me.

We started our journey at 7AM and soon headed into the AT. I settled into a comfortable pace and walked most of the hills. The two training runs at Keys Gap had prepared me for the trail section; however, I was eager to get to the flat C&O towpath.

I changed shoes at mile 16 and got on to the towpath. After a couple of miles, though, my right shin started to hurt. I also started to feel very bored. Between mile 20 and 44, I went through several low points, and the thought of quitting crossed my mind numerous times. I began to question what there was to gain by this exercise. As my shin splints worsened, I decided to get in some walk breaks. By now my jogging pace seemed very close to my walking pace. However, when I timed myself, I found that it took me 17 minutes to walk a mile, almost 4-5 minutes more than if I jogged at a very slow pace. I had 15 miles to go, and I realized that the more I walked the more I jeopardized my chances of finishing before the 7PM cutoff. I had no option other than to reduce the walks breaks. I started to focus on one mile at a time and in getting to the next aid station. The aid stations refueled the stomach and the mind, and getting a back massage at the mile 38 stop was pure bliss.

Inspiration

If Rocky Balboa can do it . . .

It is truly amazing how powerful a friendly smile, a few words, or some uplifting music can be. It was great to see Terry, John, and other LRR runners at regular intervals. At mile 41, I hit another low point and began walking wondering if I will make the deadline. When I heard another runner say "less than half a mile to the end of the towpath…", I found the energy to resume jogging. At mile 42 we got off the towpath and on to the road. It was getting dark, and that 7PM buzzer was what kept me on my feet for the next several miles. I was very slow but now felt that I was going to finish. I trudged along.

With just a few more miles to go, I heard some music blaring from a stereo on the back of a bicycle that was following us. As the biker got closer, the music got louder, and I found yet another spike in energy and found myself picking up pace dramatically. The rider noticed it, and accompanied me for the next few minutes. I rode the wave and passed at least 20 – 30 runners. Thinking back, that moment reminds me of the scene where Rocky, with music blasting in the background, sprints up the museum steps. I felt good, strong, and inspired. Soon after, I rolled into the finish area with flood lights pouring down upon us. I smiled. I did it. Mission Accomplished.

Ultra Reward

If Rocky Balboa can do it . . .

So now that I have survived, surprised myself, and earned my badge, do I think there is more to this ritual than a shiny medal? For me, JFK was both an empowering and a humbling experience. I was, and am still, fascinated by the fact that in spite of how miserable I felt during the race, and in spite of the numerous times where I felt like I HAD to quit, I persisted and succeeded. It revealed the immense potential within us, and showed me how we tend to underestimate our capabilities and set imaginary limits. At the same time witnessing people who were much older than me, cruise past me, kept things in perspective. These insights apply to all aspects of life, not just running, and that, to me, is my real "ultra" reward.

Results

Finisher!

772 Siva Natarajan 31 M 158/192 SOUTH RIDING VA 11:33:53 13:50

November 2006

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