The night passes—3:00 a.o., 4:00 a.M., 5:00 A.M. Casualties continue to stumble in. In the context of a race, it is a scene with which I am not familiar. In all the races I’ve ever run, the vast majority of finishers appear none the worse for the wear; their personal struggle has been more mental than physical. And while I know that is true in this case as well—that the mental challenges of an ultra far outweigh the physical—the medical tent throws each runner’s personal struggle into stark relief. At the end of a normal race, most of us must trust ourselves to give an honest accounting of our efforts; there is often little objective evidence that we have run to our limits. The crucible of this race, though, leaves no doubt. Iam envious of these athletes; the magnitude of effort is so readily apparent, so beyond question, that I cannot help but be jealous.

My two hyponatremic runners from Michigan Bluff finish well. Others that I treated at the aid station finish, not as well. Luanne comes in around 3:00 a.M., trucking gamely around the track, disappointed but still in line for a top-10 finish. Irun part of the final lap with her.

“Dr. Friedman!” she yells. “I made it!”

“Luanne, I’ve got you a chiropractor!” I say, smiling.

More and more runners come through. Lisa Bliss finishes in a PR, 25 hours and change, looking incredibly fresh. I treat Carol O’ Hear at the finish line for her severely sprained ankles, both of which I wrapped at Michigan Bluff. After her third-place finish last year, she is disappointed but relieved to be safely in. Her ankles are the size of grapefruits; they have looked that way, she tells me, since the 10th mile. I am both appalled and amazed, and once again envious.

Is it insane? Of course it is. I need look no farther than the devastation strewn about the medical tent to conclude as much. But to dismiss it completely as spectacle would miss the point—that there is a sport, a sheer excellence within it as well. These runners are daredevils and stunt men and athletes. They may attempt feats that I do not understand. But they share the same motivation that I do: to each find our limit and to translate the task into pure physical form. Inside the medical tent, the sport of it is revealed.

I look at the stadium—the runners, the volunteers, the medical tent, the lab draws—and I marvel. I marvel at the athletes and the daredevils, at the determination and the devastation, at the sport and the spectacle. I marvel at it all, at the pure dichotomy. After 30 hours, I stand in the center of the stadium under the blazing hot sun, and I am converted.

When I return home to New York, I’m online almost immediately. I don’t know about a 100-miler—but if I can find one that fits my schedule, a 50K doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. i

Making of a Marathon

The ING Georgia Marathon Was Lindsey’s Race.

he loss of a dear friend, a milestone birthday, and a longtime dream sparked

the birth of the ING Georgia Marathon. Victoria Seahorn was about to turn 50 years old and had recently lost a close friend to breast cancer. She says that’s when she knew she should pursue her dream to organize a springtime marathon in Georgia for runners around the world to see Atlanta at its best. She envisioned 26.2 miles through historic streets and diverse neighborhoods that would showcase the city.

Seahorn wanted a race dedicated to spirit and life, a reminder of her dear friend Lindsey Gabe. The two women ran their first marathon together in 1993. They trained together through the Jeff Galloway program, and as many runners do after all those hours of running side by side, they formed a bond. For years they ran together, shared stories, and even volunteered for the Galloway training program to help others. Through it all, a close friendship flourished. About a decade later, Lindsey discovered she had breast cancer. Throughout her battle with cancer, Lindsey didn’t give up fighting and didn’t give up running. Even as she was struggling through chemotherapy, Lindsey and Seahorn ran the Boulder Backroads Marathon together. Seahorn recalls what an amazing day that was: “Tt took Lindsey nine hours, because the chemo was taking such a toll on her that she had to walk, but she finished!”

Lindsey lost her life to breast cancer

stranger; she would help anybody. She was so strong and gave so much to the community. I wanted to do something to give back to the community like she did,” says Seahorn. That’s when it was decided

» Atace dedicated to a friend who was an inspiration to all—Lindsey Gabe (center).

Atlanta’s first spring marathon would become a reality and that the race would be dedicated to Lindsey.

With her mind made up, Seahorn set off to find a major sponsor. “I went to ING. I thought it would be a perfect fit. They have the New York City Marathon, and I wanted to establish that feeling of a New York but on a smaller scale. I wanted to show off our city and neighborhoods and see runners, walkers, and spectators all unite on that one day,” says Seahorn.

THE VOLUNTEERS COME ONBOARD

While this may have started out with one woman and her vision, soon others jumped on the bandwagon to help pull off a world-class event. Since Seahorn has been part of the running community in Atlanta for years, it didn’t take long for the calls and e-mails to start coming in from people asking what they could do to help. About 50 volunteers played integral parts in getting the inaugural ING Georgia Marathon off the ground. On race day, that number skyrocketed to close to 2,000 volunteers.

With sponsors and volunteers in place, Seahorn had to plan out a course. She sat on her living-room floor with a big map and just started circling all the interesting places she thought people coming to Atlanta would want to see. She circled beautiful places, unique places, and historic places. She then handed the map over to a friend and told him to make it into 26.2 miles. It took three revisions to come up with the basic route. But even then, there was plenty of tweaking. Volunteers repeatedly rode and ran the route, making sure it was safe and doable. They discovered some hills were a little too big and some streets were a little too narrow, so there were more changes before coming up with the final version. In the end, runners started at Underground Atlanta, went through the Sweet Auburn District, by the Martin Luther King Center and the Ebenezer Baptist Church where Dr. King gave his sermons, and on to Inman Park with its magnificent restored homes. Runners continued through the eclectic Little Five Points area, neighboring Candler Park, past Agnes Scott College, as well as the campus of Emory University. Runners cruised through the Lullwater area, which features the house from Driving Miss Daisy, onto Freedom Parkway and around the Jimmy Carter Center for one of the best views of the city. They continued into the Virginia Highlands neighborhood to Piedmont Park and back to Atlanta’s famous Peachtree Street to the finish.

To close off 26.2 miles of city streets is no easy feat. Seahorn had to schmooze city leaders. She needed the proper permits, she had to contact police, fire, and emergency crews, and most importantly, she wanted to get the city leaders on her side. Seahorn says, “I wanted to take time to know I had everybody’s support. Without city leaders behind you, putting on a successful event like this is nearly

impossible. Fortunately, I didn’t run into any resistance.” City officials, Atlanta’s mayor, and the police departments embraced the idea and were extremely helpful. Even Georgia Governor Sonny Perdue wrote a letter of support.

THE LITTLE ITEMS A RACE NEEDS TO PAY FOR

With the necessary support from the political powers, Seahorn began looking at the financial side. There are enormous start-up costs to putting on an inaugural race. “There are tables, signs, mile markers, traffic cones, all the standard items needed for any race, as well as many things you just don’t think about like garbage cans and rakes … who thinks about rakes?” asks Seahorn. While there were plenty of volunteers, there were people who did get paid, such as police to control traffic, attorneys, a public relations firm, an accountant, the photo company, and the timing company. Money also went to Active.com for registration and to set up map tracking and text messaging, attending other race expos to promote the race, porta-potties, lanyards for media and volunteers, finisher medals totaling $47,000, plus a $39,000 purse. Even after the race is over, the bills keep piling up for street sweepers, forklifts, and truck rentals to haul equipment.

IT’S A SELLOUT!

Seahorn capped the race at 15,000 runners. Atlanta already has another marathon, run on Thanksgiving Day. The Atlanta Marathon has run 46 times and has been attracting about 8,000 runners, so some were skeptical that a new marathon could get 15,000 people, but not Seahorn. “We have one of the largest running communities in the country, so I knew I could get 15,000 runners. However, I was surprised that it sold out in eight months!” says Seahorn.

A little more than one-third of the racers signed up for the full marathon, the rest for the half. The runners came from all 50 states and several countries, including a group of fun-loving Irish runners representing every county in Ireland. With elite runners from Russia, Poland, and Kenya, Seahorn didn’t want the Georgia runners to get lost in the shuffle, so she offered a special award for the top male and female runners from the Peach State. The first Georgians to cross the finish line won a trip for two to Amsterdam and registration to the ING Amsterdam Marathon.

Every good marathon has great spectators, and Seahorn wanted great spectators. She wanted to get people out of their homes and on to the streets to cheer on the runners. “Cheering zones” were created along the course, and they couldn’t be missed. These were places where groups of spectators could gather, with orange blowup thunder sticks. Their goal: make a lot of noise and give the runners something to smile about. Atlanta’s Mayor Shirley Franklin issued an “Orange Up” challenge to see who could be the most creative and use a lot of orange (the