QUEENS, NEW YORK, April 22-May 2, 2009—This was a fund-raiser for Camp Sunshine, with a goal of raising $10,000. Camp Sunshine is located in Maine and is a place where children with serious and life-threatening illnesses spend a week with their families. Mike Smith from Camp Sunshine has helped me with previous fund-raisers, the biggest being $28,000 I raised running the Badwater 135 and more than $6,000 doing a six-day race.

When I told him I was going to do the Sri Chinmoy Self-Transcendence 10Day ultra, he came up with the idea, after talking with me about it, that I should do 500 miles. I thought that was an awful lot for a 63-year-old guy like me. “That is an average of 50 miles a day.” Mike just looked back with an evil grin and assured me that I could do it. Well, he talked me into setting 500 as my goal, or perhaps I should say that I let him talk me into it. When friend and ultrarunner Andy Velazco found out about my goal, he told me he would donate $1 per mile for $500 but not a penny if I didn’t do 500 miles. Well, now the pressure was really on me and on this old, arthritic, beat-up body.

It was going to be a long, long 10 days with no beer in sight and temporarily becoming a vegetarian. For this beer-drinking, carnivorous old man, it bordered on a sin against nature—my nature. Sri Chinmoy followers are vegetarians and do not drink alcohol. The food at the race is excellent, but it is all vegetarian and no alcohol is allowed on the course.

I arrived at the race site the day before the fun started and set about putting up my gear in the big tent, spreading my sleeping bag across the wood-planked bed that will be mine for the next 10 days. I also put some gear in the dugout area that I was assigned. After shaking hands with some volunteers I knew and checking in with the race director, I checked into a nearby hotel in Queens, New York City. I walked around a little and was amazed by all the different ethnic restaurants and people in this crowded borough. Day one. The course this year is roughly the same as it was when I did the six-day alternative to the 10. A little hill has been added that goes through an asphalt park-

ing lot; it features a slight pitch. The race started at noon, complete with a slight drizzle and fewer than 30 runners; I would call them hardy, but perhaps foolish was more accurate. It soon proceeded to rain off and on until roughly 10:00 p.m. Fellow entrants Mark Dorion and Bob Oberhk are back and always a pleasure to talk to. You would think the nights would be boring here, but keep in mind that this is the city that never sleeps. There are roads you can glimpse from the racecourse. Every once in a while, you will hear a siren from a police car, ambulance, or fire truck. A motorcycle in the distance gets closer, and you hear the driver shifting gears and then see him leaning over in an aerodynamic position going well over 100 miles per hour. I have been told the police don’t chase these maniacs for several reasons—they probably won’t catch them, and they don’t want someone killed in the chase. I notch 77 miles for the first day and feel OK. Day two. The weather is OK, and I am taking a one-hour break every five hours. I am also doing more walking. I passed some of the time talking with Luis Rios, who lives in Brooklyn. Luis lives simply; he has a rotary phone, has never had a driver’s license, and uses the subway or buses to get around. Luis has a beard and likes to dress in raggedy clothes. His appearance keeps most people from sitting next to him on the subway. I think that is why he dresses like that. He is a pleasure to talk to and an excellent ultrarunner, especially for his age—60 plus. Talking with Luis and the other runners makes the miles go by much faster. He has a bed in the same tent, but I never saw him in it more than a few times in 10 days. I found out that sometimes he would sleep on the massage table at night, which was apparently much more comfortable. I add 55 miles to my total. Day three. I’m just trying to get in 50 miles a day now. My feet are swollen but I do not have any blisters yet. I get in 56 miles, which brought me to 188 total

Courtesy of Mike Brooks

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The author in the “dugout” area with his running supplies. This area is right next to the course, and all 6- and 10-day runners have an allotted spot.

miles, a personal best for three days by three-tenths of a mile. It’s not much over my previous PR, but I’ll take it. My spirits are high and I am doing the mileage that I had hoped for. Day four. The temperature gets into the 90s, and the sun is out in all its skinsearing glory with very little shade on the course. I see some of the women followers of Sri Chinmoy running mile after mile and managing to smile most of the time. The women runners seem to be as tough as, if not tougher than, the men. A woman runner once told me that being able to bear children gives women the ability to endure pain. Followers of the guru also believe that doing races like this and similar events makes you transcend into a better state of mind. I transcended into another state of pain. I have a few blisters now, and I am wearing larger shoes. I do 46 miles. Day five. Another day like yesterday: 90s, hot, and humid. My brother, Walter, came down to see me. It was good to see him and to shoot the breeze. He came down when I did the six-day, even though he does not like driving in “the City.” Around New York City, everybody just calls it the City. (I thought that was what San Francisco used to be called. Never call it “Frisco”; instead call it the City. It must have slipped its metro designation recently.) Ted Corbitt visited the runners one day, taking pictures and talking to us. He was about 80 at the time. He was one of the best ultrarunners and one of the nicest gentlemen who ever lived. Ted Corbitt still holds some ultra records. Talking to us, he made us feel like we were great runners, when in reality none of us will ever be half the runner he was. Ted was a humble man. One of my favorite pictures is of Ted Corbitt and me with the 10-day lap board in the background. The six-day runners joined us. It is kind of funny seeing these runners who are “only” doing six days. It’s like a half-marathoner compared to a marathoner. Most of them started out fast compared with the 10-day runners’ pace, but by night they had slowed. I do 50 miles. Day six. Enough is enough! Another day in the 90s, still sunny and humid. Records are being set with this heat. This is supposed to be the northeast in April, not Death Valley in July. At least Death Valley has dry heat; there’s nothing here but humidity, and plenty of it. I look back fondly at the old six-day races when Sri Chinmoy would hand out ice cream bars to the runners. The guru has passed away, but his followers still put on sporting events all over the world. The toughest one is the 3,100-mile race around a city block here in New York City in the summer. I set a six-day personal record by 14 miles! I put in 50 miles for day six, a total of 334 miles. It must have been due to the ice cream bars. Day seven. It is another 90s day, sunny and humid. (Is somebody running a Xerox machine around here, making every day pretty much the same?) All the

runners are feeling the heat except maybe Pam Reed in the six-day. She is from Tucson, Arizona, and has won Badwater overall. I was surprised to see her here, but knowing what a great runner she is, I figured she just wanted to try a new challenge. My feet are badly blistered and very swollen. There are three runners over 60 in the race, and we are all leaning the same way. I call this “runners’ lean.” It usually affects older runners when their muscles become fatigued in long races. My theory is that the muscles get fatigued unequally, or the muscles become unbalanced, or the course is on a slant as in this case. Any or all of these will make you lean. There was a slant to the pavement in this race, and we ran clockwise for all 10 days, which I believe contributed to our leaning problem. I put in 45 miles, accompanied by a lot of whines and whimpers. Day eight. Finally the weather cools after four days of record-breaking heat. I am in pretty rough shape. My feet are badly blistered; I have shin splints, achy knees, and no beer for seven days; and I am bent over so much that my knuckles are almost dragging on the ground. I now stop at a hydrant and nearby bench on each loop; bending over them makes my back feel a little better. I also occasionally lie on the ground, pulling my knees up by grabbing my legs with my hands to form a ball; this also helps until I start walking again. I have tried massages and a chiropractor provided by the race, but nothing helps my back. I talk to my

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wife, Denise, every night, which is a break I very much look forward to. She called Blaine Moore with a report on how I am doing. Blaine puts this online so everyone who is interested can see it. A local newspaper reporter, Kathyrn Skelton, puts it in the paper. Both Blaine and Kathy helped me to raise more money. I also get e-mails delivered by the race volunteers from friends every day. I feel like a Boy Scout getting a letter from home while at summer camp! I’m happy as happy can be to get e-mails. Barbra Sorrell, an ultra friend I met at a different race, stops by with a check for Camp Sunshine. The amount was odd; I don’t remember how much, but it was something like $253.27. She told me why it was such an odd amount—it was money she received unexpectedly, I believe. For her to come down to the race to see me made my day, and the check was a bonus. A painful 48 miles today. Day nine. Today is pretty much like yesterday, my back being my biggest problem by far. There were a few downpours that flooded a small part of the course. Being unable to sleep the last few days because I actually got the chills, plus being sore all over, made it impossible to get comfortable. All the other runners are in the same boat to some extent. Everyone has their own demons. Runners are all very tired, and most have blisters. Blisters are considered a minor problem. Shin splints are very common, along with very swollen legs and feet. Some runners have cut large amounts of the top of their running shoes off. Doing this makes room for their swollen feet; others have switched to wearing sandals. I have several different-size shoes and put on larger ones as my feet swell. I get 42 miles done and now have 31 miles more to do in 24 hours to reach my goal. Day 10. I am down in the dumps mentally and physically, and I’m struggling to stay on my feet and keep moving. Carl and Fay Hunt show up and can’t believe how bent over and terrible I look. Carl and I have done lots of ultras together, but he has never seen me looking so bad. I have given up on getting to 500 miles. Fay, Carl’s wife and a good friend, encourages me to keep going and she does a few laps with me. This really helps lift my spirits. It is now taking me 40 to 60 minutes to do one mile! This sounds insane, but that is the best I can do. A brisk walk is about 16 to 18 minutes for a mile, so some people will have a hard time believing such a slow pace. Stopping to bend over every few hundred feet and lying over a hydrant and bench every lap does not help my pace. I think a tree passed me at 487 miles (smile).

The race finished at noon. We stayed for the award ceremony and a few handshakes with runners and volunteers, and we are headed to Carl’s. I am totally wiped; I cannot even drive. With Carl driving my car and Fay driving theirs, it’s a cold beer and greasy cheeseburger for me. Carl lives in Connecticut, and the plan is for me to stay at his home and drive to Maine the next day. About a quarter mile from Carl’s house, the car in front of us slowed to take

Courtesy of Mike Brooks

▲ The author on the course, dugout on the left, portable toilets on the right. He wears headphones only in 6- and 10-day races, and even then only for a few hours each night.

a right turn and Carl smashed into it. I saw it coming but did not have time to say anything to Carl. It was a minor accident, but my car was suddenly not drivable. As we were waiting for the cops to arrive, Carl’s cell phone rang; it was Andy. Andy asked Carl how I did, and then Carl handed me the phone. Andy said, “You know the agreement, $500 for Camp Sunshine, but only if you did 500 miles?” I start whining to Andy about my back problems and asked Andy for $491. “I am not giving you $491 (pause); I will give you the whole 500.” Well, this made me feel better about the accident. By the time the cop showed up, I was sleeping and looked half dead. The cop asked Carl, “What the hell happened to him?” I had no insurance to pay for damage to my car, and Carl insisted on paying to get it fixed.

Once we were at Carl’s, everyone was going out somewhere and asked if I would be OK. I said yes. A little while later, I got in the tub and fell asleep. I woke up when the water cooled, and the only way I could get out of the tub was to crawl out and then grab onto the sink to get onto my feet. I think, I am getting too old for this 10-day stuff. The next day, Carl gave me a loaner that I drove back to Maine. We agreed that when I came back we would all go into “the City” for some fun. Carl grew up in the Bronx and knows his way around NYC. Our wives wanted to go to a play, but Carl and I did not. I devised a scheme that worked perfectly. I told Denise that Carl hates plays, and I do not want to see him have to go. Carl helped me by picking me up after the race, fixing the car, blah blah. Carl told Fay the same thing about me. It worked; Carl and I went to an Irish pub

while the girls enjoyed the play. When we left our hotel, Carl gave us a tour of his old neighborhood. My $10,000 goal was surpassed by at least $1,000. Mike works for Finishline Sports and helped me get a $3,000 donation from its Youth Foundation. Local 797 of the Auburn firefighters donated $600. A friend of mine, Michele Tribou, made the best donation. Michele had recently opened Heidi’s Brooklyn Deli. She said money was a little tight with the business just starting and would it be OK to donate $500 at a rate of $50 a month. What a sweetheart. I never got a donation like this before—nice. Michele at one time worked at the YMCA. On her last day of work, I brought her some flowers and was giving her a big hug just as my wife walked in. Try to explain that one, especially when I don’t buy Denise flowers often! All the donations I got were special to me. You meet the nicest people raising money for children in need.

And what I learned from it Every person is different. I’m an older runner with lots of experience in multiday races, but 10 days and 491 miles is the longest I’ve ever done. What works for me might not work for others. One piece of advice is to build up to a six-day race before trying a 10-day. A six-day before a 10day is a must, I believe, because even though the math on this philosophy doesn’t sound right, a 10-day race is more than twice as hard as a six-day.

Bring plenty of clothes and gear. Ten days can bring all kinds of different weather. Your feet will swell for sure, so different-size shoes are a must. Almost everyone will get blisters in a 10-day race, so learn how to care for them.

Know when your body needs to rest. If it takes 25 minutes to do a mile that should take 18 or 20, there is no sense doing it. Take a break and come back rested and stronger. Elevating your legs when resting will

help drain liquids and reduce swelling. Take sleep breaks when you feel that staying on course would be less productive. It is easy to overeat when you are doing one-mile loops and seeing delicious food on each lap. I gained almost 10 pounds in a six-day race

once. Eating three meals with snacks and plenty of liquids worked for me at the Sri Chinmoy. I lost 10 pounds of unneeded fat and still supplied my nutritional needs. Take one day at a time. Set goals for each day. If it is really hot, or pour

ing rain, or you are having problems, adjust your goal. Perfect weather, feeling great? Do some extra miles.

Courtesy of Mike Brooks

▲ The greatest ultrarunner of all time, Ted Corbitt, is flanked by two of his admirers, Glen Turner (left) and author Mike Brooks (right), at the 6-day race in 2006.

Nobody does a 10-day race without injuries. Remember that everyone in the race has some type of discomfort, blisters, shin splints, sore knees, backaches, or other problems. Suck it up and tell yourself you can do this, so stop whining. Pain is weakness leaving your body. Try to smile all the time. Thank the volunteers often with that smile on your face. Don’t take yourself seriously; nobody else will. Most runners will do a lot of walking in a 10-day race, so socialize with them. This will make the miles go by faster and help you get your mind off the pain you are probably suffering. Ten-day runners are all a little crazy, so you will enjoy their company and might learn something along the way. Having a good time should be part of your goal. To me, a 10-day race is as tough on your mind as on your body. There were plenty of times when I did not want to get back out on the course but talked myself into continuing. I knew that people were donating to Camp Sunshine by the mile, so this was what really pushed me to keep going. Setting a goal of 500 miles also helped, even though I did not make it. Remember that if you quit, you will remember that for the rest of your life, whereas the pain of continuing is only temporary. Everyone who participates in a 10-day race is a winner except those who quit without a very good reason.