STRADDLING TWO CULTURES

For generations now, it has been bandied about that one of the biggest reasons why American distance runners have failed to make an impact at the sport’s highest levels is that the United States, as a country, has grown soft.

There are too many diversions here, it has been theorized. Athletes from lessprivileged nations simply want it more. They need it more. Consequently, they’re much more willing to put in the work to succeed.

Keflezighi’s standing in this argument is an odd one. When he and his family settled in the San Diego area and began to experience a life filled with what must have surely seemed like limitless diversity, there was nothing mandating that Keflezighi be successful in athletics. There was no farm life from which to escape, no pangs of hunger to drive him onward whenever the pain from running grew unbearable.

Keflezighi’s parents, in fact, would be the first to admit that it was America’s richer educational system that had brought them here from Europe in the first place, not the potential for their offspring to excel in sport.

Somehow, though, Keflezighi found running; perhaps more accurately, running found him.

Keflezighi represents a human bridge. His success in the sport straddles two cultures. While his work ethic, drive, and virtually his entire mind-set seem very much of another continent—say from Ethiopia or Kenya—his career was unmistakably born and came to flourish on American soil.

“From what I’ve seen, he works harder than anybody I know,” says Kastor. “And that’s not just true of his training, it’s true with everything else as well. He’ll just do whatever it takes to succeed.”

“Being careful with what he eats, the plyometrics, the stretching, all the gym work,” says Larsen. “He’ll do all the extra things.”

It can be argued, in fact, that if ever there were a case for an individual to have been driven to distraction, it would have been Keflezighi. By the time he was a teenager, he had lived on three very different continents. Considering everything novel that surely bombarded him when he first set foot in Southern California, his level of commitment and discipline is all the more remarkable.

“T’ve overcome a lot of obstacles,” admits Keflezighi, who hopes to one day parlay his communications and business education into doing motivational speaking at high schools and corporations. “I’d like to help people and show them that things are never as bad as they look at a particular moment.”

For now, though, he has plenty of high-quality running left in his legs.

Kastor, in particular, believes that Keflezighi has barely scratched the surface of his running potential.

© Photo Run

A With their respective medal-winning performances, Team Running USA teammates and good friends, Meb and Deena, put US distance running back on the international map.

“T think he’s going to be incredible in the next few years,” she predicted even before her teammate earned silver in Athens. “Each training period he goes through, he gets faster and stronger and looks more effortless.”

She, like everyone else, is eager to see his future attempts at the 26.2-mile distance.

“As a marathoner, the more experience you get and the more mileage that you can consistently get in, the better off you’re going to be,” Kastor says. “With the training he’s doing right now, he just looks incredible. His work ethic and his consistency are going to continue to get him good results.”

LEAD UP TO A HISTORIC RUN

While still at training camp on Crete after the Olympic Games had started, Keflezighi went to work scribbling postcards.

“There were 38 or so,” he estimates. “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me to get this far, no matter what the outcome.”

His lengthy mailing list included friends, family members, physiologists, physical therapists, and coaches.

“Tt’s not just Meb,” Keflezighi insists. “There are a list of people who are Team Meb. A lot of people work hard for me.”

© Photo Run

Things were coming together for Keflezighi. Training had been going well, and aside from a minor knee problem a few days before he was to run, he had remained relatively injury free. His approach to this, the biggest race of his life, was simple: treat it as just another race.

“Before we left Crete, I felt very certain that he had a real shot at medaling or, in the very least, he’d be very competitive up front,” says Larsen.

Probably the vast majority of the 101 marathoners and their coaches who were in the final stages of preparations, though, felt the same. The Olympic Games are all about defining moments, and every athlete who makes it to sport’s most magnificent stage dreams of pulling off a breakthrough in front of the eyes of the world.

In the months leading up to the marathon, much had been made about the physical challenges the athletes would be facing along the historic route. First there was the heat, then the hills, then the smog, and then, to compound matters, the noxious fumes from the freshly paved asphalt.

When Keflezighi finally saw the course firsthand, however, he confidently predicted that he could run 2:12.

The truth of the matter was that Larsen and Vigil had designed such a demanding schedule for Keflezighi and Kastor back home in Mammoth—one that included a pair of very difficult 26-mile runs after July’s U.S. Track & Field Trials—that anything the two runners faced in Athens would likely pale in comparison.

“T told coach Larsen when I saw the course, “Those are not hills,’” Keflezighi

laughs. ‘““‘From what you guys have prepared us for, those are not hills.

RETRACING THE FOOTSTEPS OF A LEGEND

Keflezighi was in dead last for the first mile or so in what was to become the race of his life.

Everyone in the tightly bunched group was playing things just as conservatively, though, and for good reason considering how the women’s field had gradually withered under the relentless heat and hills just one week before.

But by the time Larsen saw Keflezighi at the 15K mark, he knew that his runner was on.

“T didn’t want him in the front group from the beginning, and I didn’t want him back where Deena was,” Larsen explains. “I wanted him close, and that’s where he was. I said, ‘Perfect,’ and he gave me a thumbs up. From then on, I was completely relaxed.”

“You work hard, you work hard, and you work hard,” says Keflezighi, “and you put in miles and miles, but you’re never sure if you’ll ever have your day.”

This was rapidly turning out to be one of his days.

It Was All Greek to Him

So how does an Olympic marathon coach monitor the progress of his athletes during the most important of all races?

Very haphazardly.

It turns out, in fact, that Bob Larsen’s frustrations with trying to track his runners were not all that different from those of family and friends who struggle to watch their favorite midpack marathoners in far less prestigious events.

“| was in a car going through the countryside,” Larsen explains. “They said you couldn’t do it, but | found ways. The course was closed, but you drive like a madman over the country roads. It’s just by dead reckoning, really, because there weren’t even any names on the maps. There were just little etchings.”

You would think that coaches like Larsen would have been cut a better deal, but he and others were forced to rely on their cell phones to keep on top of developing situations.

Larsen was able to catch Deena Kastor four times during her run to offer her updates, but he couldn’t quite manage that many contacts for the three American men.

The streets surrounding Panathinaiko Stadium were understandably mobbed, so Larsen knew he didn’t stand a prayer of getting close to being able to view the end of either race. The closest he could get by car for the women’s race was about 5K before the finish. And by the time he made it inside the stadium, Kastor was nowhere to be found.

He had a little better luck after Meb Keflezighi’s race. Once Larsen finally reached the stadium the second time around and Greek security forces learned that he was the trainer for the silver medalist, they more than made up for subjecting him to such logistical nightmares by whisking him through all limited-access zones.

“Suddenly, everyone mobilized,” Larsen laughs. “Over there, you’re like a rock star when you run well. People are just very emotional about stuff like that, especially the men’s marathon and the historical significance of it.”

Keflezighi grew more and more comfortable with each passing mile. Heat or no heat, hills or no hills, competitive field or no competitive field, he knew that things were going his way. He could feel it in his legs—and in his heart.

“Halfway through the race, I knew I was probably going to get top 10,” Keflezighi says. “But at the same time, I was thinking, Wait, those other guys have run a lot faster than me. When are they going to make a move?”

As it turned out, the ones making most of the moves when the running turned to racing were eventual gold medalist Stefano Baldini and Keflezighi.

“T knew I was going to have a fabulous day when I was in fourth place,” says Keflezighi. “Worst-case scenario was I would finish fourth, but with five miles to go I was ecstatic anyway. I told myself, Well, if I can just beat one more guy I’ve got a medal.”

As it turns out, Keflezighi was destined to outrace all but one.

Keflezighi never did hit The Wall. He had opened with a 16:05 first 5K, but he sealed the deal with a 14:20 last SK.

He credits Baldini with helping to make the race happen and for making his move at the right time. The difficulties Keflezighi dealt with in the latter miles of New York were still in the back of his mind, so he reluctantly allowed Baldini to forge ahead.

“That was the hardest part—letting him go. The question was to go for the gold and take a risk—maybe get caught again and get the bronze or not even finish in the medals. With about a mile to go, I tried to go for it, but he was too far ahead.”

A RUN FOR THE AGES

A silver medal at the Olympic Games.

Yes, Keflezighi has been painstakingly nurturing a running base for a great many years in the hope that, given the right set of circumstances, he might—just might—be able to produce such a glorious bloom. But there is no shortage of talented runners who have similarly put in the work only to have fallen short.

For Keflezighi’s part, the significance of what he accomplished didn’t begin to sink in until after the closing ceremonies. The full impact may not hit home for many years to come.

“My parents are getting phone calls from all over the world,” he says. ““Everyone’s expressing joy for what I did. It’s bigger than I thought it was.”

It’s frustrating that to a great many viewers the lasting images from the most important footrace at the Athens Olympiad won’t be Baldini and Keflezighi’s stirring duel along history’s most famous marathon route, but rather a spectator’s bizarre disruption of the competition.

The sport of marathoning deserves better.

American fans, in particular, should revel in the fact that they were treated to a dynamic display of running by one of their own, the likes of which hasn’t been seen at the Olympics in generations.

That nearly all of the competitors were deliberate in their pacing during the early stages of the race was no surprise.

That Keflezighi was such a major force behind accelerating the chase pack after Vanderlei de Lima had begun to move away was not too much of a surprise either, especially given the American’s brash assertiveness in New York.

To watch Keflezighi shrug off decades of U.S. frustration in Olympic Games men’s marathoning with the ease of one slipping out of a racing singlet, however—now that was something to behold.

There are no two ways about it: this field of 101 athletes was stacked. Most of the prerace attention, of course, centered on world record holder Paul Tergat, but no fewer than three dozen sub-2:10 marathoners toed the line, including the likes of South Korea’s Bong-Ju Lee, a champion at Boston, and Moroccan Jaouad Gharib, who captured the 2003 World Championships in Paris.

It was a marathon-seasoned crowd, and many of the participants had dedicated their entire running focus into mastering the 42-kilometer distance.

It was Keflezighi, though—a runner still very much in the prime of his track career—who was dictating a huge chunk of the action as the group progressed into the hills and the race became an actual race. He and eventual winner Stefano Baldini produced monster negative splits, with Keflezighi covering the first half of the race in 1:07:40 and rolling through the second in 1:03:49.

Keflezighi’s memorable run was a synthesis of everything he had learned in his three previous marathon efforts.

In New York, he had proven to himself that he could compete with the leaders. In Chicago, he discovered that he did indeed possess the patience to go the distance. In Birmingham, he realized that he was stronger both physically and mentally than he could have imagined.

And on the evening of August 29, over the course of a magical 2 hours, 11 minutes, and 29 seconds, Keflezighi put it all together in the form of a striking blossom whose vibrancy will endure for many, many years to come.

IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY

The drought is over.

From Sandoval and Durden to Pfitzinger and Salazar; from Conover and Eyestone to Kempainen, Coogan, DeHaven, and De La Cerda.

Ever since the glory days of the 1970s, America’s male Olympic marathoners have been the objects of ridicule and derision—particularly in their own country. It was drilled into their consciousness that no matter how many triple-digit training weeks they strung together and no matter what physical and emotional sacrifices they made, they would never be able to compete with the Kenyans, Japanese, or Ethiopians.

Their efforts, no matter how prodigious, were treated with scorn by the media, by the casual observer, and, sad to say, even by many devotees of the sport.

Four years after the state of U.S. Olympic marathoning reached its nadir, though—when both the men’s and women’s marathon squads competing in Sydney consisted of exactly one runner each—all that has changed.

Culpepper’s impressive 12″-place performance, which was overshadowed by Keflezighi’s feat, was reason enough to celebrate. But a bronze and a silver medal to boot?

“It gives people hope,” says Larsen, “and that’s what we attempted to do from 2000. All of a sudden, we got a third of the medals. We’re the only country that got two. All of a sudden, we’re a marathoning country again.”

Legend holds that when Pheidippides finally reached Athens to announce the overmatched Greek army’s improbable military victory, he

A Keflezighi ran from dead last in the first mile to second place, in what was to become the race of his life.

announced, “Rejoice, we have conquered!”

But legends are often based more on fiction than on fact.

Reality, on the other hand, holds that when Keflezighi faced reporters on the night of his equally improbable victory, he announced, “USA running is back.”

For sure, what the world witnessed in Athens by no means guarantees that American runners will reach the awards podium at every major marathon. It is, though, something on which to continue building—something very, very satisfying on which to continue building.

“It’s been my vision to be a part of the resurgence of U.S. distance running,” says Keflezighi. “People start to believe. If Meb can do it, why can’t I do it?”

Rejoice, it’s a beautiful day.

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How They Train

Meb Keflezighi still very much considers himself a track athlete, but he would like to run at least one marathon per year. He recently announced that he will be running in the 2004 ING New York City Marathon.

“| don’t believe in putting all my eggs in one basket,” Keflezighi says.“I like to diversify. | like to have fun.”

Keflezighi believes that the biggest difference between a 2:10 guy and a 2:05 guy is focused preparation.

“lim committed to training, but | don’t feel like doing the 16 to 17 weeks to get ready for one,” he explains.“When | become specifically a marathon runner, I’ll do that. But for now I’m fine with the 10K and all the other road races that fit into the schedule.”

“He hasn’t gone crazy on his distances,” says Larsen.“He doesn’t run as much mileage as a lot of the top guys in the world are doing. We’re being careful. We want to keep building.”

When preparing specifically for the marathon, as Keflezighi did before Birmingham and Athens, the emphasis is on a little more volume and more frequent tempo runs, which are pushed up to 12 or 15 miles.

“We’ll extend them a little bit longer,” Larsen says of the tempo runs.“Sometimes we’ll put in an extra long run during the week in lieu of anaerobic interval-type workouts.”

Keflezighi runs seven days a week, generally doubling up from Tuesday through Thursday. His Sunday long runs are usually in the 20- to 25-mile range.

Most of Keflezighi’s training is running specific.When the need arises, though, he will cross-train on a mountain bike or in the pool. As shown by his performance in Birmingham, he will put just as much energy into his nonrunning time as he will when he’s cranking out 115- to 120-mile weeks.

“He’ll work really hard on cross-training when it’s called for,” says Larsen.“He’s very disciplined in everything that he does, and he repeats it over and over again. It makes him very consistent.When he shows up for a race, you’re going to get his “A’ race almost every time.”

“You’ve got to realize that injuries are part of the game,” says Keflezighi.”You’ve got to keep your energy and focus.”

“In terms of running, have fun with it and listen to your body,” Keflezighi suggests.“When you need to take it easy, take it easy. When you have friends to go 20 or 21 miles, go for it. Enjoy their company. Make plans on a day- F

to-day basis, instead of just what’s on paper.” 3

A Marathoner’s Next Frontier

A Marathon Goes Only So Far, but There Is a Whole World Beyond 26.2.

ongratulations! You just finished a marathon, the one you’ve been diligently training for over the past many months.

So how did you feel after crossing the finish line? Like going another five or 50 miles? Probably not. If you’re like most people, after the initial exhilaration of finishing wears off, you just want to get your medal and sit down for a good, long rest. After all, you just ran 26.2 miles! Isn’t that enough?

For some people, the answer is a resounding no.

More and more people are taking that next giant step into ultrarunning. For the uninitiated, ultras are anything longer than 26.2 miles—but ultras really start at a distance of 50K (31.1 miles).

That said, many hard-core ultrarunners say an ultra has to be at least 50 miles.

While races vary, other common ultraruns are 100K and 100 miles—and beyond.

Rather than set a specific distance, other ultras set a specific time. There are 8-, 12-, 24-, and even 48-hour races. Beyond these there are six-day races. Marty Malin is race director of the Badgerland 12- and 24-hour runs in Greendale, Wisconsin. Over the past 21 years, Badgerland has had anywhere from a dozen to two dozen people a year trying to see just how far they can run in a 12- or 24hour period. Most of the time the race is held on a track. You got it: round and round and round, switching direction every three hours to balance the stress on the ankles and knees. Just how many times around? Well, the most anyone has done at Badgerland in 24 hours is Roy Pirrung. He ran 555 laps—137.99 miles.

People generally turn to ultras after they’ve done a few marathons or more and want a new challenge. But there’s more to it than just seeing how far they can push their bodies. It’s a different kind of race atmosphere.

Ultraraces tend to be more low key with far fewer people. There are no ultraraces with tens of thousands of participants like a Boston or New York City Marathon. It’s more like tens of people or, in the largest ultraraces, hundreds of people.

What may be the biggest attraction of ultras is that they are mostly off road.

Atlanta runner Sandy Geisel says that’s why she started running ultras. “I just love trails and couldn’t find many trail runs at shorter distances. The extra miles just add to the challenge,” she says.

Janice Anderson, who has finished in the top three in the Western States 100mile endurance run more than once, is the president of GUTS, the Georgia Ultra Trail Society. She founded the club to get more people involved and to help get people acquainted with trails. She says ultras are the natural next step for that person looking for a new challenge after conquering the 26.2-mile distance, but it’s the atmosphere that keeps them in the sport. “Once people do one ultra and see how much fun it is to get out there on the trails and enjoy the countryside, they’re usually hooked,” says Anderson.

Living in Boulder, Colorado, ultrarunner Danny Abshire says it’s all about the surroundings. “Being outdoors, in the woods, there’s always a new challenge in the mountains. Sometimes you have to jump over logs, waddle through creeks, or

power hike instead of run. It’s a whole different world of running. It’s about running, hiking, listening to your body. It’s much more of a mental game,” he says.

TRAINING

If you do long runs at 20 miles to train for a marathon, does that mean you have to run 40 miles to train for a 50-miler? Not necessarily. Coaches say your weekly training runs won’t change that much, but of course you will have to build the duration of your long runs. It might be a combination of running and hiking, but you physically and mentally have to get used to being out there for a long period of time.

As always, training theories abound, and what works for one person may not work for someone else. One of the most common training strategies is to run for time instead of miles and do two back-to-back long runs, for example, a long run of five or six hours on Saturday followed by a two- to three-hour run on Sunday.

Other ultra coaches recommend going out for one very long run of six to eight hours, with walking – breaks of 15 minutes each hour.

With either plan, mix in some walking so your body gets used to it. It’s a chance to refuel as well as give your muscles a break from the steady pounding of a run.

Whether it’s a marathon or ultra, it’s always wise to mimic the conditions of your race as closely as possible during training. Since most ultraraces are on trails, train on trails or in the mountains if that is where your race will take place.

GUTS member Sally Brooking at the Grand

Plus, depending on the length of the race and your pace, keep in mind that you may be running in the dark and the early-morning hours of the next day. Abshire says he will start some of his training runs at midnight. “After a long day at work, when I’m already exhausted, I’ll start a long run. Yes, it’s dark, but if I have a 26-hour race at some point, I’ll be running in the dark and already be tired. The early-morning hours are when it’s toughest for everyone. It’s dark and it’s lonely. For people who haven’t experienced this, this is the time they’re most apt to quit.” He says being out when it’s pitch dark makes you mentally tougher. He advises others that if they haven’t been up for 24 hours since their college midterm exams, to give it a try.

If you’re going for one of the 12- or 24-hour races held on a track, you should do most of your long training runs on a track or similar short circle. Mentally, you have to get used to doing the same thing over and over again. Physically, you have to get used to using the same muscle groups with few, if any, ups and downs over the same pattern. “Many people tend to get into a rhythm during the race such as running three to seven laps then walking a lap. This should be practiced during training runs as well,” advises Malin.

SLOW(ER) AND STEADY

If you’ve ever raced a 10K and sprinted at the start only to slow to a crawl at mile five—and who hasn’t gone out too fast?—then you should start changing the way you think about racing before you send in your application for an ultra. It doesn’t matter how fast you are, sprinting the first mile or two of a 100-miler will do nothing good for you.

In a distance this far, too many things can go wrong, from twisting an ankle to not being properly hydrated. There are too many miles and too many hours for everything to go exactly right.

HURTS SO GOOD

What may be most surprising is that ultrarunners say after completing a longdistance race that they often feel better than after running a marathon. Abshire says: “I’m definitely less beat up after an ultra than when I run a fast road marathon. For one, I’m on a softer surface; also, there’s a lot of walking involved. It’s a slower pace in general, so my body doesn’t build up as much lactic acid.”

REFUELING AND REHYDRATING

You may be able to get through a marathon with a packet or two of gel, but when you’re running 50 miles or longer, it’s crucial to pay attention to nutrition and hydration.

» Janice Anderson at an aid station during the Western States 100.

Running six or seven hours, you’re going to have to eat something. It’s recommended you try to eat small amounts at least once an hour. Depending on your body and the conditions, 200 to 300 calories per hour is a good goal. Many times the aid stations have foods you probably don’t see in a 10K race, like boiled potatoes, soup, and flat soda pop. Some aid stations can be quite extravagant. The Arkansas Traveler 100 is known for having tables with everything you can imagine. How does a fajita or a hamburger sound? Or maybe even a margarita?

Wear a fanny pack during training runs and stock it with various foods—OK, you might want to leave the margarita mix at home—but include foods that are salty and some that are sweet to respond to your cravings and see what your

stomach can handle.

Of course, regular drinking goes without saying. In the Badgerland 12- and 24-hour run, Malin puts a scale next to the aid station. People are encouraged to weigh in every three or four hours. If they’re losing weight, they know to replenish. If they’re losing too much weight, Malin will pull them out of the race. “That gives them more incentive to properly hydrate and race smarter,” says Malin. Just as in running a marathon, don’t wait until you’re thirsty. Have a plan, decide before the race how much and when you will drink, and stick to the plan.

GEAR TO GO

Long runs take a lot of planning. You’ll also have to consider the terrain, weather, and possibly darkness. That means you’ll have to pack some extra gear.

Read the race guidelines ahead of time to see what you’ ll need. If aid stations will be more than an hour apart, you’ll want to wear a fanny pack with food or gels and wear a hydration pack.

Depending on the length of the race, think about bringing an extra pair of shoes and socks. Anderson, who has done more than 80 ultras, says it’s best to be prepared for anything. Her fanny pack has the absolute necessities. “I have Advil, electrolyte tablets, gels, ChapStick, sunscreen, sometimes a Clif Bar, or even sandwiches,” she reports. In her car she keeps a gearbox stocked with bug spray, Body Glide, blister kits, sunglasses, and a hat.

You also have to consider what to wear. It’s always best to dress in layers. If you’re running a mountain ultra, you may need long sleeves and gloves for the higher elevations. Sometimes gloves can be useful during the whole race for climbing over stumps or to protect your hands in case you fall.

If you’re running through the night, think about a light. Even Anderson, who has a PR of 16:03 for a 100-miler, is running in the dark at some point. Several types of lights are on the market. Headlights, handheld lights, and lights you can wear around your waist or arm are available. If you haven’t run with a light, it’s another thing you want to try out during training runs. Sometimes the lights can be mesmerizing because of the bobbing of the light and your body, especially if you’re tired. Of course, wear all of these gadgets in training just to make sure the packs and accessories are comfortable and don’t rub you the wrong way, and so that you can learn to adjust and service the gadgets on the run and in the dark.

A LITTLE HELP FROM YOUR FRIENDS

Most races allow you to have a crew. If this is possible, your crew can help in more ways than one. While there are rules, such as the crew can meet you only at certain points in the race or at specific aid stations, the crew can do wonders for your mind, body, and spirit.

The crew can have available an extra pair of shoes and socks or that special treat you know you’ll be craving halfway through the race. Sometimes, if you’ve been on the course for a while and you let your blood sugar drop, the crew can pick up on that just by looking at you. They’ll be able to remind you to eat and drink. And it goes without saying that just seeing the smiling, familiar face of a special buddy or spouse along the course can be a great morale booster.

RUNNING WILD

There’s a lot you have to think about when running an ultra that you wouldn’t even consider when running an event like the Los Angeles Marathon. You have to put some of your commonsense skills into play.

Running in the mountains, you have to know what to do to avoid being struck by lightning when one of the many thunderstorms pops up. It’s recommended you crouch down in a ball, roll up on the balls of your feet, and cover your ears.

Also, be aware of what type of wildlife you might encounter on long training runs or even during races. In 1994, 40-year-old Barbara Schoener was running on

the American River Canyon Trail near Auburn, California. She was training for the Western States 100 when she was attacked and killed by a mountain lion. This is rare, but bears, mountain lions, and snakes are out there. These are circumstances that may not even cross your mind if you live in New York City or Washington, D.C., where you are more likely to be concerned about being mugged for your running shoes; but they’re definitely something to think about if you plan to do a 100-mile trail race through the woods or in the mountains.

You need to be alert and aware of your surroundings while at the same time watching your footing on the trails. You have to be extra diligent, especially during dawn and dusk, the most precarious times, because that’s when the wildlife is more active and when it is more difficult to see well.

HEAD GAMES

Ultrarunning engages the mind more than shorter races do. And you need a solid mind/body connection. The most successful ultrarunners tend to be more in tune with their bodies. They tend to listen to their bodies and know what they need and when it’s time to fuel up.

They are able to recognize pain and determine whether it’s the kind of pain that will pass or that will lead to injury. Abshire says he dropped out of a 100-miler

Printer: Insert Reebok dealer listing ad

at mile 86.5. “I knew I could come back next year. I didn’t want to injure myself just for the goal. There’s always another race,” he concludes.

There is no doubt that hours and hours of running can take a mental toll. Abshire says you have to stay in the moment. “You can’t think too far ahead; you have to be happy with where you are, whether it’s mile 10, 20, or 99, and be able to relax your body and your mind.”

Running that many hours, you’re likely going to have a number of small setbacks, from losing your food pack to forgetting your sunscreen or missing your crew at a designated spot. It can be frustrating and you can get angry, but there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s just a life experience. You have to stay calm and not dwell on it. If you do, it will cause emotional and physical stress and lead to a downward spiral in your running.

THE LONELY ROAD

Ultras can get lonely. Even if you’re doing one of the larger races, with several hundred people, the runners spread out, and

you may go for three or four hours without — Ss

seeing anyone else. There is a section of the Leadville Trail 100 nicknamed the Big Lonesome. It’s a section where you can see the 12,000-foot mountain you have to go over in front of you, but it’s 40 miles away. Depending on your pace, you might be out there alone. It’s very quiet, just you and nobody else. If you’re OK with that, it can be comforting. If you’re not, it can be stressful.

On the flip side, during the 12- and 24-hour races, people are always available to run with and talk to. At any time, you can be talking to the lead runner or the slowest runner out there. On every lap, you see your friends and family near the aid station.

Malin says, “It’s like one big happy family. You get to see everyone, and you’re always less than a quarter of a mile from the aid stations.”

» Gene Turnipseed, 72, at the Badgerland 12 & 24 Hour Run.

A KINDER, GENTLER RUNNER

When you’re out on the trails, you really get to know your fellow runners. “There’s a bonding that is just impossible to experience in a 10K or even a marathon. In general, the people who do ultras are quite helpful,’ says Anderson.

It’s not that there’s no competitiveness, but runners tend to help each other more than competitors in other events.

It could be the fact that everyone is trying to conquer a huge distance, the “we’re all in this together” mentality, and racers are more apt to assist a fellow runner along the trail.

“Everyone is in pain and suffering on some level; if you see someone who is worse off than you feel at the moment, you’re likely to see whether they need help. Stopping for a minute or two to help someone is minuscule in the course of a nine- or 10-hour race,” says Abshire.

BELIEVERS

So, can it be done? Of course it can. People have been doing it for years. But ow long would it take to run a 50-miler? If you really need a rule of thumb, double your marathon time and add a couple of hours. So if you run a 3 1/2-hour marathon, your 50-miler would be about nine hours.

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4 Dan Roberdeau, 60, at the Badgerland 12 & 24 Hour Run.

Others say that’s completely out of the question because there are too many extenuating circumstances.

Of course, running on trails, hiking over mountains, and climbing over logs will definitely slow you down. The experts say that for your first ultra, your goal should be merely to finish. Enjoy the time you’re out there and forget about the clock.

Anderson says the biggest secret to ultras is “people need to believe they can do it.” So, if you’re looking for that next big race, give an ultra a try. After all, what’s another five miles on top of a marathon? Or, for that matter, another 73.8 miles? It’s anew goal, a new adventure, and one more running challenge to be conquered.

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26.2, Four Ounces at a Time

Marathoning the Medoc Way.

fter 80 marathons, it was easy for me to believe that I pretty much had the marathon experience all figured out. The scenery would vary somewhat, the hills would be steeper or lower or not present at all, and the crowds might differ in size and enthusiasm, but the overall experience would always basically be the same. There would be an adrenaline rush at the blast of the starting gun. There would be early optimism, shouts of support, and periodic aid stations. There would be eventual fatigue, perhaps blisters, perhaps a cramp or two. There would inevitably be a moment of truth, accompanied by teeth gritting, and then perseverance, and euphoria at the finish line. This is the beauty of the marathon—its predictability and its simplicity. You just run 26.2 miles as fast as you can, and if you do it right, there are usually precious few surprises along the way.

Min ‘CRON DES CHATEAU X DU MEDO« RETHaNT DES oOSSARDS

MLON OFS CHATEALX Dil MEBOC

Courtesy of Jeff Horowitz

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Or so I thought. Then I heard about a marathon that is different from all the others, one whose name brings a smile to the face of those who are in the know: the Marathon des Chateaux du Medoc, or, as it is more commonly and simply called, “Medoc.” If the marathon is the serious-minded older sibling of running, then Medoc is the wild child, looking for the nearest party. In a sport defined by discipline, Medoc is the Dionysian exception, a race that is more revelry than competition.

Created in 1985 as a tour for a group of athletic wine connoisseurs, the race meanders along roads and trails of 59 vineyards in Pauillac, in the Bordeaux region of southern France, by the shores of the river Gironde. To say that it is just a race through wine country, though, is like saying that Mardi Gras is just a celebration of Fat Tuesday, because the organizers have turned the marathon into a uniquely local creation: a celebration of the senses. It has become famous for wine and food stations along the course, for the outlandish costumes worn by its participants, and for music along the route. Even the race materials caution you to think of the race as being more of a tour than a competition. It is truly what Ermest Hemingway named Paris: a moveable feast.

A MOVEABLE FEAST, INDEED

I first heard of Medoc almost 10 years ago in a newspaper article that took a “look what those crazy foreigners are up to now” approach to reporting on the race. While most marathons are a 26-mile adventure, Medoc sounded more like it needed a 12-step program. But I was more intrigued than dismayed. It sounded like the Shangri-La of running, and I knew that someday I would have to experience it for myself.

That day took longer to arrive than I would have guessed. Several obstacles became immediately apparent. First, simply getting into the race proved to be difficult. Like most chronic marathoners, I had become accustomed to having to compete with other applicants to get a number in the top races. These races offered enough numbers, though, to give us all hope: 18,000 slots, or 25,000, or 35,000. Not so with Medoc. The narrow lanes make a huge field of marathoners impossible, so the race is limited to only 8,000 participants. To race Medoc, you have to commit early and keep your fingers crossed.

The second issue is one of logistics. I was unable to find any direct flights from the United States to Bordeaux. The best that I could arrange was to fly direct to Paris and then take either a connecting flight or a bullet train to Bordeaux. And on arrival, the difficulties don’t end. Pauillac is far from the Bordeaux city center, and lodging is very limited. The only workable option seemed to be to stay in the city and arrange for a driver to take me for the nearly 90-minute-long ride to the race start.

Surmounting these problems was challenging, and each year there seemed to be some reason why I couldn’t go. Still, I was never put off the scent entirely; I still wanted Medoc, and as the years passed by, I still would not give up hope. And then suddenly, the opportunity arose: a friend with connections was putting together a team and had worked out all the details. She wanted to know whether I would come along. I didn’t want to appear overeager, so I made her sweat for perhaps three or four seconds before I gave my answer: Yes! I would do it!

A LOGICAL TRAINING PLAN. YEAH, RIGHT!

Having received a helping hand to get over those logistical hurdles, I now settled into deciding on a training plan. Knowing that Medoc is no ordinary marathon, I wondered whether I needed to alter my usual training routine. Speed work is usually a part of my regular marathon preparation, and speed can pay off handsomely in Medoc, where I had heard rumors that the winners in each age category receive their weight in wine. I’m not an elite runner, though, so a fast marathon would leave me without the winner’s prize and also without full enjoyment of the race’s amenities. And even if I could somehow miraculously take first place, I don’t think I would be able to survive the reward, even with the help of my friends. With this in mind, I decided on a more leisurely approach to the race. I happily crossed speed work off of my to-do list. So far, so good.

The next issue seemed thornier. How does one prepare to drink wine during a race? I considered adding alcohol to my training regimen, but I was unable to find any advice on how to do this. Should I slowly increase my intake week to week, along with my mileage, using the 10 percent rule? Would it matter what kind of wine I trained with? In a moment of clarity and decisiveness, I decided to scrap the whole idea; I would build up a solid running base and let the race-day drinking take care of itself on the assumption that I either would or would not survive it and that no prerace regimen would change that.

Nonetheless, while there was no information I could find on training for Medoc, I did find plenty of advice on how to actually run the race. The first bit of wisdom that I came across was to skip wine altogether for the first half of the race, on the theory that if I should then encounter any ill effects from wine tasting, I would be close enough to the end to successfully make it across the finish line.

The second bit of advice I came across cautioned that I should not actually swallow the wine. Instead, I should swirl the wine in my mouth like a professional taster and then spit it out. This would theoretically give me the pleasure of experiencing the wine without getting drunk, the reasoning being, I presume, that being drunk diminishes the chances of crossing the finish line.

Another bit of strategy that was recommended to me was to simply run the race in a straightforward manner: no funny business, no wine, no food, no

partying. Then, after coming across the finish line, I could make my way back on the course to the aid stations and eat and drink to my heart’s content.

WHEN IN FRANCE, DO … WHATEVER

These all seemed like very well-reasoned strategies. Naturally, I decided to ignore every one of them. I did not plan to run Medoc carefully and strategically; that just didn’t seem to be true to the spirit of the race. Spitting out wine instead of fully enjoying it seemed like marrying a beautiful woman and sleeping in separate bedrooms. And as for backtracking the course after running hard, well, my legs seem to have some kind of Pavlovian intuition. When they cross a finish line, they know the race is over, and they don’t like to run after that. No, there would be no wine teasings for me or a breaking apart of the race into two separate events. I wanted to experience the race fully and let the chips fall where they may. Since the marathon is usually 90 percent preparation and planning, this devil-may-care approach was unfamiliar and even a bit scary. And perhaps because of that, it was also exhilarating.

There was, however, one more issue I would have to consider before making my way to the starting line: what to wear. Usually this is a simple matter of shorts and singlet in warm weather, graduating through different combinations until I come to tights, gloves, and a hat, with a long-sleeve top and jacket in the coldest weather. However, Medoc, of course, demanded a different approach. The

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