Humility is an interesting trait; especially for this day in age when the entire world seems to be in a constant cycle of proving themselves better for no reason in particular. All it takes is one look around the streets: people flaunting wealth with expensive cars and jewelry. The majority of reality shows have people just bragging how awesome they are, (most) sports stars' interviews are chock full of self-praising anecdotes. It’s quite saddening to say the least.
The beauty of the ultra running community, aside from being a great group of like-minded-people who enjoy the mountains, is the fact that everyone’s humility is overwhelming. Standing around before the run in the Short Mountain/Elizabeth Furnace parking lot there was chatter about various people who had just completed some incredible running feats in preparation for other great running feats. I won’t name names mainly because I think they wouldn’t want me to. One guy just finished The White Oak Trail 100 (TWOT) last weekend. Solo. They actually changed the course so it turned out to be roughly 108 miles with 28,000 feet of elevation gain. There were rumors of the winds over-night gusting to 70 mph along the ridges. The organizer pointed this out. His response as he aimed his gaze downward while fiddling with his heart-rate monitor? “It wasn’t a record, but thank you.” He did, however, come within 15 minutes of it on an 8-mile-longer course. Impressive to say the least. He did this in preparation for the Barkley Marathons next month. If you don’t know about Barkley, look it up.
I ran with a friend for the whole 30 miles on Saturday. He is an accomplished ultra-runner, though of course, he’d never admit to it. Part of what makes his success remarkable is the fact that he has a rare condition that causes seizures multiple times per month. Once, he was in the middle of a 100k race where there was a 50k going on at the same time. The 50 and 100k were on the same course for the first half and on the way to the 50k turnaround he had a seizure. He decided to switch to the 50k vs. the 100 and still won the race. Of course, I didn’t get this from him. His comment? “I was lucky the race directors were nice enough to let me switch mid-race.” He considers himself lucky because though he may have some trouble sometimes and is not able to drive, he can still run. His mom and dad have difficulty at times as well, who have MS and rather severe scoliosis respectively and ran a 50 miler together recently.
At the finish line parking lot, a group of us hung out while people trickled in. There was a guy getting ready to run the Iditarod 350 mile foot race. (Yes, that is the race the sled dogs run.) He has already run the Arrowhead 135 (all in snow) and one other long snow race (that I forgot). He answered questions very matter-of-factly about the sled he has to pull with all of his gear but never once did he seem egotistical about his answers.
Of course, pretty much everyone there has a rather impressive background. There was the woman who finished Western States 100 and then 2 weeks later finished Badwater...more than once. There was the rather accomplished old ultra runner who rode his bike 30 miles that day (one way) just to bring his friend apple-sauce. And there was a guy who has finished Massanutten twice, both within 5 minutes of the cut off.
Normally, the beauty of the mountains humbles me enough. But I left on Saturday feeling extra refreshed and with a new sense of respect for our whole mountain-running culture. Maybe it was the 30 beautiful mountain miles, but I think it was the refreshing personalities that this sport tends to attract. I think the rest of the world could learn a few things from the ultra running community.
picture by Tom (VHTRC)