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)
Great post dude
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