A couple of weeks ago I had the good fortune to run the Mokelumne River 50 Mile trail race in Camanche Lake, California (about 2.5 hours east of San Francisco). The race was put on by the relatively new Sierra Nevada Trail Runs group. This was the very first time the Mokelumne River race has been held.
I’ve run a few 50 milers before, but this was the first for me in about seven years. This one began as they all do, in pre-dawn shivering cold. The average runner will usually take around 12 hours or so to complete a 50 (which translates to 12 min/miles- all day). Because no one wants to see exhausted runners staggering around alone in the dark, these races begin early so they can end early.
The beginning of these trail runs are so refreshing compared to other athletic events. Only about 30 people ran. The smallness of these groups lends itself to an intimacy, which is nice. Overhearing conversations about the exact percentage mix of carb/protein for optimal nutrition, the best source of glutamine, or the proper way to alter commercial manufactured running shoes, one gets a sense this is a select tribe… a chosen group of people doing exactly what it is they were put on the earth to do. These people eat, breath, and sleep running, and would prefer to do nothing else.
Speaking of the people, they’re a strange looking bunch. Running vast, vast distances at crawling paces typically doesn’t lend itself to an average body shape. The folks I see have legs like tree trunks, arms like bicycle spokes, and stomachs designed to process the 8,000 calories required to roll a ball of hands, feet, knees and jowls 50 miles.
But it’s after the race director’s barked ‘Go’ that the true grace of the runners reveals itself. These are the kind of people who film themselves running, care about form, and are its embodiments. Runners don’t so much run as they float slightly above the trail, soaring above the trail’s jagged rocks, slippery moss, and sloppy cow patties.
The trail was a beautiful one. It’s wildflower season in California now and they surrounded us. Not content to relegate themselves to being merely beautiful, they throw their perfume into the air and cast a net of fragrance which somehow strangles the stank of ten hours of sustained physical activity which clung to (at least my) body. And the trail was a mountainous one. About 12,000 feet of climb with an accompanying 12,000 feet of descent- roughly equivalent to hiking down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back- three times.
When the trail heads downhill the thing to do is ride it down the side of the mountain… not so much a jog as a controlled fall. When the trail heads uphill the thing to do is to crawl up it on one’s hands and knees and curse fate.
I was alone on this run, but the team continues its training for the trek to the Pole. We’ve collectively made a commitment to be in the best shape of our lives, and we’re determined to do so. Today’s run was great from a physical perspective… I ran 11.5 hours, which is how long we’re going to have to ski every single day for the 50-60 days it will take us to reach the Pole.
More importantly, however, is the mental training runs like this provide. One has to accept that no how one feels, nothing is going to make it all end except crossing the miles. Success isn’t defined by a hunger for the finish- rather, it comes from an unquenchable joy in the process.
Speaking of process, what’s next? I’m going to be running the San Francisco marathon on 31 July- if you’re reading this I hope you can join me. Polar Vision has a joint venture in the works with the SF marathon we’re hoping to tell you all about shortly. Before then, and after, then, I don’t know. Crossing that 40 mile mark last Saturday awakened something in me… I absolutely have to do a few more of those, and soon.
Hope to see you on the trails!
Andrew
