The Wolf's Eyelash - by John Prohira
"The gulf between what we feel we are doing and what others perceive us to
be doing will remain the most ultra of all distances, one that no amount of
miles or words can finally bridge". -- Hart.
So with that in mind and the following story, I'll still try to describe one
of last year's late summer's weekends. I'll begin with a story/poem by
Clarissa Pinkola Estes. This is a tale of a maiden and a wolf. The maiden
is warned about risk and taking unwarranted chances, she is told not to go
into the woods alone because it was dangerous and there lives the wolf. But
she feels the need to see for herself and is drawn to the wild of the
forest, she must go to learn what she will. She happens upon the wolf
caught in a leg trap and who implores her for help. At first the maiden is
hesitant, "How do I know that you will not eat me the moment I release
you?" she asks. "Wrong question" was the snared wolf's reply,
"You must take me at my word that I won't". Of course the sensitive
and caring maiden takes that chance and unhinges the trap from about the
wolf's leg, steps back and awaits her fate. But this was a wolf from another
time and place and instead of eating her he plucked a lash from over his eye
and gave it to her saying, "As a reward for your kindness and listening
to your heart use this and be wise. From now on you will know who is good and
not so good, just look through my eyes and you will see clearly". She
found that by peering through the wolf's eyelash she could discern the true
motives of others, not only could she see the sly and cruel, but the good and
worthwhile. She began to grow immense in her heart for she looked at others
and weighed them anew through the gift the rescued wolf had given her. She
had taken a chance, a noble risk and had gained from the experience.
And what pray tell has a wolf's eyelash to do with running? Bear with me if
you will. It's kind of like Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant when he
tells you one story so he can tell you another. As an end of summer
celebration the family and I traveled to Haliburton, Ontario over the long
Labor Day weekend. This small town lay about 150 miles northwest of
Toronto, East of the Georgian Bay, the further North we traveled on Friday
the smaller the towns became and denser the forest, I had never been this
far North before. We rented a cottage at the Silver Eagle Resort which was
1/2 hour by car south of the Haliburton Forest and the start of a 100 Mile
Trail Race I'd entered. The resort consisted of 14 cozy cottages snuggled
in a valley of maple and birch, beside clear and peaceful Eagle Lake, the
perfect woodland setting and get away. There are miles of back roads and
trails for biking and hiking and a sandy beach for swimming, paddle
boating, and a playground for the kids. And no TV! Wonderful!
The race is run entirely in the Haliburton Forest and Wild Life Reserve,
which is often described as being 51,000 acres of classroom in the old
growth forest. The runner is continually treated to splendid views of
Ontario's many lakes containing bass and rainbow, lake and speckled trout.
Fog hugged these pristine bodies of water during the hours after dawn. The
course is a double out and back format on country road, forest service
roads and single tract trail in the Forest, privately owned land in Central
Ontario dedicated to preserving these wetlands, forest and local wildlife.
Within this "classroom" are over 300 km of bike and wilderness
trail, 50 lakes, many large ponds and miles of streams and creeks.
Wolves? Yes there are wolves. Canis Lupus, although allusive, can still be
seen or heard. Two wild packs and a few lone wolves run and hunt in the
Haliburton Forest. But more easily seen and heard is the Reserve's own pack
of Gray Wolves enclosed in a 15 acre section of forest, these animals are
unsocialized (they do not interact directly with man) but not wild and
could not survive in the open forest on their own yet they offer exciting
educational and research opportunities.
Another adventure that the Reserve offers the nature enthusiast is called
"A Walk in the Clouds". This is a four hour round trip tour of
the Reserve that includes a half kilometer long walk through the canopy of
old growth White Pine trees. The canopy boardwalk is a rope bridge winding
through the tree tops, some 60 ft above the forest floor, where an
extraordinary views of the forest and surrounding lakes are seen. I chose
to journey first through the forest on foot and to view the flora and fauna
from the trail and then go back on the tour with the family next day but we
were rained out. Perhaps this is something we can do another year.
This Forest Trail Run is billed as being a small town race with a big heart
and I'd have to agree with that assessment. The runners, a total of 100 in
all, had the choice of entering the 50k, 50-mile or 100-mile races. 25 men and
woman signed on for the 100 mile challenge. At the pre-race dinner and
trail briefing each person in attendance, be they runner, support crew,
spouse or child was asked to stand up and introduce themselves. This added
to our sense of community as did the prayer just before dawn at race start
and the request from the race director to give the person standing next to
you a hug, wishing them well on their long journey.
The real difficult part of this race comes at mile 50 when the runner is
back at race start, their car and where the decision to go back out must be
made. I got in and out of that turn around FAST, allowing no time to think
about stopping. Some forest wildlife I saw during 28 hours on this
beautiful course included ruffled grouse, chipmunks and squirrels, snakes,
fox, raccoon, water fowl and bugs. Lots of flying insects feasting on those
who weren't saturated with DEET. These pests could be viewed as help at
times though, for after my bug spray wore or washed off they were only a
bother if they could catch me, so as long as I ran or shuffled along all
was well, walk and the price paid was bug bites, it was less painful to
shuffle along. I did not see the black bear that skirted the aid station
that the runners visited at miles 20/30/70/80. But I heard the wolves. Were
these the wild ones or the ones living on the Reserve? I'm not certain.
Their howls can be rather unsettling when heard while alone on deep forest
trail in the middle of the night. Soon after hearing those first howls I
stopped looking into the woods to investigate sounds coming from off trail.
For you see, as I peered into the woods with the light of my headlamp
wondering what that noise was, eyes would be looking boldly back at me. Now
I am a rational man most times and bet that the owners of those glowing
eyes reflecting back my light were raccoon and deer, but I was not about to
allow my imagination run wild thinking that they were wolf eyes and I was
now being stalked. I did not need to wonder if wolves were pondering how
this skinny, smelly, two legged creature ambling about might taste, God
knows that I would have been easy enough to catch at that point.
This was called a relatively gentle course as 100 milers go with a total
climb of only 6800 ft. But the climbs are short and steep and often rocky
and technical. I found it almost impossible to run the downhills in the
dark, even at a slow pace due to the many loose fist-sized rocks, tree
stumps and roots that seemed to be thrown about and growing on the trail.
There were 19 aid stations but no medical arrangements or checkpoints, the
runners are expected to care for their own medical needs and to be best
judge of their mental and physical state. There is an overall 30 hours time
limit with two intermediate cut-offs of 13 hours for 50 miles and 22 hours
for 75 miles. The 50 and 100 mile runners started together at 6 a.m., which I
blame for my very fast start. It seemed as if that group just took off and
pulled everyone along with them. The course was marked with pink ribbon
hanging from trees and we were warned at the briefing to keep our eyes open
for abrupt turns. This was a PR course for me, not that I worry about
finishing times (something only a back of the pack runner like me could
claim). The PR I'm bragging about is how far I ran, not how fast. In an
attempt to gain greater value for my running dollar I turned my race into a
102 miler. 17 miles into this thing I was running alone and stopped at an
unmanned station for a water refill and then ignored the trail markers
telling me to turn right onto the trail and instead continued along a
scenic dirt road for a mile, enthralled with the beauty of Wolf Lake which
was close enough to reach out and touch. It wasn't until I came up against the
back gate of the Forest and couldn't travel any farther that I realized I'd
not seen any pink ribbons for a while and that there were no footprints in
the dirt. Oops! A few choice words and back I went retracing my steps. I
have been the proud recipient of the much coveted Oven Door Runner "Lost
Patrol Award" and it showed! I covered those first 52 miles in 12 hours and
10 minutes and the second 50 miles in 16 + hours. I was most happy to sit
down Sunday morning just before 11 a.m.
Much of the course is in heavily wooded areas and it got dark much earlier
than I expected. I came into the 55 mile station just after dusk without
proper lighting, depending only on the pen light I pack for such
miscalculations. But it provided ample light until I reached my drop bag
and head lamp at 60 miles. Late in the afternoon I began experiencing an
intermittent nagging uneasiness, something was missing. Now at mile 55 the
helpful aid person noticing my small flashlight offered me a chemical
glowstick for use as light. Then it hit me! I hadn't seen a single
glowstick yet on this course. At the other 100 mile races I've run these
glowing trail markers are placed at 1/4 - 1/2 mile intervals, helping to keep
the runner on course. I usually begin noticing them well before dark. They
are easily seen and can be very reassuring. Now I knew there would be no
such help throughout the night. It would be a darker and lonelier run than
I've ever experienced; by now the runners were spread out over 20 miles.
I'd see the leaders as we'd cross paths, they coming in, me out or vice-versa,
and I wondered what it would be like to run that fast for this long;
it's a beautiful thing to see. And I wanted to say to the aid person
"Please, keep the glow stick and put it in a tree somewhere out there", but
kept these thoughts to myself and continued on. So as an added challenge to
running on the primitive trail at night I continually scanned left and
right looking for pink ribbons and hoping not to see those yellow eyes
following my progress. (I must be honest here: later in the race glowsticks
did appear here and there at turns and such).
The day was unusually hot, eh? A word I learned to love this weekend was
"EH?", which seemed to find it's way into every other Canadian sentence.
Aid stations were spaced at 5-6 mile intervals. Food was ample as were
liquids, but not a piece of ice was to be found on the entire course. Yes, a hot
and humid but very pretty day, 33 degree C or 90-ish in the sun. Granted, it
was cooler when under the trees. Some of the aid stations had camp fires
burning and it was so very tempting to just sit down later in the race and
watch the fire burn, smell the smoke and go to sleep. But . . . . . . The
chocolate covered coffee beans I had packed worked nicely during those
periods at night when sleep called; it's a good idea to treat oneself to
little goodies on these long events. The beans or even just a tooth brush
and a wash of the hands and face work wonders towards revival. There were
no water crossings, so my feet remained dry. The trails near lakes in the
lower lying lake areas became damp and cooler after dark but I was still
comfortable in shorts and singlet and these cool spots I ran into were
appreciated. I believe 14-16 runners finished the 100 mile distance and
were rewarded Sunday afternoon with brunch and belt buckles commemorating
their efforts.
I've said it many times, I like simple things, simple stories, these things
I can understand. The message I take from the story about the maiden and
the wolf is that one must take chances and risk failure. I don't mean being
reckless but simply testing oneself, finding out for oneself or reexamining
life in a different light, through different eyes or just trying something
just because it's not easy. Attempting something that's never been tried
before or returning to a challenge again just because it was a challenge.
And the rewards for taking these chances can be some sort of enlightenment
and maybe only for the moment, a different way of viewing the world around
me. Risking failure and embracing challenges changes a person. And that is
some of what attracts me to the ultramarathon, a simple task.
The reward I seek and most often find while ultrarunning aside, from some
degree of fitness, camaraderie, and celebration, is recognizing that which
is spiritual. My dictionary gives, along with others, these definitions of
spirit: "the creative and animating power of God, the vital essence or
animating force in living organisms, vivacity or energy or ardor" and for
spirituality - "something incorporeal". While running 50 or 100 miles,
during the many hours it takes me, I identify with all those definitions.
While running alone in the woods, the evidence of a Higher Power's creative
force is overwhelming. While running these distances I am continually
humbled by the distance, the challenge, by how bad I feel during parts of
the race, humbled by the terrain, humbled by recognizing the creative power
required to form a mountain or river or make a flower or tree, humbled by
the sheer beauty of a glowing sunset or the raw power of a fast moving
thunderstorm.
I am also in awe of the resurrection of sorts that occurs for me when the
sun rises on the second day of a 100 mile race, in awe of how I can go from
feeling so bad, from the depths of despair and fatigue to feeling so good
and strong and capable. I believe that it is more than physical strength
that enables one to complete ultra distances; I believe it is the
recognition of spiritual that helps us in our moments of struggle out
there, it's incorporeal but it's there. I believe. For me the spiritual
aspects of the run come from the combination of time spent alone inside my
own head, the humility that these distances demand of me and the quiet
confidence that I can accomplish what lies ahead. There's the confidence
that I will find the strength and recognize the spiritual. And the
spiritual is the reward for as well as the requirement for finishing the
race. Perhaps even a glimpse into the soul.
So what did the maiden gain by taking a chance and risking failure? She had
learned that what they say of a wolf is true, that it is wisest of all, and
the wolf in its howling is asking the most important question of all:
"woooooooooor
aieeeee th' sooooooooooool?
Where is the soul?"
"Go out into the woods, go out. If you don't go out into the woods,
nothing will ever happen and your life will never begin".
I joined some others and we went out into the woods. Did I see my soul? I'm
not certain, I'll continue to look. But lessons were presented that could
be applied to larger life. It was wonderful to share this experience with
my family. I'd not asked them to act as support during the race. It was
just too difficult for them to get to these aid stations and watching an
ultramarathon is about as exciting as watching grass grow. I knew that they
would enjoy the woods more alongside Eagle Lake than deep in the buggy
Canadian forest. Yet at the 60 mile mark, at 9 p.m., just before dark, I found
them waiting at the aid station. My wife Lisa and two daughters met me
there with words and hugs of support. I don't know that they understood
just what I was doing, and nor do I sometimes, but they did understand that
I'd appreciate their presence. Yes, a great way to end the summer. We went
into the woods. Where is the soul? I think I caught glimpses of it, my own
and those of others. Yes, I'll keep looking.
"Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it. Action has
magic, grace and power in it." -- Goethe
peace,
John Prohira
Copyright © 2000 John Prohira
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