"How can you tell the difference between grizzly bear skat and black bear
skat? The droppings with the chewed up pieces of bear bells in it is the
stuff that grizzly leave." This was a joke told me after my return from the
Haliburton Forest in Ontario, Canada this past Labor Day weekend. I smiled
at the joke much like I smiled when examining the bag containing the race
number that was given me prior to the 100-mile trail run that 37 others and
I had entered. You know all the goodies that race directors find to fill
these bags. This one contained my number, a long sleeved shirt, Tums, a
lollypop, a toothbrush and toothpaste and some lotion. All stuff that
kindly sponsors donate towards the effort of putting on an organized event
such as a footrace. What made me smile were bells. There was a piece of
twine on which a couple of small bells had been woven. Jingle, jingle,
jingle. I smile now as I write this and think of the weekend in the woods.
Up north is where I found my fun over the long weekend. The Haliburton
Forest is 150 miles north and east of Toronto. I'd returned there again
this year for the trail ultramarathon. This is an interesting course and
one that I remembered as being rather gentle. I think that there is
something seriously wrong with my head these days (I've been told that my
IQ drops 50 points every time I lace up my shoes for one of these long
runs). My memory seems to be flawed for although I recognized much of the
forest trail we transversed that Saturday and Sunday I found the challenge
of running 100 miles here more difficult than I remembered. Perhaps it's
best to have a selective memory. Oh well, it's been said that no matter how
well you know a course, no matter how well you may have done in a given
race in the past, you'll never know for certain what lies ahead on the day
you stand at the starting line waiting to test yourself once again. If you
did know, it would not be a test; and there would be no reason for being
there.
It's only a 6-7 hour drive from LeRoy, New York to the Base Camp in the
Haliburton Forest so I left on Friday morning, Sept 1st, arriving in time
for the pre-race feed and trail meeting. It's always nice to see
ultrarunning friends, to visit and have my running behavior validated by
like-minded souls (soles). I saw many with whom I'd spent long days and
nights, running and racing, sometimes being lapped by the sun. We were
offered copious amounts of food the night before our adventure in the form
of pasta, bread and green salad. Everyone in attendance at this
feed/meeting was asked to stand and introduce himself or herself, which
helped bond us more as a community. There were many old grizzled runners in
attendance but also many virgins, full of enthusiasm and apprehension. I
was told that now that I had been doing this sort of thing for three years
I was considered a child within the ultra community, not an infant anymore
but one who has shown examples of growth, one exhibiting proof that he
could be taught. At 46 years of age I'm thrilled to called "kid" under any
circumstances. I traveled north alone and did the weekend "on the cheap"
paying $5 Canadian for the privilege of sleeping in the back of my Blazer
the night before the race at Base Camp. I brought netting for use as bug
screen. I duct taped the netting to the truck's windows, kept the
mosquitoes out and I slept like a babe waking only once to the sounds of
rain and a cold front moving through the area. Friday had been hot and
humid but Saturday morning greeted us with cool temperatures and a fine
mist in the air, not quite rain but wet nonetheless. The feel of this
Canadian morning put a bit of a "spring in my step" as I moved from camp to
the start line about 1/4 mile away.
Before the start of the race a couple other Haliburton rituals were
performed. A prayer was read and God's care was asked for. Sometimes I'm
lucky enough to feel as if God is watching when I test myself in the manner
I do out on the trails. I've come to embrace the idea that my maker's
greatest gift to me was life itself and what I choose to do with that life
is my gift back to God. I want that gift to be meaningful. I think that
everyone has the opportunity to perform art with his life and that as Eric
Gill has written, "the artist is not a special kind of man, but every man
is a special kind of artist. Our art is living. We live our life in a
special way and find in that our meaning. We hope God is watching".
Something that we were asked to do again this year before race's start was
to shake the hand or give a hug to the person standing near you wishing
them the best on their journey--hey, I'm always up for a hug--and then 99 of
us were off into the woods. Three distances were offered that morning 50k,
50M or 100M and we all started at the same time down the dirt road away
from camp. Some to be timed with clocks in terms of hours and minutes and
others timed with calendars.
The 100M course is simply the 50M course done twice. So my race was a
double out and back consisting of 50% dirt and logging road and 50% forest
trail. I got to know the trail from last year and again this year while
retracing steps. The total elevation gain/drop for the entire course was
less than 7000 feet. Much of the dirt road was easy to run on, during the
day and after dark. The race support was just as I found last year
unparalleled. Helen Malmburg and her crew did an outstanding job of
providing nourishment for body and soul. I was fed, hydrated and lied to
continually by those kind souls working aid stations throughout the day and
night, told how good I looked and how well I was doing. Wonderful folks!
The trails can be rather technical at times with many roots and rocks
growing from the loamy earth. During the light of day I found I could bound
down these trails maneuvering between the roots and rocks but this was not
something I could repeat after sundown using only the light of my headlamp.
It was a very dark night in the woods. Go figure! But again I commend Helen
and crew on the great job of marking trail. This is big forest and the
trails at times are single track and quite close. The day and night was
overcast, no moon or stars at night, no sunshine during the day. Just a
misty rain on and off as we ambled along through mild mud and along the
numerous lakes and ponds that Ontario, the "Land of Lakes" is known for. It
is indeed a beautiful course even on a gray day. Ferns that lined the
trails were at times more than waist high, green and lush providing the
prefect backdrop for the wildflowers, mostly red, orange and yellow in
color that I found in clusters here in there beneath the canopy of pine.
It was buggy along the water but the "Skin So Soft" spray offered and
applied at aid stations every 5 miles provided a good barrier against the
worst of these pests. As I've always found on ultras the food, if not exotic,
is ample and sustaining. I carried with me drink high in carbs and protein
and swallowed a packet of GU just about every hour along with gram
quantities of salt and never really bonked, for I know first hand that
attention to hydration and fuel is critical or the unmindful runner will be
wistful for the "wall" of the marathon, should the "death grip" of the
ultra hit them. So from the aid stations I also took solid food -
sandwiches (I have never had Cheese-Whiz on white bread taste so good as it
did that night), oranges, melon, candy, chips and pretzels, potatoes and
soup and broth after the sun set. I'm beginning to get the hang of this
kind of endeavor and can eat with my belly rebelling in only the mildest
fashion. In case of a tummy ache I find quick relief by sucking on a piece
of crystallized ginger I always carry. But if ginger doesn't work I realize
that I can't die from a stomachache. The worst that can happen is that I'll
throw up. Then I can eat some more and start running again. A dry shirt at
the 55-mile mark where I picked up my headlamp and a quick brushing of my
teeth helped me embrace the long night ahead. It got dark so very fast
after the sun that was hiding beneath the cloud cover set. By 8:30 and 60
miles the night was upon us.
One reason I love the 100-mile distance so is running through the night. It
can truly be magical. I do best at these longer distances when I find a
measure of peace before and during the run. I believe that runners can get
through the weary and lonely hours only if they are at peace in themselves
and with the world around them. That is one reward that 29 hours of running
gives - peace - it's a requirement and the reward. The night was quiet. I
ran for a while with Marla Hendricks, a lady veterinarian from Texas and
much of the day and night with Art Moore who I believe is a 63-year-old
chemical engineer from Ohio. This gentleman was experiencing equilibrium
problems yet finished his race the next morning in kind of a lopsided
manner, a testimony in perseverance. From 75-95 miles, through what could
have been the darkest and most lonely parts of Sunday morning, until after
race's second dawn I kept company with another lady from Texas. Suzi Cope
charmed and distracted me with stories and reflections of her ultrarunning
adventures as we made our way back towards Base Camp. Suzi seemed to know
every ultrarunner I knew and so many more. I took strength from each of
these people and all the others who went into the forest with me and I
offered what I could in return.
It's not the beginning or the end of a race that counts. It's what happens
in between. Maybe that is what I like most about these races, the long time
in between start and finish. While leaving the 70-mile aid station I was
asked where my bear bells were. Shamefaced I replied that I hadn't put them
on at race's start. I was offered another set and asked to wear them
because up ahead on trail a runner had just encountered a large black bear
and it was better to be safe than sorry. OK! These folks seemed sincere
enough so I obliged and jingled back off into the woods. I hadn't worn them
in the first place because I suspected that I'd grow weary of their noise
after time. I saw no bears; only rebirth and resurrection once the world
became light again.
11 a.m. on Sunday my race was completed. I finished the race with a
man who had taught my wife computer science back in Binghamton, New York
some 18-19 years ago. Small world! I found myself a chair and sat down--so
nice, so very nice--and watched another 8 runners complete the magic they
had started 100 miles and almost 30 hours ago. I watched and acknowledged
their deliverance, so aware that something special and meaningful had
happened, something shared. I knew then and now that George Sheehan was
right when he wrote that "the race cleanses us, using a pace we can barely
sustain, for a distance we can barely transverse and a length of time that
is the outer limit of our physical ability. We are renewed by being totally
spent".
I had time for a quick but oh so cold shower before lunch and the awards
ceremony. Before each 100 mile finisher, and there were 27 of them out of
38 starters, received their award our race director asked a woman finisher
to please come forward and share with us her an experience from on the
trail with us. She told us of how after leaving the 70 mile aid station she
heard lots of noise from off the trail up ahead of her only to see this
large black form seemingly tumble onto the path ahead of her, turn and
growl - "GGGGGRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!" I think that was the exact sound she made.
Yes, a big black bear sat in between her and the space she needed to travel
in order to continue her race. So she says to the bear, "Go Away, shoooo"
to which the Halliburton Forest resident replied while standing
up, "GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!". So she turned around and went away,
running about a quarter of a mile before glancing over her shoulder and seeing no
bear in pursuit. Back to the aid station she went where she met another
runner who offered to run with her and finish what they had started. Off
they went without any further encounters. I sensed nothing but truth in the
words this lady spoke and thought perhaps next year I'd wear my bells. I
wondered if I would or could be as brave as she and return to the task at
hand after such distraction. I've said it many times, wonderful folks are
found out there on the trails. Strong yet gentle people, I'm in awe!
27 of us received commemorative belt buckles the size of small dinner
plates as rewards for playing in the forest. There's a lot to be said for
LSD - not the kind we may have known during the late 60's and early 70's
but long slow distance. And I am lucky enough to have people like you I can
share this experience with, people who know that our bodies are given out
on loan - who know that we shouldn't waste them and expect to use them
tomorrow. Last year when I went into the Eastern Canadian woods I was
serenaded by wolves, this year it was bear tales (thankfully no grizzlies
on the east coast).
Maybe next year you'll join me there, I'd really like that!
In closing -
"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. The winds will blow their freshness into you, and the storms, their energy. Your cares and tensions will drop away like the leaves of autumn."
-- John Muir
"Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced"
-- Kierkegard
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