24 Hours Around the Lake Race: Wakefield MA 27-28 July 2013

So, the first big event on my “ultra marathon” calendar has arrived. This all started last fall when I completed a 50K (30 mile) running race and announced that I would run a 60 mile race to celebrate my 60^th birthday this October. I’ve been training since last November, the Ghost Train Ultra Marathon falls on October 26^th, twelve days after my 60^th. Perfect, I had a whole year to get ready. Then in March I found a 24 Hour race in Wakefield MA in July. There is no set distance for 24 hour races, you run as far as you can until you can go no further… or 24 hours passes. Simple as that. Granted, the 24 was an ambitious undertaking ahead of the 60 miler… nor did it fall in line with my training schedule for the Ghost Train. However, 24s are far and few between and Wakefield is near by… it was irresistible. I cranked up my training schedule as quickly as possible and got ready as best I could. What follows is my account of the Lake race.

24 Hours Around the Lake runs from 7PM on Friday night until 7PM Saturday. My initial support crew, my daughter Shelby and her boyfriend Jason and I arrived at the race site at 4PM on Friday. It had been raining much of the day, but was a mild 71 degrees. The start/finish line is in a side parking lot of the Clarion hotel. The edge of the cone-lined course was dotted by support crews huddled under sun/rain canopies, camper vans and other support vehicles. The course is a 5K (3.1 mile) loop that is a mixture of pavement and sidewalk, not the best for running, but pancake flat. There are actually three races in one that all start together and share the course… a regular marathon with about a 175 entrants, a 12 hour race with 100 entrants and another 100 24 hour racers. We set up along the course in what would soon become a little village surrounding start/finish line. I’m not feeling all that great before the race, my stomach is uneasy… maybe it’s my nerves. Finally we line up for the start and it’s raining pretty hard… we are all soaked and more importantly the road is completely awash and all of us have wet feet, not a great way to start a long event.

The first couple laps go by quickly, I’m going pretty good. But, by 10PM my uneasy stomach is in full rebellion… I’m incredibly nauseous and in serious trouble. I have to slow down and pull myself together or I will be forced to quit. I make a hard choice and decide to walk a few laps even though I hate to do it. Walking is commonly practiced by ultra marathoners… just not usually so early in the race. There are no rules about it, some people even take short naps… it’s your 24 hours, you run the race as you see fit. By 1AM I start to feel better… I’ve lost time but I’m still in the race. I change out of my wet clothes… everything: shoes, socks, shorts and singlet. I have to re-lubricate all my chafe points… inner thighs, arms, feet etc. It’s a painfully long pit stop, probably 15 minutes… but necessary. The rain stopped at midnight, now the clouds have given way to a clear sky. There is a beautiful half moon… it is a wonderful warm breezy night. The Lake’s course is bounded by very busy and noisy roads that are right next to you. In daylight the sidewalk is heavily used by runners, walkers, kids on bikes and dog walkers. In the wee hours of the morning the roads and the course are nearly deserted. The large contingency of marathoners have finished, the daytime traffic (road and sidewalk) is non-existent and only the ultra marathoners remain. There are less than 200 of us strung around the 3 mile course. I’m running again, feeling OK and the night is incredibly beautiful, serene and tranquil. The world is asleep and I’m not… and I am hugely enjoying it.

The race takes on a rhythm as all races do, but the rhythm in longer races is slow and gentle, an easy rolling beat. Runners pass runners from time to time. Faster runners pass me… I pass slower runners. It’s a strange perspective… we only see each other from behind, no faces. We exchange runner pleasantries while passing… “nice job”, “keep it going” and the like. Some give the occasional squeeze of the elbow or gentle pat on the shoulder with a “looking good”. I like runners, we have our own thing going on. Most of us are courteous gentle folk. Most of us look out for and encourage each other. It’s a cool brother/sisterhood. The start/finish line village is mostly awake through the night, there are twinkling lights, soft music and laughter. At the end of each lap we take a right hand turn into the village… it feels good, another lap done. But it’s more than that… it’s a welcoming experience, familiar and inviting… a homecoming of sorts that makes the last mile of each lap more bearable. There is a double canopy three canopies down from us that is inhabited by a relay team (there is also a 24 hour relay team division with a few 6-8 person teams) that I had chatted with before the race. They are from Woburn MA, around my age and very playful and friendly. They were short a runner and tried to unsuccessfully to recruit me with promises of beer. They saw my retired firefighters plate on my truck and every time I come through they hoot and cheer, “goooo Greeeenfield”. I appreciate it… a lot. At about 3AM I’m coming into the village and the pop-up lawn sprinklers at the hotel spring into action. I swing wide into the street to not get soaked again. Pandemonium spreads through the village as several of the support crews have set up on the grassy islands in the parking lot. The islands are sprinkled too… I’m greeted by wobbling canopies being hastily carried off by surprised and giggling crewmembers. It’s a ridiculous scene, a very funny and welcome distraction.

Ten hours in and just before sunrise I become acutely aware of how raw my emotions have become. It’s as if all the veneer, all the armor that normally protects my psyche has been stripped away. I miss my wife Kristine enormously, it’s a palpable ache. I know she will be here in a few hours (she had to look after the dog overnight), but she can’t come soon enough for me. All my feelings are magnified and edgy… it must be the monotony  and fatigue of the race that has delivered this to me. I had guessed that I would discover new things during this event… but I don’t think I saw this coming. I don’t resist it… it’s a strange and liberating feeling, I let flow over me. Or perhaps, I let it flow out of me. It’s hard to describe, I don’t think I’ve been here before… not quite like this. I’m close to tears… but not crying. I think about what is important and what isn’t. It’s not that I haven’t thought about these things before, I often do. But now there is an edgy clarity to it. Things are very black or white. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to lead a purposeful and meaningful life… tonight it takes on a new urgency. I am filled with an enormous sense of gratitude for all the goodness in my life. Kristine, my children, my dog… my guitars, my bicycles and oh yes, my beloved running shoes, all forty pairs that my family often teases me about… the nice things I have acquired across my lifetime. My cup truly runneth over, I’m a lucky man. I don’t have a lot of money, I don’t own a big house, car or boat. I prefer smaller things and tonight it’s clearer than ever that is what's important.

 All’s good until daybreak, then my belly starts acting up again. I slow but push on. By 7AM I have covered 48 miles… well short of expectations. Morning brings a sunny cloudless sky and a rapid increase in temperature. By 9AM I am reduced to mostly walking again. My pre-race fantasies of covering 70, 80 miles or more have evaporated. My stated goal of staying in the race for the full 24 hours seems highly improbable. I soldier on, and my pacers begin to drift in. Pacing, to help encourage and keep the runner’s spirits and speed up… and keep them from wandering off course (especially in trail races) are commonly used in the second half of ultras. A wise runner uses them. First to arrive, Chris Kowaleski paces me and does his best to berate and cajole me into continuing and picking up the pace. Bill Woodbury has been tipped off about the stomach issues and shows up with Pepto-Bismol (which helps some) and paces me next. His approach is kinder and gentler but no less persuasive. Finally Kristine arrives and lifts my spirits and paces my final lap. I race for 16:29:00 covering 61.11 miles. The pace is slow, but this was never about speed. I have run two marathons back to back plus 9 miles… or another way of looking at is that I have run 19 consecutive 5Ks. The official race results which are not available for a couple days are even more heartening. I finish 28^th out of 91 overall, that includes all age groups. In my age group 50-59, which is my race, I am 3^rd of 13… I am delighted to find that I’m on the podium in my first attempt, I didn’t see that one coming.

This is by far the farthest and longest I have ever run. I came prepared to deal with the aches and pains of distance running, not an upset stomach… although belly problems are not uncommon in distance running. I was ready to do battle with aching feet (which I did have) tired legs and sore knees. Before the race Kristine had insisted that Shelby write with a sharpie on my forearm “Shut up legs”… one of our favorite sayings borrowed from the legendary German pro-cyclist Jens Voight. But my big opponent for the night was an uninvited guest, an upset stomach… arguably an even more difficult opponent. Official results not withstanding, my disappointment with the distance and time is tempered by my disciplined recovery early in the race… a hugely important lesson and meaningful victory. And I was rewarded for it with a few hours of strong happy running through the most magical part of the night… an incredibly sweet memory. The rest of my body, not my stomach, held up remarkably well. I’m stiff the day after, my feet are swollen and sore but otherwise fine. I only take one day off after the race… I run a strong and smooth 10K the next day. I will need to continue to work on nutrition and hydration… to control the belly thing. My long stated goal of running 60 miles to celebrate my 60^th birthday is clearly much more within reach. This has been an amazing experience. A big thank you is in order to the race organizers and the many, many volunteers who made this wonderful event happen. I thank my family and my friends for their unwavering support and of course most of all… my remarkable wife Kristine.