glimultramarathon

8/14/2019 GLimUltramarathon

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Ultramarathoners are those who rundistances greater than the 26.2-mile

marathon. Typical races span 50 kilometers (roughly 31 miles), 50 miles; 100kilometers, and 100 miles. Then, theres

the twenty-four-hour run, during which participants see how far they can go in aday and a night. There are even eventssuch as the six-day, 145-mile Marathondes Sables, which crosses the SaharaDesert in southern Morrocco and is

billed as the worlds toughest footrace.Despite the grueling challenge of run-

ning such distances or perhaps becauseof it the popularity of ultramarathonshas grown in the last few decades.

According to Don Allison, the publisherof UltraRunning magazine, there are about

ten thousand to twelve thousand ultrama-rathoners in the United States.

These extreme athletes cover incredi- ble distances willingly and often withchildlike joy. Unlike high-profile racessuch as the Boston and the New Yorkmarathons, which attract topflight

runners from around the world with cash prizes and lucrative endorsement deals,

ultramarathons rarely give out monetaryrewards. I cant even get a free pair of shoes, jokes Heaslett, a top female ultra-runner and a four-time member of theU.S. national 100K team.

Still, they run. And run. And run.Their mind-boggling feats raise the

question, Why? According to the dean of running, Sir

Roger Bannister, The more restrictedour society and work become, the morenecessary it will be to find some outletfor this craving for freedom. No one cansay, You cannot run faster than this, or

jump higher than that. The human spiritis indomitable.

Other runners arent as specific in their motivations. Their primary responsecould be summarized by a Dr. Seuss

verse: Here are some who like to run.They run for fun in the hot, hot sun.

Or in freezing rain or against blus- tery winds. It doesnt matter to these

extreme athletes, who have learned thesecret to life: they dont live to work.

They work to live. And they live to run.

5:50aaretoenduheadisnojsevertogetbolthdownThermusiracesmemtempfortiefifteethefrtheIcinwhandc

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Steve Szydlik (lef t) isknow n at UW-Oshkosh ast he Running Professorfor sprint ing t o classes.He doesnt enter racesfor t he medals, althoughhe did keep the first-place award f rom theFBI w hen he m istakenlysigned up for a 5Kreserved for federalagent s. Szydlik, w ho isnot a short-distancerunner, kept w onderingwhy he w as blowingaway the competition.Far left, Szydlik pulls outall the stops aft er authorGrace Lim hands off thebaton in t he relay.


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his year, however, is different.Hes at the starting line only sohe can cheer on his friends.

Szydlik, who is nursing a nagging caseof sciatica, is running only eighteen

miles the second leg of the 50K relay, with a friend who is a back-of-the-packmarathoner. The relay doesnt start until8:00 a.m., and Szydlik wont be able toset foot on the course until about 11:00.

For this consummate competitor, itsodd to go into an Ice Age race knowing

that winning is not even a remote possibil-ity. Steve owns Ice Age, says ultrarun-ner Kevin Setnes, one of Szydliks

perennial competitors. It will be a note- worthy day when someone comes alongand takes his title away from him. Szyd-

lik half-jokingly wonders if he will be able to stop himself from taking off at the fifty-milers official start. After wishing a fewracers well, Szydlik sees Ann Heaslett,

last years womens winner, sporting thecoveted number one, the number hes

worn the past three years. He says underhis breath, Thats just fine with me.

teve Szydlik is trying to articulate the mentality of the ultrarunner.He finally settles on a common

saying among long-distance enthusiasts:If the bone aint showin, you keep ongoin.

In 1996, Szydlik, who was defendinghis Ice Age title, did exactly that. He

broke his wrist on mile thirty-one, but went on to a seventh-place finish. I wasnt having a particularly good day, herecalls. The on-site physician fashioned amakeshift splint out of a cardboard boxand wrapped the fractured wrist in band-ages. Although in pain, Szydlik didntdeem the injury a race-ender.

Back home at the University of Wis-consin-Oshkosh, Szydlik is known as theRunning Professor. Colleagues say it is arare sight to see him walk anywhere. If he needs something from the hardwarestore downtown, hell just stick his walletin his pocket and run there, says fellowmath professor Ken Price. Steve is a

physical freak. Hell run ten miles everyday and then come to class and teach.

Ronnie Carda PhD90, an exercise physiologist at UW-Madison, remembersrunning the six-mile loop that goes

through the UW Arboretum with Szyd- lik. On certain days, Steve would run that loop four to six times, Carda says.Those of us who ran with Steve nowcall running around the Arboretumdoing a Szyd.

Carda says Szydlik kept a low profileabout his running prowess. When asked

how he did in events, he would alwayssay, Okay. Later on, you would find out that he had won the race.

Szydlik, thirty-seven, is the quintes-sential trail runner. Although he lovescompetition, he doesnt run for the tro-

phies or medals, many of which he has left on the awards table. He simply runsfor the joy that running gives him.

In 2002, Szydlik ran every single dayexcept one. He endured the sweltering

August heat and the raw winter days, logging at least three miles each day. He purposely abstained from running onNew Years Eve. I didnt want to start

being obsessed, he says without irony.Not like fellow Ice Ager Michael

McAvoy 72, who once ran five miles in business shoes because he forgot his run-ning shoes on a trip. McAvoy, who is

vice president of operations at All SaintsHealthcare in Franksville, Wisconsin , isa streaker, which in running terms is

someone who runs daily, rain or shine.He has not missed a day of running at

least two miles in twenty-three years.But such dedication pays off for

these elite athletes. Szydlik, a three-time

member of the U.S. Track and Field100K team, has run more than twenty-five ultras. In the 1998 100K WorldChallenge in Nakamura, Japan, Szydlikfinished first among American men andsixteenth overall, clocking in at sevenhours, twenty-five minutes. He averagedabout seven minutes, ten seconds permile for sixty-two miles.

In all his races, Szydlik has loggedonly one DNF a Did Not Finish inrunners parlance. He wasnt humbled

by the remote and rugged territory of the Western States 100-Mile Run (aroute from Squaw Valley to Auburn,California, that includes a vertical climbof 2,550 feet in the first four miles).Rather, Szydliks lone DNF took placein the heart of Madison at a four-milerace. The reason? He got lost. I was outin front, he says. I thought I knew

where to turn, but I was wrong. By the time I realized what was going on, I was too embarrassed to go back, so I just leftand went home.

Quitting big races, however, would be too easy and potentially habit-form-ing, Syzdlik says. During a race, Ill say,When I finish this, I will never ever, everdo another one. [But] I have this stub-

bornness that doesnt allow me to quit.6:00achamexcitShekcoupbegintheencallystartocomptousehavet

atience may have its time and place, but ultimately, there comesa time to forsake it in the heat of

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Next year, Jason Dorgan hopes to get intothe Badw ater M arathon, a 135-mile runthrough Death Valley.


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competition. In April, Ann Heaslettcompeted in the National 100K Champi-onship in Eagle, Wisconsin a race in

which the top three finishers go on torepresent the United States at the 100K

World Cup in Winschoten, Netherlands.Heaslett, a staff psychiatrist at theMendota Mental Health Institute inMadison, is not one to indulge in self-doubt. But before that race, she had toface down some confidence issues. Istarted thinking, These gals are younger

than me, says Heaslett, who is forty.They are faster than me. What am Idoing out here?

Thats what happens when one has too much time between training and therace, she says. At the race, those doubtsfell by the wayside as Heaslett tore

through the field and secured a silvermedal, finished with a personal best timeof 8:29:49, and set a new record among

American women between the ages of forty and forty-five.

Despite suffering intestinal woesduring two of eight laps that would have

taken out lesser competitors, Heaslettcranked it up a notch and ran the lastfive miles of the sixty-two-mile racefaster than any other contestant either

male or female. There was a womanright on my tail, Heaslett recalls. Com-ing out of the last aid station, she wasonly thirty seconds behind. I heard peo-

ple yelling for her as I was leaving. I justran as hard as I could, she says. Itscalled running scared.

Quitting, for Heaslett, is an optiononly if she feels she would jeopardize herrunning future if she didnt. I never

think about quitting, she says. You puta lot of emotional energy into deciding toquit or not to quit.

Heasletts fianc, Tim Yanacheck, is amid-pack ultrarunner who crews for her providing extra clothing, food, drink,

words of encouragement, and support inevery form. Yanacheck says he knows

better than to suggest dropping out of arace to Heaslett, because shed never letme crew for her again.

Yanacheck stopped running withHeaslett about two years ago. I couldnt

keep up with her, but thats all right,he says with a laugh. I know shes notgoing to fall in love with some other guyon the trail, because he wouldnt be able

to keep up, either.

Heaslett goes into races knowing she will feel bad at some point. But she alsoknows that the bad feelings ebb andflow. You never know what its going to

be maybe your foot hurts, you have blisters, your stomachs acting up. Rightaway, Im always problem solving. Im

thinking, Okay, my stomach is actingup. Do I need to slow down? Do I need

to switch from Gatorade to GU [energygel] and water? Do I need to pull overand use the bathroom? Im always

thinking, What can I do to keep going?Heasletts profession can sometimes

make her the victim of bad jokes. Have you heard the one about the psychiatrist who runs and runs ... Heaslett takes theribbing in stride. I just laugh along, shesays, adding, I dont think Im crazy in a

psychotic way or anything like that maybe a little too compulsive.

8:40apeltinbutmracetneedlvallerootswelcrunniminusevenspiritThis

ason Dorgan, thirty-eight, has onegoal every time he competes in anultramarathon. He wants to finish.

Im not competing against anybodyelse, he says.

Dorgan, who started running ultrasin 1996, knows that if he upped his train-ing and intensity level, he could trim his

times. But he doesnt really want to. Hedmuch rather enjoy the process therunning itself at his own speed.

Ragan Petrie (left) and Ann Heaslett relax after running, respectively, 31 and 50 miles in the IceAce Trail race. Heaslett has been the first woman finisher for two years in a row. For manyultrarunners, motivation revolves around a spiritual quest. For instance, David Blaikie isquoted o n Stan Jensens Web site saying, The doors of t he spirit w ill swi ng open w ith physicaleffort . See uw alumni.com/onwisconsin f or m ore running quotes.

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Besides, Dorgan says he runs mainly tohang out with other runners. The cama-raderie of the ultrarunning community isspectacular, he says.

Dorgan also plays pick-up basketball

in the winter because he likes to social-ize with the other players. But he isconsidering giving up shooting hoops,

because he says his body cant handle the twisting and turning much longer.Its taking me longer and longer torecover from basketball, says the man

who has run more than half a dozenhundred-mile races.

If that sounds contradictory, yourenot an ultrarunner. MIT scientist KurtKelly PhD01 claims that most peoplehave the energy to run one hundredmiles (or more), but they just cant men-

tally tap the energy that is required tokeep going. Every ultramarathon is anexercise in getting at that energy. Beingable to do that helps in a lot of aspects of everyday life, he adds. No goal seemsout of reach either physically ormentally when you know you canmake it that far.

Before he left Madison, Kelly belonged to a loosely knit ultrarunninggroup dubbed FTT, for Fat Thighs

Thursday. Dorgan and Heaslett cur-rently run with the group, which consistsof a couple dozen members who gatherevery week to run for an hour. Then theyfind a restaurant and chow down.

The workouts are more social thanserious training. As they pound the pave-ment, the long-distance devotees chatabout work, family, and politics. Invari-ably, the topic degenerates to what kindof meal someone is craving, causingmuch good-humored distress among theother runners. Now the group has a newrule: food can be brought up in conversa-

tion only after theyve completed at leasthalf the run.

Next year, Dorgan hopes to get into the Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-milerun through Death Valley, from the

lowest, hottest spot in the WesternHemisphere to Mt. Whitney, the highest

point in the continental U.S.

Hes already pulled off the ultrarun-ning Grand Slam: in 2001, he ran fourone-hundred-mile races in the same cal-endar year, within a fourteen-week span.He was one of only nine ultrarunners

who accomplished the feat that year.But why Badwater, where tempera- tures are well over one hundred in theshade? Dorgan laughs and says, Someof my friends asked me if I wanted to doit because they want to crew it. They are

looking at it as a big party. Its 135 milesof being in an RV with all the food anddrink they want.

Dorgan says he needs to write a com- pelling letter to Badwaters organizers, because the race is by invitation only. If he gets in, he plans to share some of the

joys of the event with his friends. Imgoing to have them run with me, hesays. They wont be able to party in theRV the entire time. Im going to makesure they have a little abuse.9:50a.m.Routofsortsintoher50KShefeltgreteenmiles,thatincludwhiledthawithanoldbestkindowhereyoucPetrie,thirthetimepamorefun.firstoftwohastofightness,ontop

f not for the smell of chlorine, RaganPetrie would be in a swimming pooland not out in the woods, pounding

out mile after mile. I started grad schoolswimming, and after a while, I couldntstand the smell of chlorine and startedrunning, she says.

Petrie, who has a joint PhD in eco-nomics and agricultural and applied eco-nomics, credits her love of ultrarunning to

the stress of graduate school. When sheenrolled, she ran 10Ks. By the time she

left, she was running fifty-mile races.

Thats what grad school does to you, shesays. Through the course of my disserta-

tion, I was running longer and longer.Her colleagues at Georgia State Uni-

versity know little about her extracurricu-

lar activities. My experience is that itshard for people to understand, because the first thing out of their mouths is, Idont even like to drive one hundredmiles, she says. So you dont talk aboutit to people who dont run the distance.

Petrie completed her first hundred-mile race in Vermont in 2003, placingfourth among women and twelfth over-all. Heaslett came to the race to pace herduring the last forty miles. Ann wasgreat, Petrie recalls. She did a lot of

talking she picked me up.In June, Petrie won the Kettle

Moraine 100K outright and set a newcourse record of 9:50:22. She says she

likes putting herself through these physi-cally and mentally challenging tests. Itsnot something a lot of people can do.

inish: Steve Szydliks relay partnerfinally shows up at the handoff nearly three hours after the start.

Szydlik later says he had a goal for the pair to finish in under five hours. That

meant that he had to run the last eight-een miles averaging 7:16 per mile. He did better than that, averaging 6:52 per mile.

Ragan Petrie is the fifth woman fin-isher in the 50K, with a time of 4:19:39.She worked through her sluggish stretchand aching legs by taking an aspirin and

telling herself, This is okay. I can do this. The next aid station is not far away.I am not finished. She is pleased withher first race effort of the year she had

broken her collarbone in January whilerunning with her black lab. After cross-ing the finish line and cooling down for a

bit, she runs back out to the trail so shecan cheer Heaslett on to the finish.

Jason Dorgan finishes the fifty-milerfour minutes under his self-imposed goalof eight hours. I had tight calves andhamstrings, he says. I stopped andstretched every hour or so from twentymiles in. Despite the slight setback,Dorgan finished strong. Finishing is


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always my first goal. Doing it undereight is just icing on the cake.

Ann Heaslett successfully defends her title with a time of 7:30:46. She came inseventh overall. There is a bench on the

trail that Tim (her fianc) calls the four-minute bench, because then I know Imfour minutes away from the finish. Imalways looking for that bench.

When someone mentions that she pretty much ran what would have been afull workday without a lunch or coffee

break or even a normal bathroom break,she shrugs her shoulders. I think its a lot

less stressful than work for eight hours,she says. Im outdoors. Its a beautifulday. Then she pauses and concedes, Itmight be a little crazy, though.

Back-of-the-pack marathoner Grace Lim ran her first IceAge Trail Run wearing a sign that read, Graces RelayStrategy: Partner Steve Szydlik.

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