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Paul Doody (story with photos, PDF)
Report from the Arnold Road Aid Station
"...on the other side"
It's ten-thirty in the morning and I'm driving with a box of supplies to the site of my aid station, a roadside gravel area at the edge of a cornfield -- with hardly a tree in sight. This is mile 42.5 of the CAN LAKE 50, and the last relay exchange point of the race. From here, solo and relay runners will travel 7.5 miles to the start/finish line on the FLCC campus.
In about two hours, the station's set up, and I'm no longer by myself. Vehicles pull in ahead of the lead runners. The three -- one half of a two-man relay team and two solo runners -- come through quick, only minutes apart. The solo runners waste no time; just a water-bottle refill, and they're gone. The rest of the field isn't far behind. There's a pause...
And then it starts.
Runners, support crews, and a host of others begin to converge on the station. For the next four hours, the scene oscillates between anticipation and frenzy. Vehicles pull in. Vehicles pull out. People appear. People disappear. Runners come and go. In the midst of it all, I'm scanning the horizon for new arrivals, recording times and bib numbers, alerting bystanders to local traffic, pouring water cups, mixing HEED, restocking food supplies, and refilling water bottles. The endless stream of activity blurs into images and snippets of conversations.
I hear comments about the setup, "You have containers!"; I provide directions, "They told me to drive to this intersection and head North. Which way is North?"; and I answer questions -- the easy questions like, "What does HEED stand for?" (High Energy Electrolyte Drink), and the more difficult questions like, "Where can I go to the bathroom?" (...)
"Awesome, man. You guys are awesome!" shouts a relay participant to a solo runner. There's the last minute instructions, "And don't forget to wear the chip this time!"; and the occasional, panicked outburst, "Oh no! I said we needed a seven-forty pace!" as teammate disappears from sight. "I meant eight-forty!"
There's the relay team that's ready to follow their last runner to the finish -- but wants to wait with husband and kids to cheer for "Mom," who's doing her first ultra. There's the relay runner looking forward to a first marathon in January. There's the relay team captain, "Well, I've got to get my family together at least once a year." There's a concerned-looking woman cradling an armful of flasks, "I'm waiting for my husband. I don't know what he needs. We ran out of Perpetuem." There's the young guy carrying a baby. The little girl -- with a whistle. And a pacer in conversation, "...but you want to be careful. I made that mistake once. Ate the wrong thing. Wound up barfing in a cornfield."
Two solo runners discuss the course as they take a short break. "What did you think of that long, steep hill?"
"Tough. Very tough. Did you notice the cemetery at the top?"
"Yeah. Very fitting."
They ask what the remainder of the course is like. "Easier," I say, hedging. "The worst part is over. The big hills are on the other side of the lake." (Although, having never been to the other side of lake, the only thing I know about the terrain is what I've been told by a cyclist friend: "If you have to go over Bopple, you're going the wrong way.")
Then there was one runner who, politely, set me straight after I gave directions to the next aid station for the umpteenth time: "You can tell us these things -- and we look like we're paying attention -- but the second we get out of here we forget everything you said."
Before I know it, the last solo runner passes by and continues down the road. Only two or three people are still on the course. The race-support vehicles leave to accompany these runners to the off-road trail leading back to FLCC.
Suddenly, I'm all alone.
***
It's seven o'clock. I start the drive home after watching the final runner cross the finish line. It's been a long day for me, but I'm not thinking about that. I'm thinking about how many people said, "Thank you for being here;" how many family members and friends showed up to cheer, not only for "their" runners, but for every runner on the course; and how many runners encouraged each other -- both their teammates and their competitors. I'm thinking about how much support was offered to each participant -- from those in the lead, to the one in last place. And I'm thinking that every fellow runner, at least once, might also appreciate the experience of being at an aid station...on the other side.
____________
L.Szatkowski, 2008-10-13
I have been training for a fall marathon. But I had to confess that the thought of doing the same marathon for the third time did not excite me. What did excite me was jumping into a 50k Road Ultra and testing out the water. So I broke the news to my running partner that I was bailing on him and jumped into your 50k instead. Why your race? Well it was the same weekend as my marathon I had planned on doing for starters. But also, it seemed to be well organized and the web site was very informative. So after breaking the news to my girlfriend and talking her into coming to the race with me, it was a done deal.
Race Day: The weather was pretty close to ideal for running. I had no idea of the other runners in the 50k, and none of them knew me as I live on the East Side of the State. I tried to go out a little slower than a marathon would be for me and found myself running shoulder to shoulder with a runner by the name of Mark Andrews. We led all runners and we both agreed that it was a big bonus for us to have someone to run with instead of going out at sub 7 minute pace solo. We ran and talked and got to know one another. We ran the hill at 3 miles, then the hill at 7 miles, then the hill at 10 miles, each bigger than the one before. Neither of us had seen Bopple Hill, but both of us had heard about it's reputation. We ran the first steep part of the hill, then the middle section. But as we ran the last third of the hill I decided that running the entire hill was not a wise move for me and I began power walking the last section and let Mark go. Mark continued and ran the entire hill. My girlfriend asked me if I was ok as I reached the top of the hill. I said yeah, that I was just trying to be smart, and off I went to pursue Mark. It took over a mile to make up the minute I lost on the hill, but I caught him, and as I passed him I sensed he was in a bit of a bother, so I pressed on as I knew he was a fantastic runner and once he got over what he was going through would no doubt catch me. But I found out later his cramps were sever enough to cause him to drop out of the race...I hoped he was alright.
As I pressed on I almost missed the grass trail section of the course. I passed the marathon marker in 3:03:48 and still felt pretty good. It was not until just after I reached the last Aid Station that I started to feel the effects of the day catching up to me. That last long stretch was much lonelier than I had expected. No houses, no traffic, no company. I walked a few times and I didn't even know why. It was catching up to me, but I was close enough to make it in still feeling pretty good. The race was a very positive experience for me as I was trying to find out if I had what it takes to race beyond the marathon distance. I guess that's what Ultra's are all about...exploring one's own limitations. I give much praise to the runners who continued past the 50k marker and completed the 50 miler. I drove the course back to the starting line and knew that the 50 mile distance would have to wait for quite a while before I feel I would be ready to tackle such a monster as that.
we lined up in the dark mostly silent checking laces and gear and applying vaseline
the air was cool but promised a wonderful day the sun rose over the lake and we ran the early miles alone and thoughtful
when the hills started we became companions ten miles into our journey and we shared easy stories and smiled the entire time
and then we laughed because the big hills had arrived but actually it was us who not only arrived but conquered
and still the miles passed and the leaves were every shade of autumn and the water sparkled and we ran as new friends sharing the day and the wonder
thirty one miles came almost too soon at a little church where there were sandwiches and congratulations
and we all said goodbye and we'll see each other again and then we left to find other adventures (but first, a shower.)