Lapped By the Sun:
By John Prohira
Bear Bells
"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
peace, John