From owner-ultra@caligari.Dartmouth.EDU Tue Aug 26 13:12:30 1997 From: Nikki Robinson Date: Tue, 26 Aug 97 15:11:34 -0500 To: ius-l@american.edu, ultra@caligari.dartmouth.edu Subject: Mt. Rushmore 100: Preface (long) Paha Sapa: The Spirit of the Place Dwells within Me. -------------------------------------------------------------------- "It is the story of all life that is holy and is good to tell, and of us two-leggeds sharing in it with the four-leggeds and the wings of the air and all green things; for these are children of one mother and their father is one Spirit." (from "Black Elk Speaks" by John Neihardt) -------------------------------------------------------------------- The Mount Rushmore 100 is run in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The area gained its name from the plains' Indians -- "Paha Sapa" (hills that are black) -- referring to the prevalent Ponderosa pines that darken the mountains that rise up to over 7000' above the surrounding prairie. The Paha Sapa was a mystical, holy place for the Native Americans of the area. The Paha Sapa was a place to see visions and to purify oneself. Growing up, I spent all my summers in the Black Hills. My grandmother, deceased before I was born, had built a cabin in the Hills about 10 miles west of Rapid City. This family cabin is in a small community called Hisega -- a name created by the initials of seven young women who annually camped in that area during the early part of the century. Rapid Creek meanders through the canyons and in front of the cabin. There I played, swam, fished, explored, and fantasized with my younger sister and brother. We heard stories from my mother about her childhood in the area. It was a wonderful place to grow up. So it was a natural that my first 100 should be the Mount Rushmore offering. I knew little about the race, only in its second year of existence, but I was familiar with the terrain in which it was to be run. I relished the opportunity to return to my old stomping grounds. Even more exciting yet was the opportunity to be with my sister and her husband who live in the cabin as they build their own home in Hisega. My sister, Shelby, called me last fall and announced her pregnancy, her first. The due date was to be July 26-27; the date coincided with the race date! I, of course, asked her to be my crew to which she readily agreed -- it would provide her with a distraction. This baby was to be the first produced amongst my siblings, so I also asked my parents to crew -- it would give them a convenient excuse to grandparent. I drove off to South Dakota arriving two weeks before the race. I wanted as much time to acclimate as possible. Although the race is run at the rather modest elevations of between 3500 and 5800 feet, I knew from past experience that this flat-lander would need a few days to adapt to the thin mountain air. The days before the race were a return to my childhood. The first day there I ran over a mountain on an old logging road to Prairie Creek near an abandoned cabin we called Squeaky's. I remembered tales of Squeaky's son, a Boo-Radley-type-character, that brought chills to our spines as we would explore the remnants. We would picnic and hike and sit in waterfalls in Prairie Creek while watching little brook trout dart through the pools. The next day my sister and I went fishing. We scrambled along slick, tricky banks; we worked the riffles and fished deep pools; we watched Kudzu, Shelb's dog, get swept away by the currents; we caught and released lovely 10 inch browns and rainbows. The next day we played golf on one of the best public courses anywhere. My sister boomed out 200 plus yard drives impressing fellow golfers while I, as in ultras, got my money's worth by striking the ball as often as possible while zig-zagging the fairways. The next day we hiked down the creek along the old abandoned railway bed, now overgrown with wild raspberry and poison ivy patches. While gobbling berries we recalled the various rattlesnake sightings of our youth. I made my sister lead as we returned up creek. And so went the days -- fishing, golfing, hiking. And the race approached. The race. I have been consumed with the question of why we do ultras. And, for me, at least, I've learned that an ultra is an opportunity for self-discovery and self-renewal. It is a confrontation of who I am and where I am going. The Mount Rushmore 100 began to take on spiritual and mystical overtones. It was my opportunity to travel through country that I so loved. It was my opportunity to spend time with my family -- to observe my sister in the splendid wonder of pregnancy -- to rejoice in the thought that a new generation would grow to live in this place. The Paha Sapa -- the spirit of the place dwells within me. Nikki Nikki Robinson Chicago, IL nikki@meena.feinberg.nwu.edu