Subject: *LONG* - JFK Article Written for General Consumption Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1998 22:50:07 -0500 From: Scott Burgess All spelling and grammar errors are typos... **** The JFK 50 Mile Run, held annually in late November as a memorial run in honor of the President, winds through Western Maryland, near Harper's Ferry, West Virginia and the Antietam battlefield. The JFK 50 is the largest ultramarathon in North America in terms of number of finishers, of which there were 9XX in 1998. The race was first run in 1963 (before the assassination), when four men, inspired by JFK's suggestion that well-trained marines should be able to hike 50 miles in 14 hours, took up the challenge and finished the distance in just over 13:10. The event begins at 7 am in downtown Boonsboro, MD, and follows the main drag through the middle of town, which doesn't take long, even if taken at a walking pace. After a flat start, much of the first 2.5 miles or so follows uphill road, curving up the side of a hill that seems significant when covered on foot. Heading up the hill, the group passes Blue Mountain, the site of the nation's first monument to George Washington, 32 feet high and described in guidebooks as being a "crock-shaped" structure.The question of why the good citizens of Boonesboro, Maryland decided to make General Washington's monument "crock-shaped" is, perhaps fortunately, left unresolved. The course continues upward, on the road to the beginning of the 15 mile Appalachian Trail section. This section is mostly (but not exclusively) uphill, and while in some places actually paved (horrors!), seems primarily to consist of rocks of various sizes ... from those a bit smaller than a grapefruit to those the size of a small coffee table ... with a little dirt thrown in between for variety. Running in this kind of terrain, a lot of focus is necessary in order to avoid accidents; a misstep could easily result in a sprained ankle (the most likely possibility) or worse. Not that that a significant injury will automatically stop a particularly determined ultrarunner ... one runner this year suffered a shoulder separation while negotiating the trail section, but continued. I never found out if he finished, but he looked to be doing well (except, of course, for his dangling arm held to his body by a sling) when he passed me around mile 35 or so. I think he might have been a Marine. The AT section was tougher (and certainly seemed rockier) than I recalled from '97. I ran the downhills and the rare flat sections and walked up most of the uphills. In some sections I was forced to walk because of the rocks. Some sections! Hell, I walked a lot of sections (even downhills) of the AT portion because of the rocks, especially after I had a couple of near-misses with the left ankle and got a little more conservative. The last section of this ~15 mile portion switchbacks down some cliffs that are surprisingly treacherous, especially for runners trying to negotiate the trail as quickly as possible. I suspect this is where the guy dislocated his shoulder. Some parts of this stretch are actually quite runnable, but in others a lot of time is spent gingerly stepping down the rocky trail. Unfortunately, this means that the runners never get back the energy investment they made going up the hill in the first place. So even though the JFK has a reputation of an "easy" 50 miler, the first third of the race is actually quite slow for many runners. With the trail section behind them, the runners face a marathon distance (26.2 miles) on the canal towpath along the bank of the Potomac River. This portion makes up the logical and perceptual "middle third" of the race, although in mileage it accounts for just over half. The main problem here (aside from the various physical and mental problems that could come up during any ultra) is boredom. The towpath is, of course, almost perfectly flat, and at many times it seems to the runner to be perfectly straight as well, although a look at a map gives the lie to this misconception. Along the towpath, a different kind of focus is required. On the trail section, the runner's attention is given to moving as quickly as possible over the rugged terrain without injury. On the broad, flat towpath, focus is directed at maintaining an appropriate pace (mostly running, at times slowing for a minute or to a powerwalk for a stretch and a little variety for the ol' leg muscles), monitoring body chemistry (hydration, blood sugar and electrolytes, none of which you will last long without) and, mostly, just maintaining relentless forward progress (known to ultrarunners as "RFP," and a necessary part of any ultra finish). So on the towpath , I just kept on ploddin'. A handful of chocolate covered coffee beans here, a swig of Clip (a replacement drink formulated especially for ultrarunners) there .. here an electrolyte capsule, there an aid station coke. And every once in a while the secret weapon ... a tiny Vitamin B-12 pill. The flat towpath, as well as the following 8+ miles on gently rolling asphalt, move the advantage from the hiker/trailrunner (read: your humble narrator) to the "real runners" (read: everyone else in the JFK , or so it seemed). Does anyone detect the makings of an excuse here? (If you're wondering, I *did* finish, and in a personal record time (by 30 minutes) for the 50 mile distance; nevertheless, my pathetic 11:17:XX , while ultimately inexcusable, does require at least a solitary attempt at a defense, however lame). Ahem. Anyway, the canal towpath is flat, long, and (given the beauty of the Potomac) surprisingly monotonous. The runners have to watch out here, as there is a good chance that at some point on the towpath, they will "Stop Having Fun," at least temporarily, especially if they neglect to monitor and stabilize blood sugar, electrolyte and liquid levels. When a runner "Stops Having Fun," (a phrase always spoken as if capitalized) it becomes a question of how long it will last and how bad it will be. Sometimes this feeling consists of nothing worse than a determination to simply get this challenging job over with - a feeling which, while not "fun," is not particularly painful or unpleasant. At other times, depression, pain, fatigue and/or nausea (or other gastro-intestinal problems) combine to send the runner into a relentless funk that threatens the entire endeavor and sometimes results in the big DNF. These feelings comprise the dreaded "bad patch." To a large extent, success at an ultra consists of eliminating or - more realistically - minimizing the depth and duration of bad patches. This sounds pretty negative, and it certainly can be, but one of the wonderful things about ultras is the unexpected and sudden lifting of a bad patch, which is also likely to occur several times during a race (even if it's "only" a fifty miler!). One minute the runner is unsteadily walking, sometimes almost staggering, feeling that just to walk, much less jog, even another mile is impossible.Then, without notice, the cloud lifts and the pace becomes a strong, steady run. The feeling is euphoric ... there's absolutely no reason to slow to a walk, much less stop. I suspect that this effect is a big part of what draws people to ultras. An unexpected characteristic of this euphoria is that it can pop up at any time in a 50 mile race, as late as 40 miles or later, no matter how badly one may have felt earlier. Thankfully, this happened to me at the JFK several times, the last being at around 42 miles (to be followed by 2 "not having fun" hours, fortunately consisting of nothing much worse than a sincere desire to have the race over with, and soon). The last logical third of the JFK is the road portion, 8.2 miles on asphalt. This portion consists of mild ups and downs with a short flat every once in a while. Runners as slow as I am might find the lights from oncoming traffic to be annoying after dark; speedsters won't have to worry about being out after sundown. Neither will mid-packers, come to think of it. I ended up adopting a brisk, businesslike powerwalk for the last 4 miles along these dark country roads, which cost me a sub-11 hour finish. At this point I knew that I just didn't want it badly enough to make the effort to continue running, except on the particularly easy downhills. I justified this wimpishness by thinking "well, I'm certainly going to beat last year's time, no doubt about that, but it's going to be damn miserable to try to break 11 hours." While it's easy to talk yourself into thinking that way towards the end of an ultra, it's interesting to note that it's impossible to predict in advance what the end of a race will be like. A runner who's having a lucky day might fly for the last 4 miles on a cloud of euphoria. But it wasn't going to be like that for me, not this time anyway. So I walked it in, as briskly as I could. Except, of course, for the last 100 yards or so, so as not to disappoint the spectators waiting at the finish. Scott Burgess NYC