KUS News
The sole mission of our society is to organize, sponsor, staff and support ultrarunning events/competition in Kansas and the surrounding region. Our vision is to create an atmosphere that fosters not only the enlightenment of the novice ultrarunner, but nurtures the needs of the veteran ultrarunner as well.
Volume 2, Issue 1 January 2001
In This Issue
Briefing
from the Crew
By Stacy Sheridan Page 1
Chosen Hell--A Journey Through the Valley of Life!
By Eric Steele Page 1
KUS Annual Meeting Notes
By Stacy Sheridan Page 3
Grand Canyon Run
By Leo Rutten Page 7
KUS-cipes Page 8
And much, much more..............
By Stacy Sheridan
KUS President
Greetings to all,
As this year opens, I am reflecting on this past year and looking forward to the new year, our KUS family has grown and the organization is quickly budding out, ready to bloom with our spring events. A renewal from the snows and cold of winter, brings spring rains and flowers, green grass and budding trees, you can almost feel the warm breeze, can’t you? This past year seemed to fly by, with the start of this newsletter, the inaugural Heartland race, the new KUS member of the year award (see KUS meeting notes in this issue) as well as our established races, KUS had a great year.
As everyone has probably noticed the last newsletter was out three months ago, partly because I haven’t had the time to work on it, but mostly because I didn’t have anything to put in it! So please send or email me with any news, announcements, recipes, race reviews, race stories, training runs, anything! If you have something to include but don’t feel comfortable writing it, I would be glad to edit it for you, just let me know. I would also like to fill in the RFP column; it’s a little bare, so send me your race schedules.
One last note, 36 members have renewed their memberships, that means that 16 haven’t. KUS provides a lot for your dues dollars, $5.00 off any KUS event, this newsletter, entry forms, and of course exclusive membership in our little family, send those renewals in today!
As ever, in your service,
Stacy
P.S. My email is sheridan@grapevine.net
By Eric Steele
(Dedicated to my stellar crew: Warren Bushey, David Bushey & Jamaica Sheridan)
Intro: Nearly six years ago, I sat reading the coverage of the Badwater Ultramarathon in my latest copy of Ultrarunning and began thinking what type of personality, character and endurance these exceptional individuals who competed in this event possessed. Was it Zen mastery? Had they reached nirvana, maybe satori, or possibly found the Holy Grail? Or, were they total idiots out on a wish to help uphold the name of the valley? I didn’t know. What I did know, deep inside my being was that I would have to personally find out. With temperatures in Death Valley typically reaching 145+ degrees (zero to five feet above the pavement), one would have to be able to go to a very special place inside oneself to maintain composure, let alone finish the race. In this essence, the Badwater Ultramarathon would be as much of a spiritual journey; a "vision quest" if you will, as it would be a test of physical endurance and mental will power, thus my journey into the proverbial "Twilight Zone" began. Oh yeah, let’s clarify exactly what the race, or maybe I should call it, "challenge" consists of.
In August of 1977 Al Arnold became the first person to go from Badwater (-282 feet below sea level) to the summit of Mt. Whitney (14,496 feet above sea level). The core idea of the challenge being to go from the lowest point in the western hemisphere to the highest point in the contiguous United States. The distance Al covered was about 147 miles that included three mountain ranges with approximately 20,000 feet of total climb, through the most extremely scorching temperatures known to humankind. I can’t neglect to mention part of the challenge was that this little journey had to take place in either July or August and start sometime from 6 AM-Noon. Al finished his journey in 84 hours. Four years later Jay Birmingham took the challenge and finished in a time of 75 hours and 34 minutes. Thus, the race/challenge was somewhat unofficially underway.
A couple of years later, due to complications from the National Forest and Park Service of California, runners who were competing had to officially stop at the Whitney Portal (8,371 feet above sea level) and were actually required to obtain a permit to go the rest of the way up the Whitney Trail to the summit of Mt. Whitney. Since this time, somewhat of a schism has occurred between competitor’s opinions as to what the official race/challenge is. After all, you have to apply for a permit to climb the Whitney Trail by February 1st and this is through a lottery system. So, what is a competitor to do if they can’t get a permit to go up the Whitney Trail? Well, either take your chances that a Park Ranger won’t stop you that day and ask to see your permit, or don’t finish the race/challenge. Oh sure, you can complete the 135 miles to the Whitney Portal where the race has to officially stop, however, this ultrarunner/writer sides with the traditionalists in the core belief that the race/challenge is NOT officially over, until you reach the summit of Mt. Whitney. Let me remind you, as stated in the previous paragraph, the original challenge is NOT from lowest to almost the highest, it IS from the lowest to the highest, being Badwater to the summit of Mt. Whitney. So, even though 49 runners names showed up in October’s issue of Ultrarunning as finishing this race, my belief will always be that only the eleven of us who reached the summit of Mt. Whitney actually FINISHED the race/challenge for 2000.
Day 1: My alarm went off at 6 AM, Thursday morning July 27th --race day, I looked up to see two of my three crew members sound asleep, not stirring a peep--a problem that I soon realized would plague us for the entire journey. I was amazed that I had actually gotten to sleep the night before by 11 PM and felt very rested. I stepped outside our spacious lodge room at Panamint Springs (72 miles into the course) and began checking over the mini-van to insure all decals and race numbers had been displayed prominently and in the right location. I chuckled heartily as I looked at the 2 foot plastic Godzilla strapped to the roof and read the special signs plastered on three sides of the mini-van I had made for my crew that read; "My drinking team has a serious crewing problem." This ought to piss the overly serious athletes off, let alone the teetotalers in the group, I thought to myself. I didn’t care, for many times over the past several months I had very prophetic dreams in which the recurring theme continued to be humor. The message I constantly awoke with was that if I could keep laughing, I would definitely finish the event. In one dream, I actually had coyotes and lizards speaking to me and laughing at me. When I told them they weren’t supposed to be able to talk or laugh, they told me if the Budweiser frogs and lizards could talk then certainly they were entitled to do the same. Indeed, the special signs and several joke books I packed along, not to mention the bunjy-headed, heat-induced humor that soon ensued, proved to be the Godsend I had envisioned in my earlier dreams.
By 8 AM, my chosen starting time out of 6, 8, or 10 AM, the temperature had already reached 110 degrees five feet above the ground. The high temperature of the day at this vertical level would top out somewhere around 145 degrees before the day was out. Early in the race a Voice inside my being kept constantly welcoming me back home. When I would question it’s statement, the Voice would merely tell me, "you know what I’m talking about." "Who are you?" I asked. "You Know!" It replied. At that point, I quit questioning who the Voice was, I knew. I also knew if I listened to what the Voice told me, like I had at Leadville a year earlier, that I would finish this epic adventure even though I had no real idea of the fiery torture I was about to endure. Around this time I also began to ponder and synthesize two of the greatest religious theologies on the concept of sin and atonement.
Ancient Tibetan Buddhism taught that transgressions for past lives and this one were atoned for by walking many, many miles. Hence, the multi-day treks through the Himalayas and the reason nearly all Tibetan monasteries (many of which have now been destroyed by the Chinese government) were built high and deep into the mountains. Likewise, traditional Native American lore teaches us that one can purge the evil spirits from oneself by meditating while you sweat. Hence, the strong Native American tradition of "sweatboxes" as they came to be known and are still to this day referred to as that by most people talking about a sauna in a health club. Now, it suddenly dawned on me, that the journey I was embarking upon was a combination of these two great theologies, whose ultimate function is to sacredly cleanse oneself. I was immediately awestruck and thankful that I was being given the opportunity to spiritually cleanse myself in accordance with two great religious traditions. I was then quickly reminded by the Voice inside that I had chosen this mission and that only with faith in something much greater than myself would I be allowed to pass through the inferno and climb the stairway of heaven up to the pearly gates at the Mt. Whitney summit. Additionally, the Voice kept saying; "Remember Eric, you will have to find the faith in your heart, not in your head--in your heart, not your head." I played this statement over and over as the midday heat began to set in.
I arrived at Stovepipe Wells (41 miles into the course) a little before 5 PM and stopped to cool off in the swimming pool at the lodge and eat something. Upon entering the pool and swimming into the deep end, I began developing stomach cramps that had me immediately climbing out and heading into the bathhouse to start doing battle (punching myself in the stomach, hard) with the alien trying to blast its way out of the left side of my abdomen. The pain was fierce and my stomach was bulging out at least 3-4 inches. Then, I started feeling as if I had to heave. Horrified, I knew if I starting blowing chow now, my stomach would totally lock and I would either choke on my own vomit or suffocate. At this point I reverently and faithfully asked my Maker (the Voice) to either take me, or subside the cramps, of which the second request was granted.
I made my way back out of the bathhouse and asked Jamaica to retrieve a couple of trash bags as I fell into a lounge chair. A couple of minutes later I was heaving up gallon loads, yes gallon loads of...well, you know... multi-colored and grotesquely textured stuff. I was glad I had Jamaica bring me two bags, there is no way one could have held it all-needless to say, I am sure she was glad too, since she had the honorable duty of disposing my vile proceeds. Immediately an incredible peace swept over me. My cramps were gone, I had expelled everything that needed to come up, now all I would need to do is focus on re-hydrating and re-fueling myself before going back out on the course. This would prove to be much more challenging than I originally thought, as I consciously faded in and out over the next two hours. Later on the next day my crew would report to me that several times during this period, when I had faded out, that I had quit breathing entirely and only after shaking me, or patting my cheek, did I return to consciousness and the consumption of air. I wasn’t able to tell them until after the race was over that during this period I had "seen the proverbial light" twice, however, knew and was told repeatedly by the Voice that it was not my time to pass from this material state of existence yet. Each time I awoke from this surreal dream state, my crew members were all standing around looking at me like Dorothy from Wizard of Oz after returning from Oz to find herself in her own bed.
By the time I made it back out onto the course, night was beginning to set in. It took me over an hour to stumble two miles down the highway and my crewmembers told me I was redefining the word incoherence by my heroic, yet crazed effort. It was at this point we (mainly my crew) decided I had to get out of the heat and lay down for a while, if there was ever a chance to recover from my heat-induced torture. Unfortunately, we had a 45-minute drive (each way) from where I staked my flag to our room at Panamint Springs. I never remember laying down in bed at our room in Panamint Springs, I only remember waking up around 11:30 PM and thinking what a waste of money, training and time this had all been. It just wasn’t going to pan out for me this year. I laid my head back down on the pillow and began contemplating where I had gone wrong and what I would have to do different next year if I really wanted to finish.
As I quietly lay there, listening to Warren snore, the Voice inside began gently, yet firmly asking me questions like: "Do you realize you have 44 hours left to get to the finish line (Whitney Portal)? Do you know you are much more coherent now than you were just 3 hours ago? Eric, can you get up? Are you still breathing?" I answered yes to all of these questions...inside my head, but my body didn’t budge. I then remembered what the Voice had told me about finding faith in my heart. I played through my head all of my fears and motivations for ever wanting to attempt this extreme event over the course of the next ten minutes, as I continued laying there in bed. Then, the Voice commanded me to STOP! "STOP, the analysis paralysis." It told me in a very firm, yet serene tone: "You must get out of your head and into your heart, if you want to finish this challenge. You must put all of your passion power and soul juice into this undertaking and realize that it will take you several days to pull it off. Do what you can do, right now, with the fullness of your purest essence (heart) and let me take care of the rest. Deal?" "Yes, deal!" I replied out loud as Jamaica asked me who I was talking to. My Maker, I replied, as I got up and began preparing myself to reengage with the valley.
At approximately 1 AM, I returned to the course where I had staked my flag and began the nearly 20 mile death march up to Towne Pass, going from 5 feet above sea-level to 5,000, this being the first of the three major climbs on the course. Talk about an unrelenting uphill climb that made me feel like I had cinder blocks for feet, and at night, it truly seemed like it would go on forever, never ending slow agony, pay for your sins boy, pay...! Warren, David and Jamaica took turns pacing me up the torturous climb, primarily to make sure I didn’t slip off into LaLa Land and start wandering around in the desert looking for some talking lizards, or chuckling coyotes to party with.
Day 2: When I reached the top of Towne Pass, 24 hours had passed, as I began my second day of chosen hell by stopping for a short break and dining on some ground breakfast sausage and eggs along with a few slices of honeydew melon. I started running down the steep 12-mile descent into Panamint Springs and immediately noticed sharp pains in my stomach where I had encountered my major cramping problems the day before. The difficulty was that the incline was so steep, I was nearly forced to run, plus I felt somewhat revived after making it to the top of Towne Pass and refueling, so I wanted to run. Now, I was reduced to somewhat of a gimp-legged hobble. However, the view coming down into Panamint Valley is stupendous, to say the least, and I began moving through my pain as I gave thanks to all Creation.
The closer I actually got to the bottom (Panamint Springs Resort/72.5 miles) of the descent, the more the temperature began to climb and climb and climb... By the time I reached the floor of the valley, it was over 120 degrees and only 11 AM. I was looking forward to resting in our room at Panamint Springs for a couple of hours and sent Warren and Jamaica ahead (4 miles) to procure late check out for us. Upon returning to tell me that the resort-keeper said "no way" I had my only "little episode" of the entire adventure. Needless to say, I put the durability of an Ultimate Direction water bottle to the test, and it passed. I then had a few choice expletives for the resort-keeper over the next few miles and by the time I actually arrived at the resort had blown off my additional steam and was content in knowing at least the resort provided a hospitality suite for runners where we could lay down and cool off for a while.
I rested for a little over an hour, downed part of a cheeseburger and fries while my crew got the extra stuff out of our room, then we were off. It was around 1:30 PM and about 135 degrees five feet above the pavement, as I began the second of the three major climbs on this course-going from about 1,000 feet above sea-level to about 5,500 in about 17 miles. Baby steps, plus slow and steady were my mantras for the rest of the afternoon as I climbed out of Panamint Valley. I had a hanky with ice rolled in it tied around my neck (a suggestion from another competitor, Erika Gerhardt), which really helped keep me much cooler than I had been able to stay the day before coming out of Badwater. At about 6:30 PM, I hit the 85-mile mark on the course and was feeling very fatigued. I knew I only had fifty miles to go, but I had never really recovered from yesterday’s little run in with the desert demon and I knew the night would be even rougher than the previous one if I didn’t at least partially recuperate, not to mention my crew needed an extended break as well. I decided to stake my flag and go into the Dow Villa Motel, in Lone Pine (123 mile mark on course) to rest, ice my swollen ankles and refuel. This would later prove to be a very wise decision on my part and I am glad my crew was in agreement with my plan.
We all took a nice hot shower, dined on Hawaiian pizza (pineapple & Canadian bacon), I iced and elevated my ankles, then got a wonderful leg massage from Jamaica. Lights went out at 8:30 PM with the alarm set for 11:30 PM. When the alarm went off, I was out of bed instantly, feeling very refreshed and ready to kick some ass now and take names later, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, the rest of my crew wasn’t sharing my missionary zeal and I had to resort to motivational tactics, military style. By the time we were driving away from the motel, Warren was a little pissed at me, to say the least. However, we were back out on the course, heading out to where I staked my flag, so we could resume the vision quest that had started several years ago in my life. I felt euphoric, the night was magical and I couldn’t wait to get back out there. Little did I know, what I was feeling now, was only the beginning of what was soon to turn into the most incredible night run I have ever experienced.
At 12:45 AM, with a glow stick in my pocket, reflective tape strategically pasted on my running shorts and a Sony Walkman strapped to my hips, blasting everything from Rush to Mozart, I proceeded to engage in a 38 mile journey that to this moment has left me nearly speechless. Normally, the stars light up the night sky, however, because of the smoke created by nearby wildfires there was no light coming from the stars or moon--it was truly pitch black out there, with the exception of the two-foot glow that radiated from the glow stick in my pocket. The night was cool compared to the furnace we had been in the last two days and running came effortlessly as the entire landscape engulfed me in it’s big beautiful blackness. David attempted to pace me for a few miles, but soon decided my pace was a little too fast for his semi-burnout self and retired back to the mini-van for some much needed rest. Additionally, I wanted all of my crewmembers to rest as much as possible in preparation for the Mt. Whitney ascent, so I had encouraged him to go back and rest for a while longer and was glad he did. I then proceeded to rip off ten minute miles for the next thirty miles in what, so far, will go down as the most mesmerizing night fun run I have ever been fortunate enough to engage in. Initially, during the first few miles, I was somewhat frightened as my crew vehicle’s taillights were engulfed into the darkness around the next bend while they sped off to meet me at the next mile marker. However, after getting internal confirmation from the Voice that there was truly nothing to fear, but fear itself, a peaceful and energetic tranquility filled my entire being as I began moving through the night, feeling like I was defying the time-space curve and running straight into the heart of the Twilight Zone.
Day 3: By the time 8 AM rolled around on the third day of our journey, I was about four miles outside of Lone Pine and feeling like I had been born again. My ankles were swollen and sore, but thankfully I had developed no blisters. I was planning to ice them one more time and rest for a couple of hours in Lone Pine, however, right now Warren and David were keeping me plenty amused with early morning antics like sending my water bottles, several hundred yards down the road to me, strapped on the back of a remote control jeep. At this point, I felt very confident that I would make it to the Whitney Portal within the sixty-hour time limit. I began to gently sob, realizing that notwithstanding a major disaster, I was close to the achievement of my most major ultra-goal, possibly life-goal, to date. The tears flowed several more times during the course of the day, and unlike my usual reaction to tears (trying to push them back), now I just let them flow. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t sad, I just was. With each teardrop shed, I felt a small piece of my ego melt away to uncover a much larger piece of my heart. Humbly, I floated on the virtual ethers of my planetary existence into Lone Pine around 9 AM. I went to my room at the Dow Villa and immediately iced and elevated my ankles, while Warren cooked off breakfast sausage and pancakes that were graciously woofed down hastily and much appreciated by everyone. Jamaica, kindly rubbed my ankles and calves as I concentrated on visualizing the final stretch to the Whitney Portal.
I laid there until 11 AM, at which point I re-lubed my feet and set out for the final leg to the Portal, part of the third and final of the three major climbs on this course, this one being, of course, the toughest of the three, going from about 3,800 feet above sea-level to the summit of Mt. Whitney at 14,496 feet above sea-level, completed in two separate stages. The grade on the pavement out of Lone Pine turns sharply upward almost immediately upon leaving the outskirts of this small town that has an overabundance of charisma and charm, much like Leadville, Colorado. The Beatles song: The Long and Winding Road was a very applicable metaphor for this final leg of the journey to the Portal and my crew continued to amuse me by blasting it several times throughout the next few hours. Baby steps, plus slow and steady, once again became my mantra, as I slowly ascended into the heavens, gently and respectfully thanking all of Creation that I would most likely make it in under 56 hours to the Portal. I rounded the final bend of the long winding road and my crew members joined me, as we merrily sang "We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz," and skipped across the finish line in 55:45:55, thus I became the first Kansan to officially finish the Badwater 135 Marathon. Race Director, Chris Kostman, hung the much-coveted Finisher’s Medal around my neck and took a few finishers’ pictures. Even though I wouldn’t score a belt buckle this year (sub 48 hour finish required), I could hardly contain my elation. However, the Voice reminded me, I was not really through with the original challenge until we crested the peak of Mt. Whitney. But, that was tomorrow, and for now I was looking forward to an ice-cold beer, a nice hot Jacuzzi and several hours of consecutive sleep. I flopped myself into the mini-van and we headed back down the mountainside for Lone Pine and some hard-earned creature comforts.
Warren said that at sixteen and due to the fact of how well the kid had hung in there, David was old enough to partake in a toast with all of us by consuming one beer, which he ever so confidently accepted and downed in several gulps before heading down to the Jacuzzi with the rest of us. We attended the post-race party that evening at the local high school and gorged ourselves on fresh pizza, while each of the race participants stood up and gave a short testimonial to the audience on their Badwater experience. I surprised my crew members by giving them all a Badwater fleece pullover for their undying efforts in this massive undertaking and expressed my sincere thanks to everyone (Badwater Race Staff) responsible for giving us the opportunity to "walk on the sun" the past several days. We retired by 10 PM that night, however, I didn’t get to sleep until well after 11, due to Warren’s initial bouts with intense snoring that had me and David doing everything from begging to commanding him, to roll over and stop. Finally, silence set in and I drifted off to eat Moon Pies with Sandman and the dancing sheep. I was just starting to groove with this really fine mutton when the alarm went off at 4 AM and Mt. Whitney began gently and seductively whispering to me. This was it; this was the day we got passage to the Promised Land! I was fully awake immediately and to my surprise, so was Warren, he popped right out of bed and began rustling David, I knew the mountain must have been sharing some of her romantic dialogue with him as well.
Day 4: Time stood still as Warren, David and myself set out from the Whitney Portal for the summit to finish the third climb and the overall challenge (Badwater to Mt. Whitney summit), it was a little before 6 AM and still dark enough to use our flashlights as we began our communion with this sacred mound. We were blessed with a beautiful day and with the exception of the smoke from a nearby wildfire, which limited visibility considerably, it was a journey into the heavens and up to the pearly gates of "the lower 48" beyond compare. The ascent was filled with stories of wine, women and song, not to mention things that could be done with small animals like woodchucks and squirrels along with a little bit of duct tape--but, I’ll save those stories for a future Flat Rock campfire. By the time we reached the Mt. Whitney summit, 77:53:19 had passed since we started the clock over three days ago in Badwater. Warren was truly a "Purple Flurp" due to lack of oxygen and David could barely write his name in the registry at the mountain shelter, however, the look of sheer exhilaration that was firmly planted on both of their faces will keep me smiling forever, they were both so proud of themselves and rightfully so, I was thoroughly glowing, as well. I honestly couldn’t draw a line between whether I was happier for them, or for myself, and it really didn’t matter. We took several pictures there on top of the contiguous 48 states, while we dined on various flavors of Jolly Ranchers and basked in our human achievement that was allowing us all to have such an incredible spiritual experience. Time was once again, standing still.
Shortly before we made our descent, we were fortunate enough to run into two other competitors who finished the entire crossing also (Rick Nawrocki and Barbara Elia). We stopped briefly to congratulate them and take a couple of pictures, and then we were off. The first portion of our descent was a little challenging due to David and Warren suffering from altitude sickness, which I assured them would subside as we descended from the altitude. By the time we were down to about 12,000 feet they were both feeling much better and a blissful serenity began to nestle in amongst us that would last for the rest of our descent together. Trees spoke softly, rocks sang sweetly and the water hummed a gentle melody in the background, as we all quietly and reverently descended this hallowed mountain, thankful she had shared her timeless beauty and boundless wonder so graciously with us all. We reached the bottom (Whitney Portal) just a little before 8 PM, 83:54:55, to be exact. So, nearly 160 miles after heading out into some of the most brutal, yet strikingly beautiful terrain on the face of Mother Earth, my journey into the wondrous land beyond our normal dimension had reached it’s eminent end. I climbed into the mini-van, forever changed, humbler and much closer to my Maker--the Voice inside me that had coached and guided me through this epic adventure.
Afterword: Over numerous ultras, the past few years, I have built a list of products, methodologies, philosophies, etc...that have stood the test of time, or should I say ultra-abuse. The first being the foot goop developed by Andrew Lovy found on page 60 of Fixing Your Feet by John Vonhof. Early in my ultrarunning career I was constantly plagued with blister problems 25-30 miles into races. I have now put the Lovy goop to the test in many different ultras, the most significant being the Leadville Trail 100 through many stream crossings and over mountain passes for nearly 30 hours and now, through the ultimate test of 190-200 degree surface heat for 135 miles over a 55 hour period during Badwater. Amazingly, I have developed NO blisters. The viscosity of the Lovy goop is exceptional and the only requirement is to reapply the goop every 3-4 hours when you feel the hotspots starting to creep up. Oh yeah, and don’t change your socks. No matter how nasty they feel, don’t change them.
The next exceptional product I have been using is Painsend Self-Molding Insoles (Orthotics) designed by Dr. Jay Hoffmann. My left foot has no arch in it whatsoever, totally flat. In my first two 100 mile completions, I developed major ankle inflammation on the inside of my left ankle and could hardly get my foot into my shoe after 70 miles. Ever since I started using the insoles a little over a year ago, I have experienced very little pain and absolutely no debilitating swelling like before, not to mention I wore the same pair of shoes and insoles for the entire duration of Badwater.
Sportslick worked way better than Vaseline for controlling chaffing under the arms and in the crotch area and genuine Band-Aid brand band aids stuck to my nipples (to eliminate chaffing) during the entire event and never had to be re-applied, unlike generic brands I have used in the past. Loads of Conquest, Mountain Dew and water were the primary beverages I consumed. Foods mainly consisted of red grapes, peanut butter & honey sandwiches, pudding, chips and Cup-O-Noodles. We also took several breaks and dined on breakfast sausage and scrambled eggs or pancakes, which really hit the spot, I might add--must have been all of the grease we left in the pan after cooking off the sausage and then adding the eggs without draining any of it. Yummy!
Unlike nearly all other ultras, Badwater requires one be a master of interpersonal politics. After all, you must recruit, organize, instruct and motivate a minimum of two crew members who are willing to take eight days (two or three of which are spent in the intense Death Valley heat with the runner, as it is not advisable to run the air-conditioning in the mini-van because it puts too much stress on the engine and chances of over-heating are greatly increased) of their personal life and devote it to the vision quest. The only chance in heaven the runner has to finish this quest is held in the hands and hearts of these precious individuals. Therefore, the runner must enroll them (crewmembers) fully in the quest and make it as much theirs as it is his/hers. The runner need only pray that his/her crewmembers get along well enough so one of them doesn’t rip the other’s spleen out and leave it to wither in the midday sun--wither...yeah right, more like roast, bake, fry, etc... With the exception of needing to give David and Warren a few rude awakenings so we could "get back in the game," my crew members, Jamaica Sheridan, Warren and David Bushey, performed extraordinarily well and kept themselves collected and in an enthusiastic spirit throughout the duration of the event, not to mention all of the frivolity and clowning that made for an incredibly diversified experience and memories that will be etched into our collective mind and soul forever. I will always love and deeply appreciate these three individuals who co-pioneered this metaphysical journey into the unknown with me. I could not, nor would I have ever wanted to attempt crossing "the Valley of Life" without these three "true warriors." Again, I hold all of you in my heart and soul forever!
Now that Badwater to Mount Whitney Crossing #1 has been behind me for nearly six months, I am starting to fully realize that some people’s egos die harder than others and some never die at all, realizing, of course, the subtle yet very distinct differences between ego and healthy self-esteem. To look at myself honestly and say that ultrarunning and events like Badwater is a way I have been able to kill my own ego, instead of feeding it, has brought me to a new level of maturity and humility, while giving me keen insight into the collective human potential, which ultimately molds me closer to a true champion, not just in ultrasport, but in life and my overall approach to life, as well.
In closing, I am still trying to figure out between the Grand Canyon and Death Valley, which one is more mystical and full of the strongest kinetic energy I have ever deeply felt on this planet, in this lifetime. Either way, the overwhelming feeling of fully communing with one of the most incredible natural sanctuaries known to humankind was magnanimously beautiful, much more so than any feeling I have ever felt in a human made sanctuary--and to think they call this place Death Valley, what grand irony! For, I will always believe it’s a "Valley of Life." The Valley of Life that taught me, here on Mother Earth, we are all spiritual beings having a human experience and it is totally up to us to choose what type of experience we ultimately have! Realizing, the most important piece of sage advice is to constantly ask yourself: "Have I had one lately?" After all, as Winston Churchill once said: "We didn’t come across the plains, foothills and valleys, climb the mountains, and sail the oceans because we are made of sugar candy." Go have an experience!
RELENTLESS FORWARD PROGRESS
WHERE KUS MEMBERS PLAN
TO RUN AND RACE
1/1/01 Fat Ass 50K, Cameron MO
2/3/01 Rocky Raccoon, Huntsville, TX
4/7/01 Rockin K Trail Run, Kanopolis State Lake, KS
3/17/01 Cross Timbers Trail Run, Lake Texoma, TX
4/28/01 Lake McMurtry 50 K, Stillwater OK
10/13/01 Heartland Spirit of the Prairie, Cassoday, KS
9/29/01 Flat Rock, Independence, KS
3/01 Kentucky Ultra Trail Sojourn
1/21/01 San Diego Marathon-Warm and Sunny Southern, CA
3/24/01 GNC 100Km-Pittsburgh, PA
4/7/01 Rockin K 50M!
4/28/01 Lake McMurtry 50Km-Stillwater, OK
4/29/01 OKC Memorial Marathon-OKC, OK
8/25/01 Cascade Crest Classic 100M-Cle Elum, WA
10/7/01 Chicago Marathon
10/21/01 Wichita Marathon
11/10/01 Quivering Quads 50Km-Troy, MO
2/3/01 Rocky Raccoon, Huntsville, TX
4/7/01 Rockin K Marathon, Kanopolis State Park, KS
3/11/01 Brew to Brew, Kansas City, KS
4/21/01 KUS 12/24 hour, Wichita, KS
6/2/01 Kettle Moraine, Eagle WI
4/7/01 Rockin K Trail Run, Kanopolis State Park, KS
4/21/01 KUS 12/24 Hour run, Wichita, KS
4/21/01 KUS 12/24, Wichita, KS
* Tentative plans
Presque Isle
Personal Endurance Classic, 12 Hour, Erie PA
John Lowrey called me to tell me about the 12 hour race he did in Erie PA on October 21st, 2000. He had a good run, doing 36 miles; the course was mostly concrete with a little dirt. It was a 1-mile loop, warm on one side and cool on the other with the wind coming off Lake Erie. He said this race is very well organized, and scoring was done by punching holes in tags carried by the runners. John hopes to do the Bismark ND next to qualify for Boston.
Good Luck John and we’ll see you in April!
By Stacy Sheridan
Thanks to Marc Friesen for taking notes for me and to Randy Albrecht for opening his home to us once more.
The KUS annual meeting was held on December 16th with about one third of our membership attending. Below is a short summary of the topics we discussed.
The Heartland 100 will be held again next year on October 13, 2001 with a 50-mile race to be added. We had some positive feedback from some of the participants and the City of Cassoday. Some improvements discussed included, adding another unmanned aid station between the start/finish and the first manned aid station, better course marking with more frequent markings and glow sticks, possible solutions for better communications between aid stations as cell phones didn’t always work well, KUS will provide a post race breakfast at the community building, the pre-race meal will be decided at a later date by the RDs. The entry fee was discussed and $100 for the 100-mile, $50 for the 50-mile was decided upon for the early entry. Medallions will be given to the 50-mile participants instead of belt buckles. Randy would like some ideas for the overall winners’ awards, he is looking for something that says "Kansas". If anyone has an idea please let Randy know.
The spring timed event has been changed to a 12/24, the amount of time involved for volunteers is the main reason for the change, finding enough people for 48 hours has always been our biggest problem with this event. We are also looking for a new Co-director, if anyone of our members would like get involved with this event please contact one of the board members or Eric Steele. Race directing experience is not necessary.
The trail clean-up weekend for Flatrock has been moved to September 8/9, the week after the Labor Day weekend, for several reasons, to avoid the heat, some members are vacationing on Labor Day and to get the clean-up a week closer to the race.
With the amount of race equipment KUS has accumulated over the years we are quickly approaching the necessity of a trailer to store and transport it in. The trailer fund has been established for quite a awhile and now has a balance of $350.00. We are looking to buy a used trailer, possibly 6’x8’ and estimates are around $1200 to $1500. All profits from our merchandising efforts will now go into this fund. If anyone finds a good deal on a trailer please let one of the board members know.
We discussed merchandise options and agreed most of our merchandise will be focused on the Heartland 100 event, possibly adding other items, while still offering general KUS gear. An order form will be sent with each race confirmation.
We decided to place a full-page ad in UltraRunning featuring all four of our events with a generic entry form that can be used to enter any of the KUS events.
Marc Friesen and I were exchanging emails prior to the KUS meeting, discussing agenda topics and so forth, when Marc mentioned if KUS had an ultrarunner of the year, he thought Randy Albrecht would be the clear winner this year. The qualifications for this award were based on service and support to the club and our sport in general first, and racing performance next. We both felt Randy exceeded these qualifications by his taking on the Race Directorship of the Heartland race, volunteering at every KUS event he wasn’t running in, he attended every one of Marc’s 100 mile races for moral support, and his racing performance at Rockin K, Kettle Moraine 100, and Ultracentric, doing all of this in his own quiet and modest way. Marc and I emailed Scott Demaree our VP and with his concurrence we decided to award the inaugural KUS Member of The Year award to Randy. The award this year was a $25.00 gift certificate to First Gear in Wichita, with subsequent awards to be gift certificates of a more generic kind, perhaps to Road Runner Sports or the like and a traveling award that the recipient will keep for the year and then pass on to the next winner.
Nominations can be taken throughout the year and a form will
be mailed with the annual meeting announcement. If there is no clear consensus
on a winner, the KUS board will make the final decision with our Board Advisor
breaking any ties. We know there are members out there doing so much for this
sport in their own modest way, that we never hear about, so please nominate
that deserving person!
By Leo Rutten
Bill Smith and I ran the Grand Canyon last Saturday the 11th. We traveled about 31 miles as near as we could figure it out. We started at the South Kaibab Trailhead at 7am. It took us about 2 hours to reach Phantom Ranch where we stopped for a water break and a cup of coffee. We then continued up north on the Bright Angel Trail. We decided early on that the north rim was unattainable to us that day due to a late start and the snow on each rim. So we ran and walked to Ribbon falls about 6.6 miles north on Bright Angle Trail. The falls were really pretty this time of year. Bill says it was not running as much water as usual. We explored around the falls and took a break there for lunch and started back. We arrived much quicker at Phantom this time since it was all down hill and we ran most of the way back. We took a longer break at Phantom this time and bought a t shirt and a cup only available at Phantom. We left there at 1:40pm and started up the Bright Angel Trail. We encountered snow and ice on the trail about at the three mile hut so it was slow going from there to the top. We arrived at the top at 5:45pm 10hours15minutes and 28 seconds from our starting time. We were both pleased with our time and our trip. Bill was in a lot better shape than myself and we could have probably done it faster if I wouldn't have held him back. I have new resolve to get into better shape and get my weight down again. We started at an altitude of 7200 ft at South Kaibab Trailhead to Phantom at 2480, then back up to 3750 at Ribbon Falls then back down to Phantom at 2480 and up Bright Angel to 6860. For a net gain and loss of about 6000 feet, whew! Beautiful trip, and ready to do it again, next time earlier in the year and when we have more daylight. We were grateful to Rob and Ann Parker for feeding us great pasta the night before and cinnamon rolls the morning of. Rob was going with us but he had a bad cold and needed to go to Tucson to visit his ailing mother. Jane and I had a great time traveling to and from and had a nice round of golf in Albuquerque. Lots of snow around the canyon and Flagstaff so it was really showcased in beauty. Probably more than you needed to know but that's it. We're planning an October trek next year if any of you are interested.
Editors note: Leo emailed this to me in November and I ask
him if I could include it in our newsletter. S.
"A man must love a thing very much if he not only practices
it without any
hope of fame and money, but even practices it without any hope of
doing it well."
-
G. K. Chesterton
In keeping with this issue’s Badwater report the following recipe was sent to me, possibly telling us some people spent too much time in the desert... S.
Ultrarunners Scrambled Brains Serves 4
1 Runner; 3 Crew members
Cover ¼ pound ultrarunners brains with cold water, add 1-1/2 tsp. Vinegar. Soak 30 minutes; drain. Remove loose fatty membrane, or bad road crew members.
Cover brains with water; add ½ tsp salt (to any open wounds), simmer 20 to 30 minutes, or 3-4 miles depending on length of race or condition of runner.
Drain, chill in cold water, slap runner 2 to 3 times depending on response. Finely chop brains (the road crew loves this part).
Brown in 2 tablespoons butter. Add 4 beaten eggs or non-runners, 1-tablespoon milk, and ¼ tsp salt, add runners’ brains. Cook until eggs are done. Serve.