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 1, Issue 3 August
2000
In This
Issue
Briefing from the Crew
By Stacy Sheridan
An Ultrarunner Is:
By Eric Sharpe
KUS 24 Hour Run Report
By Dann Fisher
Kettle Moraine 100 Report
By Marc Friesen
The Mysterious Magnet and Athletic Performance
By Scott Demaree
Reflections on Denali
By Don Mrozek
KUS-cipes
Briefing from the Crew
We are headed off to Leadville in a few days, one of my favorite races to crew! Long before Phil started running, while on vacation we discovered Leadville Colorado. We had set off for Colorado with just a map and no real destination in mind, just to go to the mountains. As we drove through Leadville and the surrounding area we were already making plans to come back the next year. We walked around Turquoise Lake and explored abandoned mines in snowfall in August, bought books on the history of the town and Baby Doe Tabor. We had truly found our Shangri-la, the place where our souls were at peace and our spirits renewed. When we came back the next year we found that due to the pending Superfund pollution plan, every national chain of business had pulled out of town. Every business in town was now locally owned or shut down. We had the feeling that Leadville might become another ghost town. We mourned for the town and hoped they would make it through this trying time to come back healthier and stronger than before.
That was the first year we stayed at the Silver King Motel, at the time it was the best one in town. And although there are newer more modern motels now, we will be staying at the Silver King again this year, for us a sentimental journey back. Every year when we go back to Leadville the town has changed from the last time we were there, new restaurants, motels and downtown businesses. I look forward to scouting around town to see what's new and to revisit those enduring establishments that line Harrison Avenue.
The first year Phil ran Leadville, my daughter Jamaica and I left Phil at the motel and took off to scout out the crew stations. Phil and I don't navigate in the same way, so I wanted to find them on my own so I would know exactly where I was going. As we were driving down the highway to the turnoff to Winfield I had a sense of deja-vu, had I been here before? When we finally drove into the tiny abandoned Winfield I realized that yes, many years ago on one of our vacations, we had in fact spent some time exploring Winfield.
So as we head off to the mountains once again, that corny saying "home is where the heart is" comes to mind and I hope that all of you have found that one place to run that lightens your heart and renews your spirit.
In
your service,
Stacy
An Ultrarunner is:
by Eric Sharpe
I've only run a couple of ultras - but I'd like to
acknowledge the people who I ran them with for helping me compile this list.
Thanks to them, I think I now know what an ultrarunner is.
An
Ultrarunner is:
·
courteous and supportive - to those around them, those in
front and those behind.
·
dedicated to their sport - not to their ego....or alter
ego.
·
never too far behind to stop and pick up something
someone else has dropped along the way. Be it trash, gear or their will to
finish.
·
the kind of person who goes out of their way to make sure
you're just breathing hard and not having heart failure.
·
someone who is not afraid to call themselves insane.
·
an authority on everything and nothing at all.
·
bound and determined to never run this *!@#$%^&* trail again.
·
the first one to stick next year's entry form in the mail
as soon as they get home.
·
a coach, a mentor and a friend.
·
a member of a very small, very special family.
KUS 24 Hour Run Report
By Dann Fisher
In
the movie European Vacation, Chevy
Chase (a.k.a. Clark W. Griswold) enters a London traffic roundabout. Unable to exit, he circles endlessly as day
turns into night. “There it is kids,
Big Ben and Parliament…Big Ben and Parliament, kids…Big Ben and Parliament again.” On April 29, a similar fate awaited 11 other
runners and me in the Kansas Ultrarunners’ Society (KUS) 24-hour run as we set
out to see how many times we could circle a 400-meter track before the time
expired.
I had been struggling with IT
Band Syndrome since the beginning of April.
My mileage had been nil, replaced by massage therapy, chiropractic
adjustments, and electrical stimulation.
Although I felt comfortable before the run, I wondered if I would hold
together for an hour, let alone a day. I
had to try. It meant $43.15 per mile
for the Boys and Girls Club.
We arrived in Hesston at 6:00
a.m. After setting up the tent and
unfolding the chairs and cots that would serve as the compound for my crew,
fellow Harrier Frank Dayton, and me for next 26 hours, I began organizing my
gear -- Several pairs of shoes,
numerous pairs of socks, piles of Coolmax shirts and jackets, my trademark
bandanas, blister materials, Bodyglide, electrolyte tabs, and supplements. Next I rolled in the cooler full of water,
pop, and Nestle’s Sweet Success. Food was plentiful. Contrary to rumors, most of it was not eaten
by the crew.
As 8:00 a.m. approached, we
gathered for instructions from RD Eric Steele and laced the computer chips onto
our shoes. KUS had obtained the
ChampionChip system, the first time a computer system had been used for this
type of event, eliminating the need for manual lap counting.
The sun was bright and the wind
was beginning to blow as the group lurched down the straight toward the first
turn. Scott Demaree, one of the legends
of timed events, set a quick early pace.
I started much more conservatively, running and conversing with Frank.
The early miles passed
easily. My IT Band felt fine, aided by
a strap placed a couple inches above my right knee. My early strategy was to walk one lap after each three that I
ran. Fearing that the day would be warm
and humid, I consumed as much water as I could. This unfortunately meant several trips
through the stadium to the restroom. My
best estimate is that these trips added a couple of
uncounted miles. Still, it beat the
alternative.
After five hours, I had amassed
more than 20 miles, but I was not having a great day. Usually I can eat and drink anything and everything during an
ultra, but not on this day. Everything
hit with a thud, resulting in nausea for at least a couple of laps.
The track was worn and very
hard. It felt like running on concrete
with just enough traction to cause friction.
My low back and quads were aching.
Shannon helped me to stretch my back, hamstrings, and quads, temporarily
releasing the strain. Frank headed to
the tent for a couple hours of sleep. I
trudged on, paced by for a time by Barb Allen.
By this time, the bright sunshine
had given way to clouds. Rain looked
imminent but never came. The wind,
however, would howl the rest of the day.
By 4:00 p.m., I had amassed about 35 miles, but the hamburger that had
tasted so good going down was thrashing in my stomach. I took a brief respite in the tent until the
nausea passed. I was intrigued as I
watched the string of humanity around the track. Tony Bridwell was running strong as was Bill Shirk and Richard
Golden, but Scott Demaree, the leader, was no where to be found. Word came that Scott was attempting to recoup
from dehydration. Hearing this, I
continued to swill as much water as possible.
Fred Hampel, the self-proclaimed
non-runner, paced me for the next couple of hours before leaving the compound
to fetch pizza for the crew. Despite
the fact I was doing well in Asics Kayanos, I decided to change shoes. It was soon apparent this was a mistake as
the friction in the new treads was far greater. I soon retreated to the tent, rolling Bodyglide onto my feet and
then covering the balls with duct tape – use number 1,001 – changing socks, and
returning to the Kayanos. I would stick
with them for the rest of the event.
Leslee Hampel took over pacing
duties. I had encouraged, exhorted, and
paced Leslee in her attempts to qualify for the Boston Marathon, resulting in
her feeling obligated to return the favor.
Her company was most welcome.
I struck up a conversation with
Scott Demaree, who had returned but seemed relegated to walking. Despite his absence, Scott was nearly 20
miles ahead of me. A Ph.D. student at
Texas A&M, we compared our current endeavor to that of earning a doctorate
– a war of attrition. Around this time
I noticed that the knots in my quads had worsened. The track was giving me a beating.
As the sunset around the 12th
hour, I was still on pace for 100 miles.
I began to take a walking lap after every two laps that I ran. I was delighted when the stadium lights came
on, having wondered if we would be spending the night fumbling around the track
with flashlights. The boost made me
forget about my quads, at least temporarily.
By 9:00 p.m., Shannon, Leslee,
and Barb, suffering from the onset of bronchitis, had left for the hotel for
some much need rest, leaving Fred to take care of Frank and me. My low back was aching, me feet throbbed, and
my quads were screaming. The pace had
slowed measurably.
At 10:10 p.m., after nearly 14
hours of constant motion, I was in bad shape.
Everything ached – back, hips, knees, calves, shins, and feet. Having compiled slightly more than 63 miles,
I was shot. I collapsed into a chair in
the tent and kicked my feet up onto the cooler for a few minutes of rest. Although I feared I might not be able to
recover from it, my desire for a quick nap overwhelmed me. The night air was damp and the wind was
brisk. Fred threw a blanket over me,
but I couldn’t get comfortable so he helped me move to a reclining chair. I left a wakeup call for 11:00 p.m. and fell
into a light sleep, still aware of the buzz from the track’s activity.
Eleven o’clock came quickly. I hadn’t bothered to change out of
sweat-covered clothes before collapsing.
I awoke chilled to the bone.
Shivering, I began rummaging for warm clothes to pull on. Frank was dead to the world on his cot. I considered rolling him to steal his
sleeping bag.
Fred got me up and walking, but I was freezing, the
shivering causing my aching quads to plead for mercy. After one slow, tortured lap, I pulled on another jacket over the
sweats I was already wearing. KUS
volunteer Randy Albrecht graciously warmed some chicken noodle soup for
me. I wasn’t sure whether to drink it
or to try to climb inside the steaming cup.
This was the low point. Nine hours
to go, 37 miles from my goal, walking an agonizingly slow pace, wrapped up like
a refugee, the event seemed to be slipping away from me.
The walking pace slowly increased
over the next two laps, followed by a slow jog. I was determined to pull myself back together. Soon I was running smoothly again, peeling clothes
like a stripper each time I circled past the tent. With Fred’s help, I would add another nine miles over the next
two hours.
By the time Leslee returned at
1:00 a.m., I was the only person on the track still running consistently. In need of rest, Fred headed for the comfort
of the high jump pit. Alternating running two, sometimes even three laps, with
walking one lap, I once again settled into a groove, feeling the proverbial
second wind. I was able to block out
the pain, with help of a couple of Advil and six grams of MSM, and focus on
pacing. The running laps were hitting
between 2:00 and 2:15. The walking laps
consistently clocked in at 4:00. Having
long since tired of the nausea, I had not eaten anything since the soup and
drank only water. Around me a death
march was under way. Head’s would bob
and strides would falter as warriors dead on their feet trudged onward. Scott Demaree listed as he walked, appearing
the worst for wear. Bodies were strewn
along the side of track, huddled under blankets and slumped inside tents, as
much needed rest was sought.
Around 3:30 a.m., my computer
chip began malfunctioning.
Indiscriminately, it would fail to record my laps, requiring me to
retrace my steps to the scanning mat.
Stacy Sheridan soon agreed to manually record my laps as I tried to push
on toward the elusive 100-mile barrier.
Around this time, Scott Demaree threw in the towel at 89.97 miles. Quickly, Tony Bridwell gobbled up the laps
needed to wrest the lead from Scott. I
would later move into second, finding out much later that I had made Tony so
nervous that he had switched from only walking to running the straights and
walking the curves, inadvertently assisting him in reaching the 100-mile mark.
By 5:00 a.m. the lack of
nutrition caught up with me. With 87
miles complete, I would need a strong charge to get to 100 miles. Unfortunately, total depletion was
occurring, leaving me dizzy. Fearing
that I might faint, I headed for the tent.
I downed a Sweet Success, part
of a Pepsi, and a few cookies as quickly as I could knowing that nausea would
soon follow. It did. I sat on the cooler in the tent for about 20
minutes, feeling my goal slip away.
Running without calories created a debt that had come due, but by
avoiding the 15 to 20 minute breaks that the nausea would have inflicted, I was
able to cover just over 24 miles in less than six hours. The gamble had paid off.
The break left me badly
chilled. I pulled on a jacket and
tights, resuming a slow walk. I had
stiffened badly. With two hours to go,
I had passed Scott’s total, but Tony was too far ahead to catch. I was content to walk the rest of the time
in the company of Leslee and Barb, finishing the event with 94.95 miles.
After a quick shower, a little
breakfast during which I became so nauseous that I was several shades of green,
I managed to get a short nap in the car.
I tried to sleep when I got home, but by this time I was way too sore to
get comfortable. By 9:00 p.m., after
being awake for nearly all of the last 40 hours, I took some Nytol and finally
drifted off to sleep, beginning to unwind the effects of 382 laps.
Favorite
recollections of the event:
1.
The
courage of Ron Jansen and Jan Shirk.
Ron was running for Children’s Mercy Hospital. He developed blisters early in the run, the wind blow his canopy
down, and he seemed to struggle throughout.
He maintained a positive attitude, however, and was still circling the
track when the event ended. Jan also
fought horrible blisters and her IT Band, forcing her to walk most of the
event. She remained a ray of sunshine
on the track and willed herself to 63.38 miles.
2.
The
huffing and puffing of Bill Shirk. Put
a headlamp on Bill and you would swear a locomotive was coming around the
track. Unlike Amtrack, he couldn’t be derailed,
chugging his way to 79.04 miles.
3.
Richard
“Big Bird” Golden setting a distance PR or 88.73 miles. Because the Bird worked so hard in the last
hours of the event and because there is nobody nicer in ultrarunning, I enjoyed
seeing him have success.
4.
Seeing
Scott Demaree unravel. One of the best
at timed events, Scott had a goal of 130 miles. Ravaged by dehydration, he was “only” able to do 90 miles. Even the best have rough days, a reminder to
respect the distance. Nothing is
automatic, no matter how fit or talented.
5.
The
amazing David Dinkel. David does not
have the stereotypical runner’s build, but he may be the swiftest big man
around. I marveled at his consistency
and enjoyed his company late in the race.
6.
Frank
“Sleepy” Dayton. Frank slept the most
of anyone during the event – about 7 hours.
Yet he managed to complete 66.86 miles.
His ability to sleep for three hours and immediately resume running like
he never stopped is frightening. He ran
two marathons in the four weeks before the event and another two in the four
weeks afterwards. Good job,
Ranger! But wearing a shoe from two
different brands was a serious social faux pas.
7.
The
cowbell ringing when Tony Bridwell reached 100 miles.
8.
The
world’s greatest crew -- Shannon, Fred, Leslee, and Barb. You are the envy of the ultrarunning
community. I am grateful the event gave
Leslee a reason to come home from Denver to visit with her father who would
unexpectedly pass away a couple of weeks later.
9.
The
KUSers – Eric, Stacy, Phil, Randy, Marc and company put on first-class
events. It was a toss up as to which
was the most slappy during the night.
10.
Yelling
“beep” at Stacy Sheridan after each lap late the event. After my chip stopped functioning, Stacy
went to work on recording my laps. In
the same spirit, I manually made the beeping sound that the mat was supposed to
make as it registered our crossing.
Bless you Stacy for getting it all straight.
11.
All the wonderful family, friends,
colleagues, and strangers who pledged amounts per mile and fixed amounts that
added up to nearly $5,500. You made the
event truly successful! 
RELENTLESS FORWARD PROGRESS
WHERE KUS MEMBERS PLAN
TO RUN AND RACE
Jim & Nancy Davis
Hiking
and mountain climbing near Allen's Park CO
9/2/00 Flat
Rock Trail clean up weekend, Independence KS
9/30/00
Flat Rock 50 K, Independence, KS
Volunteer
at The Heartland 100, Cassoday, KS
9/14/00
Wichita Marathon, Wichita, KS
12/02/00
Kentucky 50 Mile, Louisville KY
Scott Demaree
11/24/00
Ultracentric 48 Hour, Dallas TX
Eric Steele
7/27/00
BADWATER!! 135 Miles, Badwater CA
Phil Sheridan
8/19/00
Leadville 100, Leadville CO
9/9/00
Wasatch 100, Kaysville, UT
9/30/00
Flatrock 50 K, Independence KS
10/14/00
Heartland 100 Spirit of the Prairie, Cassoday KS
Dave Noltensmeyer
8/19/00
Leadville 100, Leadville CO
Bill Smith
9/30/00
Flatrock 50 K, Independence KS
10/14/00
The Heartland 100 Mile, Cassoday KS (my first)
11/10/00
Grand Canyon Rim to Rim double, fun run
Duane Frichtl
Some
short stuff leading up to:
9/30/00
Flatrock 50K, Independence KS
Owen-Putnam
*
Huff *
Chicago
Marathon *
Marc Friesen
8/20/00
Pikes Peak Marathon, Colorado Springs CO
9/16/00
Horsethief Canyon Trail Run, Kanopolis State Lake, KS
10/7/00
Edmond Fitzgerald 100K, Duluth MN *
Don Mrozek
8/20/00
Pikes Peak Marathon, Colorado Springs CO
9/30/00
Flatrock 50K, Independence KS
Wes Monteith
9/30/00
Flatrock 50K, Independence KS
10/7/00
Arkansas Traveller, Perryville AR *
10/14/00
The Heartland 100, Cassoday, KS *
12/00
The" must do" Texas Trails
Leo Rutten
8/19/00
Leadville 100, Leadville CO
Grand
Canyon Rim to Rim double
* Tentative plans
Kansas Ultrarunners’ Society 24/48-Hour
Wichita,
KS 7 p.m. Fri, April 20
24-Hour
starts 8 AM April 21.
Course pending:
either ~2 mile certified Hike/Bike trail or track. Lap counting provided. $60
entry postmarked by April 13, $70 after that. Contact: Scott Demaree, 200
Calvin Moore Ave., Apt. 9B, College Station, TX, 77840, (409)862-9065, e-mail: srd2007@unix.tamu.edu, or visit K.U.S.
website by year end: www.ultrarunners.info/
The Mysterious Magnet and Athletic Performance
That eating certain foods or supplements can affect our
exercise performance is well known. It makes sense that because our bodies are
great chemical factories, the raw materials we put in them can change the
quantity and quality of things produced, all leading toward changes in our
ability to move. Although the exact way that the body accomplishes many of the
necessary processes may be open to scientific debate, at least there is no
shortage of mechanisms to explain them.
You can
imagine my skepticism when I came across some claims that magnets may posses
many benefits for almost everyone. Athletes might expect magnets to help with
pain relief and improved recovery from injury. The first question any scientist
asks is: How does it work? Then answer I got was: we don't know! My next
thought was that these people must be deluding themselves. The people who claim
to have been helped must be experiencing the placebo effect. After all, we are
surrounded and inundated with electromagnetic fields all day long coming from
all of the high-tech devices we live with. So how could some small permanent
magnets bring about these glowing reports? Using magnets for medical treatments
seemed like so much quackery. The problem was that one of the people who had
tried the magnets on her broken foot was none other than my wife, Raquel, and she
was feeling better immediately!
So I set
out to find the truth, assuming that I might find a few disconnected case study
reports on magnet benefits. Imagine my surprise when my Medline search turned
up 785 references to magnetic fields going back to 1966! A lot of that turned
out to be technical experiments dealing with the use of CAT, MRI and NMR scans
in medicine. However, I spent the next three hours reading some fascinating
abstracts of studies in which all sorts of magnetic fields had been used to attempt
to treat many different illnesses from clinical depression to multiple
sclerosis. That three hours only got me back as far as 1992!
Here is
what I found. Pulsed magnetic fields are showing promise in the treatment of
depression. Symptoms of multiple sclerosis and Parkinson's disease have
responded to different kinds of magnetic stimulation. Pain in postpolio
patients and even urinary incontinence has been treated with positive results.
Not all the studies showed that magnets improve the condition treated. For
instance, transcranial magnetic stimulation had no effect on schizophrenics.
One really couldn't expect all to be positive with such wide variations in the
strength, type and duration of magnetic therapy used.
However,
what impressed me most were the studies in animals. You see, animals are much
more resistant to the placebo effect if they are handled the same for each
treatment. Bone strength in rats, which usually drops after surgery on the bone
was maintained by magnetic stimulation. When guinea pigs had part of a bone
removed, those exposed to both pulsed and static magnetic fields for nine days
showed new bone growth, whereas those without magnetic exposure did not.
Another study on rats with induced arthritis showed magnetic fields significantly
suppressed the associated synovitis and inflammation. In guinea pigs that had
muscle damage induced by tetanic electrical stimulation, all three treatments
used (two methods of acupuncture and the application of a static magnet)
enabled the muscle's strength to be quickly recovered. Finally, one method of
causing osteoporosis in female rats is to remove their ovaries. A study using
this method revealed that exposure to a pulsed magnetic field for one hour per
day could completely eliminate bone loss over a four month period.
All of
this is fine, even remarkable, but again: How does it work? Only very nebulous
ideas show up in the literature. One mention was made that the effects on the
brain MAY be related to the pineal gland., which MAY have some ability to sense
magnetic fields. We do know the pineal gland secretes melatonin at night, which
promotes sleep, but magnetic fields? I found another vague reference to
transmembrane ion exchange. Many scientists will have nothing to do with
something if there is no reasonable mechanism proposed, even if that something
really does work. I simply point to the story of aspirin, which was used for
several decades before its mechanism was deduced.
None of
the evidence I saw was directly related to athletic performance (sorry about
the title), but ultraendurance athletes must deal with so many discomforts and
recovery issues, that it is hard to ignore magnets, now that I know they work.
With many magnetic products on the market, I would caution runners from going out
and buying just any old device they see. There is a large variation in prices,
which implies a large variation in quality and design. I don't have all the
answers yet, but now I'm intrigued enough to look a lot harder.
REFERENCES
Darendeliler, M.A. et al. Effects of static magnetic and
pulsed electromagnetic fields on bone heal-ing. International Journal of Adult
Orthodontics & Orthognathic Surgery. 12(1):43-53, 1997.
George, M.S. et al. Transcranial magnetic stimulation:
applications in neuropsychiatry. Archives of General Psychiatry. 56(4):300-311,
1999.
Kimbrell, T.A. et al. Frequency dependence of
antidepressant response to left prefrontal repetitive transcranial magnetic
stimulation (rTMS) as a function of baseline cerebral glucose metabolism. Biological Psychiatry. 46(12):1603-1613,
1999.
Klein, E. et al. Therapeutic efficacy of right prefrontal
slow repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation in major depression: a
double-blind controlled study. Archives of General Psychiatry 56:315-320, 1999.
Lin, V.W. et al. Functional magnetic stimulation: a new
modality for enhancing systemic fibrinolysis. Archives of Physical Medicine
& Rehabilitation. 80(5):545-550, 1999.
Richards, T.L. et al. Double-blind study of pulsing
magnetic field effects on multiple sclerosis. Journal of Alternative &
Complementary Medicine. 3(1):21-29, 1997.
Riva Sanseverino, E. et al. Therapeutic effects of pulsed
magnetic fields on joint diseases. Panminerva Medica. 34(4):187-196, 1992.
Sandyk, R. and Iacono R.P. Reversal of visual neglect in
Parkinson's disease by treatment with picoTesla range magnetic fields.
International Journal of Neuroscience. 73(1-2):93-107, 1993.
Szor, J.K. and Topp R. Use of magnet therapy to heal an
abdominal wound: a case study. Ostomy Wound Management. 44(5):24-29, 1998.
Takeshige, C. and Sato, M. Comparisons of pain relief
mechanisms between needling to the muscle, static magnetic field, external
qigong and needling to the acupuncture point. Acupuncture &
Electro-Therapeutics Research. 21(2):119-131, 1996.
Vallbona, C. et al. Response of pain to static magnetic
fields in postpolio patients: a double-blind pilot study. Archives of Physical
Medicine & Rehabilitation. 79(4):469-470, 1997.
Weinberger, A. et al. Treatment of experimental inflammatory
synovitis with continuous magnetic field. Israel Journal of Medical Sciences.
32(12):1197-1201, 1996.
Yamanishi, T. et al. Effect of functional continuous
magnetic stimulation for urinary incontinence. Journal of Urology.
163(2):456-459, 2000.
Yan, Q.C. et al. Effects of static magnetic field on bone
formation of rat femurs. Medical Engineering & Physics. 20(6):397-402,
1998.
Zati, A. et al. Effects of pulsed magnetic fields in the
therapy of osteoporosis induced in by overiectomy in the rat. Bollettino -
Societa Italiana Biologia Sperimentale. 69(7-8):469-475, 1993.
Kettle Moraine 100 Report
By Marc Friesen
When we (Dave Dinkel, Randy Albrecht, and I) arrived in
Eagle, the first thing we noticed was the weather. It was not the typical
cool, dry northern air that we were expecting. It was warm and
muggy. Were we in still in Kansas after driving nine hours?
Nope. We were in fact in Wisconsin, experiencing untypical late spring
weather. We surveyed the course late Thursday afternoon. Then went
to pick-up our packets at the staging area.
While doing this we noticed a curious thing. There was a packet for a
Scott Demaree. We all thought that this must be a different Scott
Demaree. Must be. We decided to open the packet. The age seemed
to be right. Still not sure, we asked Kevin Setnes, the race
director. Sure enough, this Scott was from Texas, gotta be the Scott we
know. We hung around thinking that Scott
would eventually show. We waited for a while, but no Scott. So we
decided to head off to supper, then back to the hotel. There was no hurry
that evening to turn in early, as the race has a leisurely noon start.
We got to the race start about 10:30, an hour and half to just get more
nervous. Dave was mingling with the other participants whom he knew, as
this was his fourth KM100. Randy was quite calm and relaxed; this was his
who knows how many hundred miler. I was the nervous one. I had
three failures at 100-milers, two at Leadville and one at Arkansas.
Kettle was my chance to show that I could do it! No excuses.
At 11:30 it was time for the pre-race briefing. Kevin explained all of
the standard directions as you hear before most ultras. 11:55, five
minutes to go, and still no Scott. We all wondered whether Scott thought
it began on Saturday at noon. Were could Obi-Run-More-Kanobi be?
12:00, Kevin yells go! And we are all off to begin running the first of
many laps on the KM course. KM has a multi-loop course combined with
three out and backs, two
of those on the same "spoke" heading north, and one south.
Still no Scott, must be a DNS, which was hard to believe. I started
running with Randy. Dinkel started off in the back, taking the steady approach
to the race, having only the KUS 24-hour performance and long runs of 10 miles
to rely on. I immediately had trouble with one particular toe. I decided
to change shoes at 13 miles. This was a bad sign, but maybe that would
help...or not. The pain in the toe caused me to limp for the first thirty
miles. If there had been an aid station where I could have dropped I would have
(probably not). I learned after the race that aid station director and
her aid station comrades bet that I wouldn't make it back to their station at
42
miles my limp was so bad. I could only stick with Randy for the first 23
miles. Randy took off from there. I tried to work through the
arthritic pain.
Randy passed me going the other direction on the first out-and-back. He
was looking extremely strong. Finally! At the 35-mile point the pain lifted,
along with my spirits. Just about this time, a familiar face started
coming down the trail. It was Scott! He said that he started 10
minutes late. We exchanged good luck wishes and went our separate
ways. Things were going good now, after the relief from the pain and
seeing a familiar face. I passed Dave, who was looking good, and I made
my way to the halfway point. I picked up my flashlights after making another
loop and headed out on the south out-and-back spoke. It was a bit of a
new experience running on this narrow of a trail in the dark. My previous
attempts involved night running where the trails were wide and
sure-footed. This was quite the opposite. On this section we crossed a
boggy section on a boardwalk. Randy and my paths crossed once
again. I didn't take notice, but this was the section where both of
Randy's flashlights went out. He hooked up with someone who had a spare
and continued on. Randy would not be the only one with flashlight
trouble. I was only two miles from the main aid station when both of my
flashlights went dead as well. I waited for someone else to come along
and ran on in with "Andy" to the aid station, at 75-mile point.
Losing my light dramatically took away my focus. I opted for an extended
break (about an hour), to eat and refocus on the race. This was somewhat
of an ironic point for me, as it is roughly the same mileage point where I had
dropped out of the three previous 100's and one 24 hour. During this
respite I had totally different thoughts. I became more determined and
more dedicated to finish. When I left the aid station it was nearly
light, as the sun was making its early appearance at 5:00 am. The last
twenty-five miles seemed to fly by. I met Randy, Scott, and Dave once
more. They all were doing well. There were brief periods of this
stretch of mileage when I actually became so excited that I would laugh and
yell (Ultra-induced
delirium, I suppose). I knew that I would make it. I ran most of
that last marathon distance to the finish. When I crossed the finish
line, I still couldn't believe it, and even today I still have a hard time
believing it. Wow! I made it, my first 100-mile finish. I remember
Dave saying to me several times in previous years that I should come up to
Kettle, because it
was a place where he thought I that I could run real well. Dave, you were
right.
Here is how the KUS members fared:
Randy finished in less than 20 hours (19:45:13) and a 4th place overall -not
bad for averaging only 35 miles per week for the previous two months. I
finished in 23:02:21. Scott finished in 26:08:26. And Dave stopped
at 84.5 miles, a very solid performance.
Reflections on Denali
For a minute, I stood atop Denali -- at 20,320 feet above
sea level, the highest point in North America. It was perhaps 7:30 in the
evening on 3 June 2000, and the light was intensely clear yet traced with gold.
The Alaska Range broke away to every compass point, receding into the taiga and
tundra of high Alaska. It may have been even less than a minute -- instead, am
"moment" -- an instant completely outside of time, beyond thought and
calculation, whole and pure, swept over in peace.
"We got to go, we got to go down now." Pressed Tom Bridge, senior guide with Alpine
Ascents International in Seattle, which had organized the expedition for us six
clients and our three guides. We had just arrived at the summit after fifteen
days of climbing, carrying loads, moving camp up mountain -- after sweating
heavily in the intense hear of the lower glaciers and bearing the equally
intense cold. We had just arrived -- and then we were gone.
Back down the knife-edge summit ridge -- maybe eighteen
inches wide and sixty yards long with a fall of hundreds of feet on one side
and thousands on the other. Down across the Football Field. Down past the
Archdeacon's Tower. Down. Down into thicker air. Into oxygen. Into the seeming
safety of the calming, cold light of evening.
At about 18,200 feet, at Denali Pass, our rope team of
three persons stopped to wait for the four men on the second rope. "Hurry
up and wait:" -- the old Army refrain. Yet we could not do otherwise, nor
did we want to. We needed to stay close enough to support one another in an
emergency.
By the time the two ropes met, the better part of two
hours' difference in pace had been bridged. My rope team was stiff from waiting
in the deepening cold by eager to descend the next thousand feet to our Camp
Four at 17,200 feet where warm drinks and sleeping bags would be ready for us.
Double -plastic mountaineering boots, swathed in neoprene overboots, and fitted
with crampons bit into the super-cold snow of the tenuous trail traversing the
snow and ice slopes below Denali Pass. As we later learned, the temperature
registered about 25 degrees below zero fahrenheit. My rope-partner Eric
continued to lead the descent, tracing carefully around a rocky crag, then
opening into an easy sweep toward camp. We were eager to be "home."
Just shy of camp, the three of us on our rope came to a
halt. Quietly, with faint smiles, we touched fists. "Great job,
Eric," I said, "great job leading -- and brave." "I just
did what I had to do. And I was scared," He answered. I looked back and
said: "That's what being brave is. I think -- doing what has to be done.
Doing it right. And you did it well." We walked to camp slowly and
silently, stayed by relief as much as by fatigue.
Several other climbers came out to meet us as we neared
the camp perimeter. Warm water spiked with juice. Food. The men started
unbuckling out climbing harnesses and steering us toward our tents. A Denali
National Park Ranger walked over to do a quick medical check. After sixteen
hours to the summit and back, I was standing on one foot then walking a
straight line with a crossover step (still with crampons on my mountaineering
boots) - then talking with the Ranger close enough for us to smell each others'
breath -- as if I were being tested for a DUI at 17,200 feet. But I loved him
for it. He wanted me safe -- and so did I.
The second rope team arrived, and we on the first rope
joined in greeting them. Now that we were over the sudden pleasure of our own
safety, we began to feel a warm sense of satisfaction that we had reached our
goal -- the summit with nobody hurt. Ahead of us in the next two days lay intense,
fast descent -- first from 17,200 feet to our old Camp Two at about 11,500
feet, then about another seven miles across glaciers from Camp Two back to Base
Camp at 7,200 feet.
By the morning of our eighteenth day on Denali we were
scrambling for flights to take us off the Kahiltna Glacier and back to
Talkeetna and "civilization." In the plane, flying over the Alaska
Range, my body vibrated -- not from the aircraft engine but from the
accumulated intense experience of eighteen days on the mountain. Camping behind
walls made of snow blocks. Hauling sleds loaded with gear, food, and fuel.
Carrying 60-pound packs. And climbing. On Denali. "The High One."
As we passed through the mountains, unformed thoughts
pulsed through me. How every step we take depends on everything else we've
done, on all we are, on those who've influenced us. How, in one sense, we are
radically alone, yet also fully linked to all who form our past and shape our
present options. How we are like sparks in a field of electrical potential --
transient, volatile, strong, and bright. How we are -- how we are, suddenly, in
Talkeetna.
Our expedition actually moved fast. We didn't lose a
single day to storms -- and Denali is downright notorious for unstable and
ofter fierce weather. We struck planned rest days from our schedule to take
advantage of shockingly favorable weather -- cold, clear, and relatively calm.
This put greater demands on our endurance. But we were already committed. The
process of climbing the mountain had a certain life and logic of its own. We
could accept it as it was -- or try to change it but risk putting the overall
outcome in peril.
Nor were we subject just to the weather. We were subject
to the mountain. Snow conditions. Glacial movement and crevasse formation. The weakening
of snow bridges in the intense sun low on the mountain. No one ever
"conquers" a mountain like Denali. If you're lucky, you have some
short time on the summit and then move quickly out of harm's way.
People ask mountaineers much the same questions they ask
ultradistance runners. Why do we do it? Isn't it painful? A polish climber
called mountaineering "the art of suffering." But I remember
something Tim Hansel wrote years ago: "Pain is inevitable but misery is
optional." Attitude is not everything in mountaineering or in running but
it counts for a lot. I guess I've suffered into the open air and not into
layers of technical mountaineering clothing. And good to be here in the Flint
Hills. I've had some times when I couldn't say which was real -- this life or
the one I left back in the ice and snow and rock of the Alaska Range. One life
seems almost a dream, then the other does. I've experienced this feeling only
rarely. The last time was ten years ago after a particularly rough completion
of the Leadville Trail 100. Somehow, it's like being "home again" to
feel this way. I like it.
Right now, there's a lot I don't know -- a lot I won't
try to figure out. But I know one thing for sure. For a moment, I stood atop
Denali -- completely outside time, feeling whole, swept over in peace. Moments
like that don't just "last forever." They are forever.
Don
Mrozek is a Flint Hill Harrier and a KUS member and lives in Manhattan.
KUS-cipes
(These recipes come from Warren "Flirp" Bushey, the Stone Soup Chef, thanks to Bev, Warren's wife for sending them on.)
Nevada Nutty Slaw Salad by Dan Blocker
1 Package Slivered Almonds
2 Tablespoons Sesame Seeds
Butter
1 - 16 Oz. Pkg Coleslaw Mix (or grated white & red
cabbage)
8 Green onions, chopped
2 Teaspoons salt
1 Cup vegetable oil
1 Teaspoon pepper
4 Tablespoons sugar
6 Tablespoons rice vinegar
2 Packages oriental ramen style noodles
Brown almonds and sesame seeds in butter. Mix slaw and
onions in a large bowl. Cool nuts and sesame seeds. Mix with slaw. For dressing
mix oil, salt, pepper, sugar, and vinegar. When ready to serve, break noodles
over slaw and pour on dressing as desired.
Note: Poached chicken can be added to create a luncheon salad.
Makes 6 servings.
Hugh's Favorite No Beans Chili by Mrs. Hugh Farr
Ground meat
Garlic cloves
Chili powder
Black pepper
Hot dried red peppers
Cumin
Oregano
Tallow
Salt
Hugh would have the meat department grind a very fine
piece of meat (course ground, the size of a large pea). He would put that in a
large cast-iron skillet. He would add fresh garlic, chili powder, and fresh
ground black pepper. He would crumble up these real hot dried red peppers and
add a very delicate amount of cumin, then a little oregano, and a piece of
tallow for richness. He would cover all of that with cold water and cook it on
a very low boil. From time to time he would add water. He didn't cover the
skillet and he added salt at the end. He would cook it so it was very tender.
After it was finished he would serve it with regular crackers, oyster crackers,
or breadsticks. There are no beans in this chili.