If you run ultras but you haven't volunteered at one, what are you waiting for?
Maybe its that you can't see yourself standing there, on the side of the trail, all day long resisting the urge to run after that last runner whose water bottle you filled. Maybe you're too busy, you only have the time for races when you're racing them. Maybe you don't even like the volunteers who show up, who stand by the side of the trail, all day long, feeding you boiled potatoes and refilling water bottles, offering chairs when needed and words of encouragement when you're prematurely thinking of throwing in the towel. I mean really, who needs those obnoxious people and their bizarre buffet tables of bananas and pb&js, boiled potatoes next to bowls of salt...igloos filled with cold water, deflated coke, and electrolyte drink. Why won't they just let me run miles and miles through the woods without their help?!! Oh yeah, because when I signed up for a race I knew they'd be there, and I knew that, if I hit a low point, the next aid station just might be what got me to the finish line.
So, I ask my question again: If you run ultras, but you haven't volunteered at one, what are you waiting for?
This past weekend I had the pleasure of volunteering at the Zane Grey 50miler. I was helping out at the last aid station at mile 44, and I also had the privileged to be the course sweeper. (For those who don't know what that means, no I did not take a broom to the course, this means I ran the last 6+miles into the finish behind the last runners who made the 18:30 cut off from the mile 44 aid station.)
Spending all day, on the side of the trail, resisting the urge to take off running
First and foremost, let me say, it was gorgeous. Mile 44 is right before the Christopher Creek water crossing and near the See Canyon trailhead in the Tonto National Forest. I convinced my friend Dawn to come up to the mountains with me and spend a day doing more or less nothing...other than picking me up from the 260 trailhead once the race was finished. She kindly obliged and spent much of the day around the creek, and catching a glimpse of this weird ultrarunning thing I do, and the other crazy fantastic people who do it. Frank Cuda, the host of the Juniperwood Ranch Runs, was the Aid Station captain and a very nice guy. The first runner came through at a scorching pace, making it to our spot around 12:10p.m. Now the day had begun. The runner was Geoffrey Roes of Colorado, and he went on to an impressive first place finish of 8:13.35. Since our aid station was crew accessible, many runners had people there supporting them, which also made for a fairly large cheering section for all of the runners. There were times that the crowds made it a bit difficult for runners to see where exactly they were supposed to continue down the trail, but no one lost their way completely. If anything, they may have passed through with just a little more fanfare than expected.
It was a pretty hot day, even up in the mountains, and many runners suffered as a result. Dehydration was a definite concern, but we faithfully filled water bottles, and handed out ice and encouraged runners on their way.
I knew that some of my TTR pals would be there, and even saw Renee and Dallas on the drive up to the Rim country on Friday, so as the day went on I looked forward to seeing Renee. Sure enough, she rolled into the trailhead in the afternoon, having been the crew support for Dallas back at mile 33. She said he was having a good race, that Mike was hanging on, and Sarah was looking strong as usual. When we were pretty sure Sarah should be close to coming into mile 44, I asked Renee if she remembered what Sarah was wearing. 'Oh you know, her big floppy hat and some orange shorts.' One of the other great aspects of the mile 44 aid station was that you could see runners up on the ridge before they zig-zagged their way down the trail to our set-up. Sure enough, before long, there was a floppy hat and some orange shorts. 'GO SARAH!!!' Renee, Christy (Mike's wife, sorry if I'm spelling your name wrong!) and I started cheering for Sarah. When she made it down I offered to refill water bottles and get anything from the food table if she wanted it. She thanked us all for being out there and joked that if she was so recognizable from a distance she must really look ridiculous. Not ridiculous Sarah, just awesome! Once again she turned in an impressive performance and finished 3rd overall female for the race, in 11:42.47. (If you'll recall, I first met/wrote about Sarah at my Pemberton race, and I said she looked fast...I was right.)
Mike made his way into the aid station a bit after Sarah, he shook his head and said he was done. This race is burly. I can tell you that much. Mike's the other 'fast looking' guy (who was also fast!) that I met at Pemberton, but between the heat, the terrain and the distance, it was just too much for one day. Still, a super impressive performance, this was the furthest Mike had ever ran, so a huge congrats to Mike for testing himself on a gnarly stretch of trail.
Okay, something happened here and the computer deleted all I had written about Dallas. I'm not sure why. I will simply say that he came running down the trail all smiles, and he left the aid station smiling. He had a great race and a strong finish of 13:11.50. Dallas, I'm sorry man. I wrote more about how awesome you are, but it was eaten by technology.
And now, we wait.
The moderate disadvantage to having fast friends is that, when you're crewing an aid station and waiting for the last runner to come through the aid station, you might not know that many folks. I was starting to get antsy. I'd been at the same spot since 10:30a.m. and I knew I wouldn't be leaving it until sometime after 6:30. Runners came through in fits and bursts. Water bottles were filled, chairs were provided to tired bodies deciding whether or not they could go on. As 18:30 grew closer and closer, family and friends waiting for runners grew anxious and worried, wondering if their runner would make the cut-off. And why are their cut-offs, you might wonder? Ultimately, it comes down to safety. Although there are days when you're running real close to them and you might find them arbitrary and cruel, they do serve a real purpose.
18:15, how many more will make the cut-off?
Somewhere between 1800 and 1815 a familiar bright pair of shorts came down the trail and I was excited to see Karl Groll, a runner from Tucson whom I'd met at the Old Pueblo. We finished the OP about 10 minutes apart from one another, and I was glad to see that he was still running strong. We chatted a bit, he told me of how he was nearly convinced to drop the race before mile 33, but how another runner had convinced him not to drop, and he was glad he'd kept on going. I was glad to not see him on the trail later as I swept it, so I knew he had finished. He kept putting one foot in front of the other and finished in 15:24.00. Nice job!
And the cut-off grew closer and closer... the last runner through the cut-off, Nancy Farries, looked worried about how close she had cut it, but ready to go on. She had friends there to crew for her and they looked worried about Nancy not having time to refill her water bottles, having just come in at the cut-off and the Amateur Radio Relay guys looking tough and enforcing the cut-off. I grabbed her water bottle, asked her if there was anything else she needed and went to get it from the aid table. Her friends looked at me, a bit worried, I think afraid that I was breaking rules. I broke it down for them this way: 'Look, I'm the sweep, the last thing I want your friend to do is go out on this trail unprepared, get herself in a bad way, and then have a dangerous situation on my hands. We have time to refill her bottles, she's past the cut-off, I'll vouch for that, and I want her to finish strong and safe.'
They looked relieved, and sent their friend on her way. It wasn't until she was out of site that I asked her friends what her name was, in case I ended up on the trail with her, I wanted to know her name. They thanked me again, told me her name was Nancy, and I told them we'd see them at the finish.
FINALLY!!! I get to run! (well, sort of...)
I didn't leave right at 1830 because, secretly, I did want to get to run a bit. I knew the first 2 miles out of the aid station were tough and climbing, so I wasn't expecting to fly through it, but I needed to get my blood moving. I double checked that I had everything; headlamp, first aid kit, water for myself, extra water, a jacket, my phone...all there. Time to go.
I headed down to the creek and crossed it with no trouble, didn't even get my feet wet. I started up the climb and could see there were two runners in front of me, one of them was Nancy, the other I had yet to meet. I hung back behind them while there was still a fair amount of daylight. I didn't want them to feel pressured by my presence, I wanted them to have their own race. As daylight continued to fade I stopped snapping pictures with my phone and made my way closer to the runners. In spite of the nearly full moon, headlamps were still necessarily turned on, and I didn't want to have either of them go off the trail on my watch. They were both going to make it safely to the finish, that was my job, and I wouldn't let them (or the Race Directors) down.
Some pictures I snapped before it was too dark: (Again, sorry for the quality, still relying on cell-phones, one of these days I'll get that fancy camera.)
Everyone's got a story
As I said, I had been hanging back for a bit, mostly just keeping an eye on the runners and making sure they were staying on the trail. I closed the gap significantly as it got darker and we ended up in a more densely forested section. At one point my presence was obviously recognized as Mark, the runner in front of me, told me 'Just let me know if you want to pass, I'm afraid this is my fasted speed in the dark.'
'Well, I appreciate the offer, and you're moving just fine. As it is, I'm the sweep for the course, so you can take a nap in the middle of the trail right now and I still can't pass you. I'm just here to make sure you get there safely.' He chuckled at my offer of a nap and kept moving along. Its a hard thing to tell in any race if the people around you are off in their own world in a good way, or if they are hoping to have conversation. Sometimes conversation serves as the perfect distraction in an ultra, it makes the time pass more quickly and the miles seem shorter, other times it can do just the opposite. So, I followed Mark's lead and jumped into conversation here and there. The standard stuff, where are you from, what do you do, is this your first time out here, etc.
As the miles continued to pass under our feet and we continued to talk about races we'd done or aspired to do, I got a little more of Mark's story. You see, just three years ago Mark found himself in a place he didn't want to be: trapped inside the body of a 300+ pound man. Knowing he needed to do something drastic to turn his life around, he had bariatric surgery and vowed to make a real change. Not long after his recovery began, a friend told him he should participate in Pat's run, a 4.2 mile run created by Pat Tillman's family to honor their fallen son. After that, as Mark said it, he was hooked. He found more races to run, longer distances to tackle. To date he has run three 100+mile races, and a total of 167 races since his surgery. Truly, Mark is a champion. I was so impressed with his story, I knew I needed to share it here.
Ultra running, more than anything for me, is about testing your own personal mettle, pushing those limits, seeing what you can handle mentally. I write this in the midst of an insanely busy week of work, with a schedule that shows little hope of chilling out until I head to California in a month for my first 100K. And I know as I run those trails that I will meet more champions, and hear more incredible stories, and create more of my own. This is why I keep running, this is why the distances keep getting longer and this is why I volunteer whenever I can, because someone will do the same for me, the least I can do is return the favor.
HUGE Congrats to all the runners who challenged themselves this weekend with the Zane Grey Highline Trail 50 miler. Results can be seen here.
Maybe its that you can't see yourself standing there, on the side of the trail, all day long resisting the urge to run after that last runner whose water bottle you filled. Maybe you're too busy, you only have the time for races when you're racing them. Maybe you don't even like the volunteers who show up, who stand by the side of the trail, all day long, feeding you boiled potatoes and refilling water bottles, offering chairs when needed and words of encouragement when you're prematurely thinking of throwing in the towel. I mean really, who needs those obnoxious people and their bizarre buffet tables of bananas and pb&js, boiled potatoes next to bowls of salt...igloos filled with cold water, deflated coke, and electrolyte drink. Why won't they just let me run miles and miles through the woods without their help?!! Oh yeah, because when I signed up for a race I knew they'd be there, and I knew that, if I hit a low point, the next aid station just might be what got me to the finish line.
So, I ask my question again: If you run ultras, but you haven't volunteered at one, what are you waiting for?
This past weekend I had the pleasure of volunteering at the Zane Grey 50miler. I was helping out at the last aid station at mile 44, and I also had the privileged to be the course sweeper. (For those who don't know what that means, no I did not take a broom to the course, this means I ran the last 6+miles into the finish behind the last runners who made the 18:30 cut off from the mile 44 aid station.)
Spending all day, on the side of the trail, resisting the urge to take off running
First and foremost, let me say, it was gorgeous. Mile 44 is right before the Christopher Creek water crossing and near the See Canyon trailhead in the Tonto National Forest. I convinced my friend Dawn to come up to the mountains with me and spend a day doing more or less nothing...other than picking me up from the 260 trailhead once the race was finished. She kindly obliged and spent much of the day around the creek, and catching a glimpse of this weird ultrarunning thing I do, and the other crazy fantastic people who do it. Frank Cuda, the host of the Juniperwood Ranch Runs, was the Aid Station captain and a very nice guy. The first runner came through at a scorching pace, making it to our spot around 12:10p.m. Now the day had begun. The runner was Geoffrey Roes of Colorado, and he went on to an impressive first place finish of 8:13.35. Since our aid station was crew accessible, many runners had people there supporting them, which also made for a fairly large cheering section for all of the runners. There were times that the crowds made it a bit difficult for runners to see where exactly they were supposed to continue down the trail, but no one lost their way completely. If anything, they may have passed through with just a little more fanfare than expected.
It was a pretty hot day, even up in the mountains, and many runners suffered as a result. Dehydration was a definite concern, but we faithfully filled water bottles, and handed out ice and encouraged runners on their way.
I knew that some of my TTR pals would be there, and even saw Renee and Dallas on the drive up to the Rim country on Friday, so as the day went on I looked forward to seeing Renee. Sure enough, she rolled into the trailhead in the afternoon, having been the crew support for Dallas back at mile 33. She said he was having a good race, that Mike was hanging on, and Sarah was looking strong as usual. When we were pretty sure Sarah should be close to coming into mile 44, I asked Renee if she remembered what Sarah was wearing. 'Oh you know, her big floppy hat and some orange shorts.' One of the other great aspects of the mile 44 aid station was that you could see runners up on the ridge before they zig-zagged their way down the trail to our set-up. Sure enough, before long, there was a floppy hat and some orange shorts. 'GO SARAH!!!' Renee, Christy (Mike's wife, sorry if I'm spelling your name wrong!) and I started cheering for Sarah. When she made it down I offered to refill water bottles and get anything from the food table if she wanted it. She thanked us all for being out there and joked that if she was so recognizable from a distance she must really look ridiculous. Not ridiculous Sarah, just awesome! Once again she turned in an impressive performance and finished 3rd overall female for the race, in 11:42.47. (If you'll recall, I first met/wrote about Sarah at my Pemberton race, and I said she looked fast...I was right.)
Mike made his way into the aid station a bit after Sarah, he shook his head and said he was done. This race is burly. I can tell you that much. Mike's the other 'fast looking' guy (who was also fast!) that I met at Pemberton, but between the heat, the terrain and the distance, it was just too much for one day. Still, a super impressive performance, this was the furthest Mike had ever ran, so a huge congrats to Mike for testing himself on a gnarly stretch of trail.
Okay, something happened here and the computer deleted all I had written about Dallas. I'm not sure why. I will simply say that he came running down the trail all smiles, and he left the aid station smiling. He had a great race and a strong finish of 13:11.50. Dallas, I'm sorry man. I wrote more about how awesome you are, but it was eaten by technology.
And now, we wait.
The moderate disadvantage to having fast friends is that, when you're crewing an aid station and waiting for the last runner to come through the aid station, you might not know that many folks. I was starting to get antsy. I'd been at the same spot since 10:30a.m. and I knew I wouldn't be leaving it until sometime after 6:30. Runners came through in fits and bursts. Water bottles were filled, chairs were provided to tired bodies deciding whether or not they could go on. As 18:30 grew closer and closer, family and friends waiting for runners grew anxious and worried, wondering if their runner would make the cut-off. And why are their cut-offs, you might wonder? Ultimately, it comes down to safety. Although there are days when you're running real close to them and you might find them arbitrary and cruel, they do serve a real purpose.
18:15, how many more will make the cut-off?
Somewhere between 1800 and 1815 a familiar bright pair of shorts came down the trail and I was excited to see Karl Groll, a runner from Tucson whom I'd met at the Old Pueblo. We finished the OP about 10 minutes apart from one another, and I was glad to see that he was still running strong. We chatted a bit, he told me of how he was nearly convinced to drop the race before mile 33, but how another runner had convinced him not to drop, and he was glad he'd kept on going. I was glad to not see him on the trail later as I swept it, so I knew he had finished. He kept putting one foot in front of the other and finished in 15:24.00. Nice job!
And the cut-off grew closer and closer... the last runner through the cut-off, Nancy Farries, looked worried about how close she had cut it, but ready to go on. She had friends there to crew for her and they looked worried about Nancy not having time to refill her water bottles, having just come in at the cut-off and the Amateur Radio Relay guys looking tough and enforcing the cut-off. I grabbed her water bottle, asked her if there was anything else she needed and went to get it from the aid table. Her friends looked at me, a bit worried, I think afraid that I was breaking rules. I broke it down for them this way: 'Look, I'm the sweep, the last thing I want your friend to do is go out on this trail unprepared, get herself in a bad way, and then have a dangerous situation on my hands. We have time to refill her bottles, she's past the cut-off, I'll vouch for that, and I want her to finish strong and safe.'
They looked relieved, and sent their friend on her way. It wasn't until she was out of site that I asked her friends what her name was, in case I ended up on the trail with her, I wanted to know her name. They thanked me again, told me her name was Nancy, and I told them we'd see them at the finish.
FINALLY!!! I get to run! (well, sort of...)
I didn't leave right at 1830 because, secretly, I did want to get to run a bit. I knew the first 2 miles out of the aid station were tough and climbing, so I wasn't expecting to fly through it, but I needed to get my blood moving. I double checked that I had everything; headlamp, first aid kit, water for myself, extra water, a jacket, my phone...all there. Time to go.
I headed down to the creek and crossed it with no trouble, didn't even get my feet wet. I started up the climb and could see there were two runners in front of me, one of them was Nancy, the other I had yet to meet. I hung back behind them while there was still a fair amount of daylight. I didn't want them to feel pressured by my presence, I wanted them to have their own race. As daylight continued to fade I stopped snapping pictures with my phone and made my way closer to the runners. In spite of the nearly full moon, headlamps were still necessarily turned on, and I didn't want to have either of them go off the trail on my watch. They were both going to make it safely to the finish, that was my job, and I wouldn't let them (or the Race Directors) down.
Some pictures I snapped before it was too dark: (Again, sorry for the quality, still relying on cell-phones, one of these days I'll get that fancy camera.)
 |
| Looking back along the trail towards the rim |
 |
| The sun starting to set |
 |
| Yellow flags mean you're on the right trail! |
 |
| Still working with sunlight, stopping to strike a pose. |
 |
| Looking back up the trail again, the moon starting to peek through the trees. |
 | |
| The moon rising. |
 | ||||
| Can you find the runner in the dark? It's Mark! |
As I said, I had been hanging back for a bit, mostly just keeping an eye on the runners and making sure they were staying on the trail. I closed the gap significantly as it got darker and we ended up in a more densely forested section. At one point my presence was obviously recognized as Mark, the runner in front of me, told me 'Just let me know if you want to pass, I'm afraid this is my fasted speed in the dark.'
'Well, I appreciate the offer, and you're moving just fine. As it is, I'm the sweep for the course, so you can take a nap in the middle of the trail right now and I still can't pass you. I'm just here to make sure you get there safely.' He chuckled at my offer of a nap and kept moving along. Its a hard thing to tell in any race if the people around you are off in their own world in a good way, or if they are hoping to have conversation. Sometimes conversation serves as the perfect distraction in an ultra, it makes the time pass more quickly and the miles seem shorter, other times it can do just the opposite. So, I followed Mark's lead and jumped into conversation here and there. The standard stuff, where are you from, what do you do, is this your first time out here, etc.
As the miles continued to pass under our feet and we continued to talk about races we'd done or aspired to do, I got a little more of Mark's story. You see, just three years ago Mark found himself in a place he didn't want to be: trapped inside the body of a 300+ pound man. Knowing he needed to do something drastic to turn his life around, he had bariatric surgery and vowed to make a real change. Not long after his recovery began, a friend told him he should participate in Pat's run, a 4.2 mile run created by Pat Tillman's family to honor their fallen son. After that, as Mark said it, he was hooked. He found more races to run, longer distances to tackle. To date he has run three 100+mile races, and a total of 167 races since his surgery. Truly, Mark is a champion. I was so impressed with his story, I knew I needed to share it here.
Ultra running, more than anything for me, is about testing your own personal mettle, pushing those limits, seeing what you can handle mentally. I write this in the midst of an insanely busy week of work, with a schedule that shows little hope of chilling out until I head to California in a month for my first 100K. And I know as I run those trails that I will meet more champions, and hear more incredible stories, and create more of my own. This is why I keep running, this is why the distances keep getting longer and this is why I volunteer whenever I can, because someone will do the same for me, the least I can do is return the favor.
HUGE Congrats to all the runners who challenged themselves this weekend with the Zane Grey Highline Trail 50 miler. Results can be seen here.
Thanks for taken the time to write this.I will hopefully sign up for this next year, after Old Pueblo.I'm quessing you will to.
ReplyDeleteAwesome post Scout! Not only a great reminder of why we do this crazy ultra running thing, but also why we need to volunteer as well!
ReplyDeleteThank you for your post, being such a great volunteer and sweeper. Our race wouldn't be what it is without all the great volunteers like yourself. Thank you again! ...Joe, RD.
ReplyDeleteScout- thank you so much for volunteering! Your words & actions at the aid station did ease my mind (and my crew's!). We are all fairly new to this & appreciate you & all the other volunteers for your time, patience & encouragement. It was a great day & your actions helped a lot. You've also helped me consider volunteering at an event. Good luck in your 100K! Nancy
ReplyDeleteHi! Just found your blog! I am thinking of joining TTR soon. Glad to see another Tucson runner blogging! :) I'll definitely be following.
ReplyDelete