I Promise Never EVER To Do It Again

Lots of people who are training for endurance events will run 50 miles in a week. Sure, their friends think they're a little crazy... But most runners would call that a pretty good training load, and a healthy lifestyle.

I ran 50 miles on Saturday.

I wish I were kidding. I really do. But I'm not.

This past Saturday, I ran the Chicago Lakefront Ultramarathon. Runners have 50 kilometer (31 mile) or 50 mile options. But seriously, "go big or go home", right?

The 50 milers line up at 6:30am, and after swearing aloud and in unison (for the sake of tradition) that there's no place they'd rather be, they start out on the first of 4 out-and-back-loops along Chicago's scenic lakefront. 6.25 miles from the 63rd Street Beach House to McCormick Place. Then back. Then out. Then back. Then out. Then back. Then out. Then back. Sounds mind-numbing, I know. But believe me, after the first half-dozen hours, numb would be a kindness.

There's an eleven hour limit, but they're pretty kind about it. If you haven't finished in 11 hours, they stop giving you an official time, but do let you keep running, and will list you as "finished" in the results. The course record (held by a 27-year-old man from New York City who calls himself "Oz Pearlman") is a vigorous 5 hours, 25 minutes, and 26 seconds. Nobody else has ever come within 45 minutes of his time. Then again, not everyone is in a hurry. For most of us, just finishing is quite the accomplishment.

Of course, most people would be content for the run to be the entirety of their day. I, however, couldn't get the day off work, so... Instead of the 5:30pm timing cutoff, I had to finish by 4:30 so I could shower, change clothes, and call the opening performance of my show. I could have started early (BEFORE 6:30am) but then my time wouldn't be "official", and what's the fun in that?

Fun? Is this starting to sound a little crazy to you?

Fortunately I have a lot of people who love me. My girlfriend Becca and buddy Jeff got up in the middle of the night to help me get my gear together and drive me down to the starting line. There were small bumps along the way... I didn't have the right flavor of electrolyte chews (no cola... had to make due with Cran-Razz), and with the temperature hovering in the high 30's/low 40's, I couldn't decide whether to wear my thermal base layer or not. But when all was said and done, I got to the staring line with my gear, my plan, and my support team. I was as ready as I'd ever be.

I wasn't going to be running with my iPod (forget safety, forget rules, my battery just wouldn't last long enough. :) so my first priority was to find someone who was running about the same speed I was so I'd have someone to talk to. After a quarter mile or so, I found Art and Gail. We were running about the same pace, we had about the same plan, and it was everyone's first 50 miler. They'd both run 50 kilometers before, but this was a very different animal. We told stories, shared jokes, got to know one another... It was a strange but VERY effective way to make friends. I had the fancy watch, so was able to tell them when our pace was creeping up, exactly how far it was to the next aid station, and when the best time for a walk break was. We'd never met before, but they were trusting me to guide their run. Runners are pretty unique breed: You wouldn't consider drinking a different flavor of Gator-Aid than the one you trained with, but a stranger telling you to slow down or to push on until the next water stop can be just fine.

Believe it or not, the first 30 miles were actually a lot of fun. I got to see Becca and Jeff a bunch of times, watch the sun rise over Lake Michigan (the dawn's early light reflected in the building's of Chicago's majestic skyline), run 10 or so miles with my friend JeriLou (who'd run her own race in the suburbs that morning, and was running with me for fun before she went to work that afternoon herself), laughed with Gail and Art and some of Art's friends who'd come out as well... In general, just being part of something amazing, using my body to accomplish something most wouldn't even consider, and sharing it with others doing the same.

Around the six hour mark however, things started unraveling a little. I don't know if I wasn't eating enough, if I wasn't drinking enough, if I was going faster than I should have... or if it was just exercising 6 hours non-stop. But I was running low on energy, things were getting sore, and I couldn't actually remember why I was doing this.

The fun had left the building.

Art and Gail left me around mile 32 when I stopped to take care of the beginnings of a blister. My pace got slower, my walk breaks longer and more frequent... For the first time I was alone and had a profoundly disturbing absence of distractions. I had plenty of time to reflect on the fact that not many people ran this far, and maybe they were on to something.

Remember that the course was 4 laps, so in addition to the start, there were 2 other times that you ran past the finish line before you actually finished. At the 37.5 mile mark, I could have stopped. It still would have been the farthest I'd ever run. It still would have been a hell of an achievement. I could have made the pain stop. Heading out for that fourth lap was the hardest thing I've ever done. And why did I? Crazy? Stupid? Stubborn? Probably a little of each. But in the moment, all I knew was that Becca was waiting for me at the 41 mile mark. So I had to keep moving. I may have cried a little as I headed back out. It may not have been the road less traveled, but...

I had practiced a few cute things I might say. I might even have been considering quitting, walking back with her and calling it a day. But unsurprisingly, Becca seemed to know exactly what I needed, and gave it to me. Before I could get a word out, Becca said: "I love you, I know you can do this, but at the pace you're going, you won't finish until 5, and that might making getting to work tricky." All my speeches went away. Hell, most of my pain went away. I'd lost my focus, and she'd handed it back to me. I grabbed what I needed out of the gear bag she was toting for me, hugged her and (skipping the walk break I'd planned) got back to running.

The pain going away was only temporary. In fact, I discovered that at this point it actually hurt more to walk than to run. Sure, my running pace had slowed by 2-3 minutes per mile, and my form wasn't pretty, but at least I wasn't doing the Ironman Shuffle. I just had to get to the turnaround. Once I was heading back toward the finish line it would all be okay. I passed Gail then later Art who were already on their way back. They had kind words and were inconsiderate enough to look great. I'm sure they hurt too, but they could speak and smile and that wasn't really fair, was it?

Almost at the turnaround, I saw a woman running back toward the finish in tears. I remember wondering why, since she was on her way back. But the fact that she was crying and still running was somehow beautiful. But not nearly as beautiful as the turn-around. Those few strokes of orange paint on the asphalt were almost enough to bring me to tears as well. 6.25 miles to go. How bad could it be?

It hurt to run. It hurt more not to. I had less than an hour and a half before I needed to head to work. 44 miles ago, 6 miles wouldn't have been a long distance. Now I couldn't imagine covering it. But I had promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep, so...

The advantage to the multiple out-and-back nature of the course was that by now I knew each curve, every inch of the trail by heart. I didn't have to get to the finish line. I just had to get to the other side of that building. Then that water station. Then that little hill. Then that playground. These little tricks had worked before. I'd been in pain in other races. But they hadn't broken my spirit. I didn't want this anymore. I wasn't trying to conquer this race any more. I just wanted to escape it. Getting to work was more important than finishing. Lucky for me, they both required me to get to the same place. I briefly (well... repeatedly) considered mugging a cyclist for their bike but I didn't think I had the energy for it. So I had to keep running.

In a cruel twist of fate, the same fancy watch that had gotten me this far was now tormenting me. It kept track of every inch I'd traveled... including crossing the path to go to aid stations, or into bathrooms etc. Over the course of the 50 miles, that added an additional .75 miles beyond what the race required. Therefore, I was still 3/4 of a mile away from the finish line when my watch told me I'd run 50 miles. I'd set out to run 50 miles, and I'd done so. That I had to keep running was... a sick sick joke.

Finally, a friendly face. My buddy Jeff met me to run the last half mile or so. The company made all the difference. It didn't take the pain away, I just minded it less. I believed I was going to finish (which I'm not sure I had for most of the last 15 miles...) Jeff did most of the talking of course. And the pace we kept must have been awfully slow for him. But we did it. He got me there. I came around the corner, saw Becca, saw the finish... Now complete strangers were cheering for me. I managed to, well, not quite sprint, but at least dash across the line.

Ten hours and nineteen seconds. I could have been bitter about those nineteen seconds. I ABSOLUTELY was bitter about that extra .75 miles. And I'm pretty sure I could have come up with better things to do with ten hours. But I was finished. And I wasn't going to have to run again for a very very long time.

Which isn't to say I wasn't in a hurry.

None of the post-race food looked appetizing, and the race clock may have stopped, but the real one hadn't. So I got in Jeff's car, and he took me to work. Becca tried to feed me, but I couldn't make food go in (something about a body in distress pulling all the blood away from the digestive system?) I wound up stretching on the floor of the restaurant instead, then to the theater to shower. I probably couldn't have gotten my clothes off without Becca, but a little limping aside, the rest of the night went swimmingly. The show opened, everyone was pleased, and I got to go home and stop moving. Eventually, I was even able to eat something.

I ran 50 miles in 10 hours. It was a terrible idea. But on the bright side... I never EVER have to do it again.

How did you spend your weekend?

Update: Some photos

All dressed up. And NO idea what I'm about to go through.


Running by the skyline and feelin' groovy


At 35 miles. Do Not Like.


Jeff running me in the last half mile.


Crossing the finish line.