JFK 50 Mile Run

The Joy is in the Journey.

It's been said in many ways about many different pursuits. And of course it applies to running... in spades. And it also applies to travel associated with running.

Brandon, Mike, Steve and I left for Hagerstown and had a pretty nice, smooth trip. Except for the snowstorm through a good part of PA. It was pretty bad when we stopped at the Flight 93 Memorial (not much there - an open field with a flag at the exact spot, some personal mementos posted on a board, and a tiny building with one volunteer to tell us all about it). And then it got worse at the higher elevations. This didn't seem to bode well for the next day's running of the JFK 50-Mile.

When we arrived at Hagerstown, things were much better - no snow and not quite so bitter cold. We checked in and drove to a couple parts of the course.

Now it was getting exciting. And of course I was getting nervous. Scared to death is probably a better way to put it. It's been 5 years since I'd run this far. And I had hardly trained for it. Trained for marathons, yes, but trained for ultras, no. Not at all.

JFK is as much a mecca for ultra runners as Boston is for marathoners. There were about 1,500 starters, and we all crammed into little Boonsboro High School before the start. Northeast Ohio was very well represented, and we bumped into several of the other Buckeyes. Even the long walk down from the high school to the start in the small town evoked thoughts of Boston.

The Joy is in the Journey. As soon as we started, the similarities to Boston ended. The first two plus miles are up, up, up. So much so that many of the smarter runners took to walking the steeper parts. Since the narrow Appalachian Trail was at the end of this road section, it was important for us to sort ourselves out before we started on it.

I had a good position going onto the AT, but this turned out to be a bad thing. I'm not a good trail runner, and that's being generous. The good, and even average, trail runners passed me by the hundreds, and this was tough for both them and me on this narrow, rocky trail. Did I mention that it's rocky? There are more rocks on this small section of trail than in the entire states of Ohio and Indiana combined. You can check my facts at www.howmanyfrigginrocksareonthattrail.com.

The AT was also steep. Extremely so - especially early on. The first three miles continued the climb that began on the roads. We hit a summit at that point, and the rest was a bit better. But I was doing a lot of walking. Not only on the steep sections, but also where the rocks, which were often covered by a deep layer of fallen leaves, were treacherous. Hundreds of runners continued to pass me. I eventually found some runnable parts and got into a bit of a slow rhythm. I ran some parts with Brandon, and others with Dan and Rita.

After about 14 miles on the AT, there was a steep descent leading down to the towpath. What a relief! The AT had been really beautiful. I'd like to return and hike some of these areas some day. But run? You gotta be kidding.

The towpath began at mile 16, and I had run, if you want to call it that, that first section in 3:08 or so. We would be on the towpath for just over 26 miles, and it occurred to me that I ought to be able to do those in about the same time as the previous 16. That, of course, might be conceivable if A) I'd been in good shape and B) I hadn't just completely trashed my legs on the AT. So yes, I had thoughts of at least running well in this section, but even that was in doubt; how much damage had I done to myself? If I continued at the pace I'd been going, I'd be in danger of not finishing at all.

It turned out that I *was* able to run again. And fairly well, too. My GPS told me I was doing my early towpath miles at 8 to 8:30 minute per mile pace, with a couple even faster than 8. I don't know how I was doing it, but I was doing it. And I was passing hundreds of those runners that had passed me. I ran a bit more with Dan and Rita, and some with Terry Hawk.

This towpath is not unlike the one I'm used to, except that it's a little softer, and many sections were covered with fallen leaves. Some said it was boring, but I didn't think so. There is the Potomac on the one side, the rocks, hills and cliffs on the other, and nice fall foliage all along.

I hit mile 25 in about 4:25, and I was still passing gobs of runners. It began to dawn on me that a PR was possible. I wasn't entirely sure, but I thought I'd done my other 50 in 8:30 or so. I'd run the distance a couple of other times as well, as part of the Mohican 100 and the Olander 24-hour run, but those were much slower still. The Chicago 50-miler had been five years ago, during an excellent year of running, and, being along the lakeshore, it was about as easy as a 50-mile run can be. JFK is coming at the end of a mediocre, at best, year of running, and the course was extremely tough. To beat 8:30, I'd need to do the second 25 miles in close to 4 hours for a big-time negative split. But I was running well, and my confidence was up.

Guess what happened next. Yes, I started to slow down a bit. I guess I was starting to tucker out. Now I was doing 8:30 to 9 minute miles. Some were slower than 9 minutes. I was also losing a lot of time at the aid stations. As with most ultras, they were well stocked with soup, GU, chips, pretzels, powerbars, coke, gatorade, pb&j sandwiches, etc. I would often stuff a bunch of pretzels into my mouth and then realize that I had absolutely no saliva with which to process them. So I'd take a big swig of water to mush them up. I'd usually take a GU too, and sometimes soup or an electrolyte tablet. So the miles where there was an aid station would take me 10 to 12 minutes instead of the usual 9 or so. Although slower now, I was still passing people. Just not so many. A few were keeping pace with me. And although slower now, I wasn't crashing completely; I was still holding my own.

According to my GPS, I finished the towpath 7 hours, 8 minutes after the start. And 4 hours and 1 minute since I began the 26-mile section. Not bad at all. The joy is in the journey. Yes, I really was enjoying myself.

The last 8 miles would be on asphalt roads. Immediately off the towpath I was met with an extremely steep hill. It felt strange to have to walk again, but I suppose I needed the break. After 5 plus minutes of this I could run again and eventually came to a sign that said 8 miles to go. Wait a minute. I thought it was 8 miles from the towpath, and my GPS now said 42.4 miles. Looks like I'd be getting a bit of extra mileage for my money today. A bonus! I was also met by some guy standing in the street in front of his house, yelling very bad words at passing runners and traffic. This was followed later on by a few locals holding signs that said things like, "JFK Runners Go Home - You're not welcome here on our roads". Strange.

Now I'd have to hoof it to get that sub-8:30. I'd have to average something like 9:30 or 9:40 per mile. And 9:20 to 9:30 pace was about what I was doing. Those early road miles were very hilly, so it was tough. Not to mention that all those previous miles had taken their toll. Could I do it?

In a word, yes. I kept that pace going all the way in, doing my last mile in a blistering 9:09. I finished in 8:28. It's been a long time since I've been so ecstatic with one of my runs, but this was ultra running as good as it gets.

I showered, ate, met up with my friends and other Ohioans, and then bussed back to the other school. A bunch of us went out to dinner, and of course everyone had a joy of the journey story to tell.

PS: I just peeked at my Chicago Lakeshore 50 results from 2002. 8:26. So JFK wasn't a PR. Or was it? JFK is OFFICIALLY 50.2 miles. So I hit 50 in 8:26 for sure. It's a tie. But JFK is still the better of the two - it's my best ultra of all time.