by Ed Ayres
Praise for The Longest Race
“Revealing, savvy, and fast-paced, Ayres’s eloquent book on marathon running is a master class on the priceless life lessons of enduring and conquering obstacles to victory.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This book reminds us that our strength and vitality can never be separated from the health of the earth we run on, and whose air we breathe.”
—Bill Rodgers, four-time New York City Marathon winner and four-time Boston Marathon winner
“In this compelling read, visionary Ed Ayres takes us on a run that may save our nanosecond lives . . . and our planet.”
—Kathrine Switzer, first woman to officially run the Boston Marathon, winner of the 1974 New York City Marathon, and author of Marathon Woman
“Ayres is a legend who shares his many provocative insights and lessons in an informative yet enjoyable way. A true champion, Ed uses his gift to help us all be the best that we can be.”
—Dean Karnazes, athlete and New York Times–bestselling author of Ultramarathon Man
“Evokes the feeling of being on a long, rambling run with a very good friend. A gifted storyteller, [Ayres] seamlessly moves between discussing running to exploring larger life issues . . . that readers will ruminate on long after the last page is turned.”
—Booklist
“Required reading for any aspiring ultrarunner. An inspirational story by someone who knows more about life on the run, and what it means to us, than many of us could dream of.”
—Robin Harvie, author of The Lure of Long Distances: Why We Run
“An ultramarathon is made up of a million moments, and you’re different at the end than you were at the start—it’s the perfect metaphor, as Ed Ayres makes clear, for the race we’ve got to run now, with focus and grit, if we’re going to deal with the deepest trouble we’ve ever stumbled into as a planet.”
—Bill McKibben, Schumann Distinguished Scholar, Middlebury College
“The Longest Race is a fascinating, compelling, and far-reaching read.”
—Amby Burfoot, Runner’s World editor-at-large and winner of the 1968 Boston Marathon
“With the head of a scientist, the heart of an endurance athlete, and the soul of an ultra-distance runner, [Ed] teaches us good stewardship not only for our bodies but also for this planet. . . . We can all learn from his words.”
—Naomi Benaron, author of Running the Rift
“The most clearly articulated account I’ve ever read as to the goings-on inside the mind of a runner.”
—Brendan Brazier, bestselling author of Thrive and formulator of Vega
“I have been reading Ed Ayres’s insightful thoughts on running and life since I started serious training in the 1970s. We can all benefit greatly from Ed’s wisdom.”
—Joe Friel, elite endurance-athlete coach and author of The Triathlete’s Training Bible
“To read this book is to run alongside a seasoned athlete, a deep thinker, and a great storyteller. Ayres is the best kind of running companion, generously doling out hilarious stories and hard-won insights on performance conditioning and the human condition. His lifetime of ultra-running and environmental writing drives his exploration of what keeps us running long distances—and what it might take to keep the planet from being run into the ground.”
—Curtis Runyan, editor, Nature Conservancy magazine
“The Longest Race tells an extraordinary story of athletic spirit fueled by, yet transcending, competition. Deep in our souls, it’s a thing we can find only through the hard work of caring and striving, not only for ourselves but for our fellow competitors, for life itself, and indeed for the fate of the earth. We return to this spirit or we perish.”
—David Meggyesy, former NFL linebacker, author of Out of Their League, and former Western Director of the NFL Players Association
“An extraordinary journey of the human body, mind, and soul running together. This is a breathtaking, feet-on-the-ground story.”
—Marianne Williamson, author of A Woman’s Worth and Healing the Soul of America
“One of the nation’s leading environmental thinkers, and a nationally-ranked runner over half a century, Ed Ayres embodies the classic ideal mens sana in corpore sano. Ayres shows how the discipline of endurance running can lead us as individuals and as a nation to environmental sustainability. Ayres confirms what a few of us have long suspected: In our greatest individual challenges, trail running proves itself just like life, only more so.”
—Tony Rossmann, environmental advocate, UC Berkeley law professor, and past president of the Western States Endurance Run
“Ed Ayres has a talent for drawing the reader into his adventure. Enjoy the journey; it is a fun one.”
—Michael Wardian, 2011 World Ultrarunner of the Year
“As [Ed] carries us with him along this course, he deftly uses the past to inform the present. His overarching question: What does it take for an individual as well as a civilization to go the distance without collapsing?”
—Lester R. Brown, president, Earth Policy Institute
“Ed deftly weaves together a lifetime’s experiences and observations: a memoir of a pioneering ultramarathoner and professional writer, a primer of advice on going long distances, an anthropological study of humans as runners, and a set of environmental/ecological essays. Each topic alone would have made a good book. Together they yield a great one, richly detailed and finely written.”
—Joe Henderson, former editor, Runner’s World
“An epic story of how important our fitness as individuals may be to the long-run sustainability of our national and global society.”
—Jacqueline Hansen, two-time world-record holder for the women’s marathon, Boston Marathon winner, and first woman to run a sub-2:40 marathon
“Ayres’s tale is nothing less than a philosophical treatise on how to survive and thrive in a world of dwindling resources, alarming climate change, and haunting violence. It’s about a human race, but also the human race.”
—Larry Shapiro, PhD, author of Zen and the Art of Running
“This is a story of critical connections—about the dawning realization that we need to rediscover how to think not just on our feet but with our feet.”
—Thom Hartmann, host of the Thom Hartmann radio and TV shows
“In a culture addicted to quick hits, fast times, and unrelenting over-stimulus, Ed Ayres speaks with the voice of wisdom, simplicity, and acceptance of what is. We highly recommend this book to anyone ready to step off the speeding train and do a freefall into the present.”
—Danny and Katherine Dreyer, authors of Chi Running, Chi Walking, and Chi Marathon
Also by Ed Ayres
God’s Last Offer: Negotiating for a Sustainable Future
Crossing the Energy Divide: Moving from Fossil Fuel Dependence to a Clean-Energy Future
(with Robert U. Ayres)
The Worldwatch Reader on Global Environmental Issues
(Co-editor, with Lester R. Brown)
And Then the Vulture Eats You: True Tales About Ultramarathons and Those Who Run Them
(Contributor)
Imagine What America Could Be in the 21st Century: Visions of a Better Future from Leading American Thinkers
(Contributor)
The Longest Race
A Lifelong Runner,
an Iconic Ultramarathon,
and the Case for Human Endurance
Ed Ayres
New York
The Longest Race: A Lifelong Runner, an Iconic Ultramarathon, and the Case for Human Endurance
Copyright © Ed Ayres, 2012
Map copyright © David Atkinson | handmademaps.com, 2012
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quot
ed in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The Experiment, LLC
260 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10001–6408
www.theexperimentpublishing.com
The Experiment’s books are available at special discounts when purchased in bulk for premiums and sales promotions as well as for fundraising or educational use. For details, contact us at [email protected].
Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and The Experiment was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been capitalized.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ayres, Ed.
The longest race : a lifelong runner, an iconic ultramarathon, and the case for human endurance / Ed Ayres.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 978-1-61519-063-8 (pbk.) -- ISBN 978-1-61519-161-1 (ebook)
1. Marathon running. I. Title.
GV1065.A97 2012
796.42'52--dc23
2012017075
ISBN 978-1-61519-063-8
Ebook ISBN 978-1-61519-161-1
Jacket design by Jen O’Connor
Jacket photograph © Jack Gescheidt | JackPhoto.com
Author photograph © Michael Asmar | Joie de Vivre Photography
Text design by Pauline Neuwirth, Neuwirth & Associates, Inc.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Distributed by Workman Publishing Company, Inc.
Distributed simultaneously in Canada by Thomas Allen and Son Ltd.
First published October 2012
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Map
1 | Boonsboro, Dawn
The Start—When Life Begins Again
2 | South Mountain
The Rush—and the Dilemma of Pacing
3 | Appalachian Trail
What Are My Running Shoes For? The Journey from Barefoot Hunter to “Boots on the Ground” to Where I Am Now
4 | Weverton Cliff
The Art of Breathing and the Music of Motion: Do My Feet Have Eyes of Their Own?
5 | Keep Tryst Road
With a Little Help from Our Friends: The Not-So-Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner
6 | Towpath
Learning from Quarterbacks: The Slower-Is-Faster Phenomenon
7 | Antietam Aqueduct
Redemption: A Recovering Strength for the Human Runner—and for the Human Race
8 | Killiansburg Cave
Becoming a Persistence Hunter: The Long Day of Tracking, the Grateful Kill, the Celebration
9 | Snyder’s Landing
The Energy-Supply Illusion: Carbo-Loading, Body Heat, and Naked Skin
10 | A Boiled-Potato Miracle
Burning Fat in a Carbohydrate Fire: A Secret of the Inca Messengers
11 | Taylor’s Landing
Negotiating with Fatigue—and Turning Long Hours into Moments
12 | Dam Number 4
Seeing Around Bends: We Came, We Envisioned . . . We Got Disconnected
13 | Country Road
The Blessing and Curse of Competition: Why Vince Lombardi Was Dead Wrong
14 | Williamsport
If You Fall, Then You Crawl. What Is It About Finishing?
15 | Late Afternoon
The Fading Light
Postscript: 2012
Appendix
Notes for an Aspiring Ultrarunner
Notes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Boonsboro, Dawn
The Start—When Life Begins Again
I don’t remember being born. I doubt that anyone does. But I wonder if the moment you push off from the starting line of a long-distance footrace might be a subliminal replay of that long-forgotten launch of a new life. As the big moment approaches, you’re jammed up behind an unyielding human wall—the too-close backs of other runners’ necks, shoulder blades, elbows, thighs, and calves not quite ready to let you surge forward. You’re about as naked as climate and social convention will allow, and at the same time you may feel your shoulders and hips bumping unavoidably against other shoulders and hips that are not yours but that, in a way, you feel kinship with. Then suddenly you’re breaking free, and the long journey—in the company of others, but very much on your own—has begun.
There’s magic in a moment like this. It’s not only like being reborn each time you race; it’s like having been given the secret to the most astonishing means of propulsion ever to appear on earth. And, arguably, that’s what the human body offers, as many endurance runners are discovering. A horse can’t compare. A bald eagle can’t compare. For that matter, even a 24,500-mile-per-hour Apollo rocket to the moon couldn’t have compared. Now, as I waited at the starting line, it struck me that our long-lost president John F. Kennedy, whose vision had brought that Apollo rocket into being, might be pleased by what we were about to attempt here in this fifty-mile trail race that had borne his name for the nearly four decades since his assassination.
It was late November 2001. The World Trade Center had been destroyed just over two months earlier, and the country had been staggered by the shock. But life goes on. There were a lot of Marines in this race, and no well-trained runner needed to be reminded that “when the going gets tough, the tough get going”—a credo generally attributed to President Kennedy’s father, Joseph P. Kennedy. Elite Marine distance runners were as tough a breed as you’d find on this planet, and as we waited for the countdown I could see that the guys in red and gold were poised to take off like cannon shots. God help any baby who’s born quite like that.
Along with the seven-man All Marines and Quantico Marines teams, there were contingents from the US Naval Academy and the army’s 82nd Airborne Division, among others. The military presence at this race had been strong since the first running in 1963, maybe because it was JFK’s challenge to the Marines in 1962—see if you can walk fifty miles in a day, like Teddy Roosevelt’s Marines did—that had been the original inspiration. At the time, Kennedy had reason to fear that the physical fitness of the American military was in severe decline. But this year, in the wake of 9/11, the “when the going gets tough” spirit seemed almost palpable.
A few yards away, I spotted Frank Probst, a guy I’d had a competitive rivalry with for most of the past decade. Frank was fifty-seven and still worked at army headquarters—although what he did there I didn’t know. On that blue-sky September morning nine weeks ago, he had just stepped through an exit on the southwest side of the Pentagon, on his way to another part of the building, when a Boeing 757 roared very low across the adjacent road, coming straight at him. As it clipped off a utility pole, he threw himself to the ground and the plane missed him by about fifteen feet before exploding through the Pentagon’s massive concrete wall. In the following days, as the attack’s prime surviving witness, he’d had to replay his near-death experience in intensive interrogation, but now here he was—ready to run.
My reasons for entering this race were as complex—or simple—as my reasons for wanting to be alive. I’d been a competitive long-distance runner for the past forty-four years, and I was undeniably addicted. I had also just turned sixty, and it can feel disconcerting to a man at that age to find that he no longer has the strength or mojo that he once had, and that has always seemed an essential part of who he is. Part of my motivation was that I wanted to see if I could still run with guys who were in their twenties or thirties—or even forties. I had reasons to think maybe I could.
Possibly the biggest reason I was standing here, though, was about that most irreducibl
e of all human needs—the instinct to survive. An ultramarathon race, or ultra, (any footrace longer than a marathon) is a ritual of survival. In a world beset by ever-more ominous threats—now heightened by those tragic events of two months ago—the need to not just hope and plan intelligently but to actively practice the art of survival had put a tightening grip on me.
Nearly a thousand marathon-hardened runners were entered—the maximum number the government would allow to run on the Appalachian Trail. I was one of the oldest people in the field, but I knew I had two advantages. First, I might well be the most experienced runner in this race, if not in the whole country, and I wanted to find out to what extent experience could trump youth, or at least keep pace with it. Our culture was more and more dominated by youth, and I frankly needed to know if I still counted. In a short-distance run, or sprint, there was little—well, nothing—an old guy could do to compete with a twenty- or twenty-five-year-old. Guys my age, no matter how tough or strong they might be, could never play wide receiver for the Redskins or Steelers, catching passes and sprinting for touchdowns. In a long run, though, it might be a different story. Maybe my experience could give me an edge.
The second advantage I had stemmed from the work I’d done for the past ten years at the Worldwatch Institute in Washington, DC, as an editor, parsing research reports from environmental scientists documenting what appeared to be the declining stability and sustainability of our civilization. Over the years, I’d noticed curious parallels between the ecology of human societies under duress and that of an individual human under great stress. I had begun to wonder, are these parallels more than just coincidence? Earlier in my career, I’d spent seven years editing research reports for several of the pioneers of the environmental movement and had my first inklings that survival wasn’t just an abstract, academic concept of interest to biology students studying Darwin; it was very here and now. Although most of the general public seemed oblivious, the scientists I worked with (and many others I would correspond with in later years) were deeply alarmed. The first scientist I’d done editing for, in the 1970s, was the nuclear physicist Theodore B. (Ted) Taylor, who earlier in his career, at Los Alamos, had designed the largest fission atomic bomb ever exploded on earth—the so-called Super Oralloy bomb, which was detonated over Enewetak Atoll in the Pacific in 1953 with a power thirty-seven times that of the bomb we dropped on Hiroshima. Dr. Taylor had also designed the smallest atomic bomb ever exploded—the so-called suitcase bomb, which could fit in the trunk of a car. By the time I met him, he had renounced that legacy and was laboring to warn the world of the dangers of nuclear leaks, thefts, accidents, and terrorism. He had surmised, several years ago, that the World Trade Center might be a prime target for terrorists armed with a suitcase bomb like the one he had designed.
