Children Of The Night

BRC star runner Mary Ross at the Sulphur Springs 10 k Trail Race start.
BRC star runner Mary Ross at the Sulphur Springs 10 k Trail Race start.
Original photo by Gloria jazzed up in Corel Photo Paint by Mark Collis

Note: This was supposed to be a newsletter cover,
but what worked in colour, didn't work in black and white.

Ah, I think I did something stupid on the May 24, 2003 weekend. Again. In fact, I had so much fun that I did it twice.

I was helping out at the club's Sulphur Springs trail races that weekend, working with the race timing team, directing runner traffic and generally getting in everyone 's way. It's a great trail race with a total of five different distances being run, 10, 25 and 50 kilometres as well as 50 and 100 miles, all on much the same course. I had lots of fun, and saw some great finishes over the weekend, especially Burlington Runners club member Mary Ross pounding in ahead of two guys and finishing first over all on the 10 k.

What really impressed me was not the effort and mud on most of the runners or the number and dedication of the volunteers, but the strength of will and perseverance of the sixteen 100 mile participants that started that day at 6:00 AM.

It takes a certain kind of athlete to complete a 100 miler. Most non-ultra runners would say things like "insane", "stupid" and "in need of a life" and in some cases they would be right. But, there is an intensity, a relaxed strength, and a deep-rooted determination that the 100 milers have that just isn't there for the ten and twenty-five kilometre runners. The fifty milers come close, but there's a world of difference between traveling on your feet for seven to twelve hours and doing the same thing for twice the distance over twice the time.

I was manning the timing gear, collecting the lap splits and the finishing times. After the 50 milers had all finished and left, I knew I would have a lot of time to kill until the official cut off at 11:00 AM the next morning (30 hours maximum). With only sixteen 100 milers on the course that started running at 6:00 AM, there was going to be a lot of waiting between runners. It was either nap between runners or try and stay awake all night. At the very least, I thought I might be able to get a run in during the early evening while waiting for night to settle in. Club member Bobby Schofield suggested that I might want to pace a 100 miler on a twenty-kilometre lap. It sounded like a pretty good idea to me, besides, the thought of running though the familiar trails with just flashlight and glow sticks to show me the way was pretty enticing.

I knew two of the runners that had signed up for eight laps. Moe White had arranged Sharon Hewitt to pace him, so late in the afternoon when Monica Schulz blew through the start area, I offered to accompany her on the twenty-kilometre loop. I told her that I would run with her once it got dark, for her second to last lap. She seemed to be excited and grateful to have someone to run with, especially on one of the last mentally and physically tough loops.

I'm always looking for new and interesting things to do. I've done one 50 miler (the 50k's don't even compare), so I had a little experience with how it feels like to be out there by yourself for hours. Sometimes, you will beg for someone to talk to or even just be there to help motivate you, someone to watch over you and help you keep your head on straight when you have a tough patch, and at times, to have something, anything to distract you for just a few moments, to take your mind off how much you hurt and how much further you have to go. It's tough enough during the day when you can see your footing and surroundings, but at night... Well, I could only imagine. Here was my chance to experience it first hand, with a world-class athlete, without having to endure one hundred twenty kilometres first.

With night falling, temperatures dropping and the clouds threatening, I wimped out and went for the tights, long sleeve shirt, jacket, gloves and because it was a trail race, my trusty and abused Tilley.

I had seen the condition of the feet of a few of the runners. Running in wet, muddy shoes for hours can destroy the most prepared soles - I saw the blisters to prove it. Rather than my regular trail shoes, I opted for my trail spikes and gaiters. The spikes not only offered more traction, but they are pretty much waterproof and the gaiters keep out the mud and other trail trash. It's worked well in the past, so I gave it a shot.

I missed Monica on her pass through the timing station just as dusk was deepening into night, due to too much coffee. With a curse, I was off at a sprint to catch up. Ten minutes, one deer, a wrong turn and my first serious mud puddle later, I found and caught the bobbing lights ahead.

What can I say? How can anyone be so perky, up beat and pleasant after running 120 kilometres in about fifteen hours? It's just not right! We talked about the trail conditions, how the other competitors were doing, the animals we had seen, my daughter Amanda and Monica's trip to Africa to run in the Marathon Of the Sands the previous month. It might as well have been another of her organized 40-km training runs, for all the exhaustion she displayed. Every runner we met on the course was addressed with the concern of not just another runner and competitor, but of a friend and companion. No wonder everyone in the North American ultra community knows Monica.

That's not to say that we were taking it easy. Her splits throughout the day were consistent and she showed no signs of slowing the steady, ground eating pace she had run all day. I never got the impression that "the faster I move, the quicker I'm done" but more a matter of an iron willed desire to maintain her set pace. If I were to use one word to describe her attitude, it would be "Relentless". That mindset never changed during my time running with her.

This is part of what it means to be heroic.

Through the pizza stop at Thelma's station, other goodies and friendly faces at all the other aid stations, past the bats, spring peepers and deer, though the mud, rain, and bogs we ran. Down trails made magic by night, and through fields turned ethereal by the rising mist, it was all a wondrous experience, worth doing again.

During the last half of the loop, Monica joked with me about joining her for the last lap. I wasn't sure, I had computer equipment and times to check and I didn't know how the legs would hold out after the loop around the cornfield and a jaunt up the notorious "Gulch".

I had a great time. If anything would inspire me to run a 100 miler, it would be the few hours I spent on the trails that night. It was an experience that I am glad I did. Not once, but twice.

Yeah, I agreed to do the last lap as well, wouldn't you?

Psst… Anyone need a pacer?

By Mark G. Collis

Revised: December 24, 2003.