This is even NUC, since I just ran the 25K one loop race.

  We had a little over 70 starters including the six little loop (5.1 mile) non-finishers. This was about twice our previous high, so I guess word is getting around that this is a fun race. We also had a good weather day, always a gamble at this time of year. As a matter of fact, it was warm enough so that the course actually ran a little slow because the sand didn’t have that firmness that comes with sub-freezing temps.
  As usual, there were all kinds of stories. The pleasure I get out of knowing so many people is that I get to participate with them emotionally in their races as well. I always end up so inspired, especially by the challenged ones. But four-time champion and race winner Greg Stone frequently flatters me by asking for training advice. Then there is the Cape Cod Ultra Society, about 18 of us at the moment, and they all share their races with me.
   And this winter I have had this loveable crew of 10-12 hardy beginner runners who meet me at the Osterville Historical Society two nights a week. We use an open-end boat shed for the ten minute roll call and talk from the ancient coach. And I must say, this is a very, VERY diverse group! BUT TOUGH! Enthusiastic!  Most are beginners but two decided to try the whole 25K – a ten year old boy and a 64 year old man. The little guy, Lukas Janulaitis, flew through the initial little loop, then waited ten minutes for his mom to come in so he could ask her permission to continue. I had stayed out of it, even though I knew how much he was hoping to do it. He has been in my running classes since way back in May, never missing a session; very shy and quiet, a model student. But after all, it was a parent’s call, though I had a hard time not chatting up about other ultra little guys (Gavin Wrublik always comes to mind). A few hours later I had the joy of watching a memorable family portrait as Lukas jogged to a proud finish in the blue and gold day. Smiles and tears. A photo framed by the immense sand dunes and the blue white caps of the Atlantic. His dad had trudged out two and a half miles on the beach to meet him.
  There were so many other great stories, it is just that Lukas had the best of them. My good friend and Volstate finisher Fred Murolo was his usual steely self, completing the 50K for the sixth time in a row to keep his record perfect. Legitimate tough guy Special Services Koa Hasegawa slogged through the deep sand to carve out a finish, and promptly declared it "was the toughest thing I have done lately!" Considering he has been dropped in the middle of the Everglades and other jungles in survival training sessions, that’s saying a mouthful. Colleen Murphy was first woman in the 50K and beat all but eight of the guys.
Jamie Zschau won the 25K in a new course record 2:07, and Molly Alesch was first woman in 2:19. (It is generally estimated that running these dune races are about 40 minutes a half slower for the distance in the deep sand.)  Mountain and Hardrock runners Julian Jamison and Jeff List used the event for bigger and tougher prey (Julian for another try at that elusive finish at the yellow gate in the backwoods of Tennessee).
  There were great mug shots fore and aft, many of them displaying the classic rear view — a bent over position that illustrates just how shapely the distaff anatomy becomes from running all these fatasses. Race director Bob Jensen conducted the whole thing with ever-smiling wife (and head timer & cheerleader) Fiona, replete in his colorful new court jester outfit and top-fashion Tibetan cap fresh from California. The quahog chowder got the triple A review, and we got to use the new bath house as headquarters, a step up from the 8 by 12 camper of previous years.
  My race was one that I’ll remember for a long while. I have been training my ass off this winter in hopes of a decent Boston and Self Tran six day, but a 17 minute p.b. for the course at age 70 was something I would never have predicted. 12th out of the 40 runners in the race, and I managed to edge out a few guys on the beach homestretch (you will never know what it meant to an old gaffer by coming up afterwards so graciously and shaking my hand and calling me "Sir. Oh you machine Sir.")  Everything just clicked, and I kept thinking of Karl King’s advice, "when all else fails, try training." I’ve put in 80 and 90 mile weeks despite a week crowded by opting for opera courses, Big Brothers, ten minute play lectures, and high school basketball games. The key has been yet another diet that has shaved another four pounds off my previous starvation routine. I have yet to discover where losing weight is not cost-effective even when I am now 25 lbs. less than the weight I played football at in high school. Also, reading the National Master’s News and the incredible Earl Fee and his three times a week interval sessions. (amongst other exploits, Fee at age 80 has run 400 meters in 71.24 seconds) His books reflect the intellect of the retired nuclear physicist he is — he does not accept previous perimeters. I love that; we all can tag along and get dragged to new vistas ourselves.
The Fatass was a good start. For direction, for inspiration, I used a ten year old boy and an 80 year old that I have never met.

  One constant, undying love that I have had throughout my life is running. As a participant, spectator, and competitor. It has had so many faces, taken so many nice turns, that it just keeps on thrilling me. I go back to the decade when I had the entire U.S. 1956 Olympic track team plastered all over my bedroom walls (Morrow, Oerter, Jenkins, Connolly, Courtney, O’Brien, etal. Gold medalists, all). I get inspiration and motivation everywhere, including this group. There really is no running I do not like, or actively participate in. Track, road, trail, indoor, ultra, multiday, marathons, 10Ks, coaching, etc. It’s all good, and I never seem to tire of it. Like Fee, I love to train, see what works.
  My latest venture has been the Runthruthewinter Club, which meets at the staid olde Osterville Historical Museum two nights a week for a friendly three mile run and gabfest for beginners. Our first week, despite atrocious weather, revealed just how many were waiting for something like this to happen.
  But tomorrow may be a challenge for the old coach to lead the way, for today was the eighth annual 50 mile solo run from Hyannis to Provincetown for my favorite charity, the Big Brothers/ Big Sisters Cape Cod. Despite the woeful economy, contributions have been way up this year, and this makes me very happy, because 90% of the money is used for camperships for the kids. (the rest for their Christmas party Dec. 9th) Going away to camp was a life-changer for me in my youth, as I had an abusive home life similar to what Frank Shorter describes in the last Runners World. I found adult male role models that did not have to prove their masculinity by pounding little guys.
  Today’s time was 10:28, much of an improvement over the past two years. As usual, I was tremendously helped over the last 15  miles or so by my wife Jane’s expert crewing me in her best Val Aistars-type fashion. For inspiration, I read yet another great article by the 82 year old Earl Fee in National Masters News. This retired nuclear engineer (WR galore, but try this one on: 71 seconds for the 400 at age 80 !) writes clearly and with passion, and best of all, backs up his statements with scientific evidence or examples.
  I look at the photo accompanying the article, (appropriately named Anti-Aging, and the Short-Fast-Aerobic Interval Method), and Fee looks to have the physique and musculature of a man in his 30s — with a really good build. He is also a poet, artist, inventor, and a few other things, all done well. But his most fervent passion, his true love,  remains running.
  Just like me.

  From a viewpoint several days after the completion of my Triad, I find it interesting to ask myself what I have learned. To reacquaint, it was the Bay State Marathon for peak BQ fastest time, followed by a 100 mile road ultra that was spontaneously organized and participated in the next weekend, followed by a third consecutive weekend racing a hilly marathon to celebrate #200. In order of listing, my goals were speedy time for the first, a token appearance in the second (mostly for reasons of a historical and supportive gesture), and third, a representative effort for #200 over the hallowed ground of Falmouth, whose august members put on an all-volunteer marathon that I have done 19 times for all the right reasons. Courtney Bird and company serve up a marathon that is all about fun, while preserving the integrity and support that any competitive runner appreciates.
  Bay State produced a 4:09, with a big negative split of seven minutes because I went out somewhat conservatively, not quite believing what my training times had been telling me: that a four hour marathon was possible again at age 70. Along the way, one of my mile intervals had been under seven minutes, a time not visited in training for a long while. My mileage was up by 15 – 20%, but even more important, my weight had been fought down to 157, a number I had not seen since my junior year in high school. So while I was happy with the 4:09 and the win, you don’t run an efficiently-fast marathon when your last three miles are 8:51, 8:35, and 8:15. Very windy day, but other than that, no problems.
  The inaugural Cape Cod 100 the next weekend was beset by gastric problems. Normally not a big deal, as there were plenty of places to stop in the woods in the dark, but this resulted in me running all 36 miles of my participation very alone and lonely, asking myself the wisdom of running this long on tired legs just to support a hastily arranged 100 for historical reasons. I had been pretty sore from Sunday’s hard effort to make Wednesday’s beginner run class quite uncomfortable (had considered using a bike, but this might have projected poor form). At 36 miles, my legs were sore, my spirits were flagging, Jane was at the aid station, and while I much appreciated Bob & Fiona’s work and organization efforts for the fledgling race, I had had enough. I decided to cut my losses, and think about next week’s marathon.
  Surprisingly enough, I noticed that I wasn’t quite as sore recovering this week, and day by day felt better and better. Good enough, in fact, to do 4 X 400 at the track on Thursday to test the rehab, and produced one 1:41 lap. I rested both Friday and Saturday. If there is anything I have learned about marathon training, it is the more intervals, the better. The elites are now doing speedwork two and three times a week (some even more!) and if you can take the workload, it is all productive. (old guys look at you like you have three heads when you mention this)
  I also feel that aging does not necessarily dictate a slower recovery, because this is something I feel the common populace wants to believe, rather than the unlikely fact that endurance and recovery is much more a learned thing than a natural talent like speed. At least, this has been the case with me.
  At any rate, my third marathon weekend produced a 4:23 over a difficult course on a very cold and windy day, one that dictated gloves and long pants for almost all runners. Under these conditions, I was pleased, and think it was probably equal to the 4:09 exactly two weeks before over a flat course. I am thinking that without the 36 miler between races, I might have been about ten minutes faster, but this is mere speculation. A non-racing footnote is that Jane met me at the finish line in her gorilla suit and tutu, whilst playing her ukulele and accordion. The accent was on fun and entertainment whilst preserving the integrity of this fine all-volunteer Cape Cod Marathon, and it was no accident that I chose it for my 200th. I have done this one 19 times, and like all the other 26.2 races, have never trekked the distance for appearance sake or partnership with others, but as a competitor: to perform just as well as I can possibly race on that given day. To run holding hands with somebody is not support, but a game you might hold at the playground. I believe in competing, and like warriors tradition, you wear your individual race on your shield. The battle you join is a hard one, but fought alone as a warrior, you answer questions about yourself.
  It was, and forever will be, an experiment of one.
  Pete Stringer
  Looking back, I am

Two new members to the Cape’s fine ultra society, Steve Sullivan and Doug Lavoie, made auspicious debuts Fri/Sat up at Wakefield’s 24 hr. Around the Lake Ultra.
58 year old Steve compiled 115 miles for third place overall despite getting in the strange role of dog umpire in a sudden canine to-do at the halfway point, a chore that landed him on his head and dealt quite a gash to his eye. No matter, lion-hearted Steve showed the stout stuff of men from the land of fishes and cod, and simply picked himself up and continued on his way. Loud cries of sympathy from sisters Laurie and Kelly turned to cheers as he shrugged off medical assistance (both are nurses). What’s a little blood to true gladiators?
  Doug Lavoie of Hyannis, 59, made his return to ultras after about a 30 year absence due to a horrific surf board accident that cost him the best years of his running career, and compiled 83 miles until a poor food choice upset his stomach and ended his race at about 22 hours. Both men acquitted themselves nobly and brought glory to both the CCAC and the fabled CCUS.
  Speaking of glory, Janet Kelly ran the marathon portion of the multi event in a scintillating 3:58, right on the mark which she fearlessly predicted to this reporter despite the nighttime start and hard sidewalk surface to the loop course. Our Ken Lemerise scored a 3:55 time himself, then donned his best cheerleader outfit and coached, crewed, and paced friend Steve on & on for the rest of the night and day. Such emotional support is often the difference in the best ultra efforts.
  Not to be forgotten, our noble president Bob "Ecky" Eckerson notched marathon-or-longer #98 in a time of 5:22 after eight loops of the Lake Quannapowitt course. Right on schedule to make the Cape Cod Marathon his 100th such trek in the fall.

~ Pete Stringer, stealth ultra reporter

I am not sure what modifying table I might use to fit this one into a marathon comparative equation chart, but overall, I feel my race Sunday might score well on some sort of "difficulty quotient graph.” This was the inaugural running of the Mad Marathon in Waitsfield, Vermont.  "Mad" purportedly used because it was held in the scenic Mad River Valley, and professedly not  limited to the insane.
  It was hot. Very hot. Well, what would one expect for the middle of July?
  And it was hilly, or mountainous, take your pick of adjectives. If you were not going up, you were going down, and I was thinking at one point that given a comparison, the second half of the Cape Cod Marathon would be described as flat. Of 600 entries in the marathon, only four finished under three hours, so that gives you an idea.
  But it was green & gold gorgeous, living up to its promotion ads as America’s Most Beautiful Marathon. (Well, Cape Cod or Big Sur might contest that). Corn fields and sun flowers and cows and horses and green pastures everywhere. A quaint little New England village much resembling Woodstock, with nary a MacDonald’s or Burger King to be found. And for a first-time event, newbie management glitches were at a minimum, nobody ran off course, and water stations seemed to show up whenever you needed them. Best of all, Vermonters lived up to their reputation as friendly folk. Hoses were everywhere. Kids, especially, love the license to squirt adults full in the face.
  A room with a view at a ski chalet set us back a very reasonable sum of $54, and there were museums and galleries scattered throughout the town for those wanting a little diversion. I would recommend this little race next year for those not necessarily looking for a fast course to qualify on, but perhaps filling in their 50-state race card or Marathon Maniac status. Or a HARD training run for an ultra race!
  Which, if that is what I was after, I got my money’s worth! I think my time of 4:45 might have been worth 4:10 on a more normal course  and perhaps with temps 30 degrees cooler.

~ Pete Stringer, nearing 200

  This morning I am thinking I had better get a few thoughts down on weekend past before they slip into the fog.
  I had opted for this race a while back when I had discovered that once again the Self Transcendence 6-day in NY was piggy-backed onto a start date the same week of Boston.Three days recovery not enough, ‘less you are a Spartan or John Price.
  My now-laughable goal was 201 miles, which I had ambitiously stated to secret believers, but in fact had done before in 2007 in the first three days of that 6-day in Flushing Meadows -  88,55,&58, -  and also after another hard Boston. Could I really have aged all that much in four years? (Why, YES !!, you old fool) the running gods shouted gleefully.
  I ended up with 160 miles, good for seventh place, with 62, 63, and a wimped-out & slacker 35. No real excuse, either. Fit me for a dress, as Bill Parcells would say, but oops! – the overall champ Charlotte was WEARING a dress! I just sat or lay in my tent the last 11 hours of the event listening to the rain drops or chatting it up with folks while watching the valiant efforts of the more stout hearted competitors. I am still competition-minded, too, but somewhere amongst the drizzlies long about day three, just lost the drive. Canadian Don Landry kept churning away and really deserved to catch me, but missed by a scant two miles, and I reaped little satisfaction out-totaling him whilst curled up with my wussy Cowardly Lion feelings.
  The course is good, the administration excellent. Rick McNulty actually organized a race that went an extra day after my suggestion a few months ago. I cannot think of a single negative. Many, many positives, as mentioned in the Joe Judd and Kevin Flood reports. There was a delay in getting the results, but that was due to my poor computer skills. If I am in any way unique, it is because I am as interested in your races and totals as I am in mine, a lifelong intense passion that always seems to surprise folks who don’t imagine how much I am aware of their efforts long before I even meet them. I gain much inspiration and knowledge from this observation, and such runners as Steve Tursi (combo NBA & NFL look-a-like lost in ultraland), Hung-Kwong Ng, Kevin Flood (Mr. Generosity), Joe Judd (best ultra physique, with legs starting somewhere around the arm pits), Bill Gentry (he would be within his rights to charge an entertainment tax), beauteous Shannon McGinn, and Sir Mike Potter just motivated the heck out of me by their very diverse but always earnest approaches to their racing. And all of these runners I was meeting in person for the first time.
  The commonality of ultrapeople are that they seem to comprise just the substance you are looking for at the moment. Need a little chuckle? Perhaps a thoughtful opinion? A little advice? A soul talk in the wee hours of the night? And always, always, there is the compassion. "How you? Man, I am hurting.. this is a stupid sport anyways. What in the world made me ask for a third day? But you want to go around again? Okay, i will try one more, just to stay on yer good side…"
  And so it goes. You end up with folks you just like to be with. Cheer their efforts, learn about their lives. Nothing, it seems, is deemed too personal. They’re interested in the real stuff.
  I love ultrarunning. I love the embodiment of its fit with the Teddy Roosevelt quote about the brave gladiators down in the blooded sands of the arena.
  I love the short essay of Mr. David Blaikie, who said: "Perhaps the genius of ultrarunning is its supreme lack of utility. It makes no sense in a world of space ships and supercomputers to run vast distances on foot. There is no money in it and no fame, frequently not even the approval of peers. But as poets apostles and philosophers have insisted from the dawn of time there is more to life than logic and common sense. The ultrarunners know this instinctively. And they know something else that is lost on the sedentary. They understand perhaps better than anyone that the doors to the spirit will swing open with physical effort. In running such long and taxing distances they answer a call from the deepest realms of their being — a call that asks who they are…"
  Unfortunately, "who I was" in this one was surely lower than the where I had placed the bar. Not what I had intended. But luckily, hope springs eternal.
  To copy from the man from Tennessee:  Training starts tomorrow.
  ~ Pete Stringer

  How can you repeat doing anything 29 times and still find it interesting? Something to value? You might even describe — my goodness — , precious?
  Make it the Boston Marathon, and find out how. Or better yet, why.

Read the rest of this entry…