By Pete Stringer

   "What difference does it make how fit you are if you’ve lost your 

mind?"

   This statement was a quote attributed to the wife of one of the 

entrants in the Haliburton Forest 100-mile Endurance Run held 

Labor Day weekend in Northern Ontario.  The setting was the 

stark, primitive wilderness in a private, protected wild animal 

preserve.

   I was there because I had found it too difficult to wait a whole 

year for personal redemption.  I had attempted the Vermont 100 

a month earlier, only to be frustrated by losing the trail in the dark 

of night after passing the last medical checkpoint at 84 miles, 

still on schedule for an American record in my age group and on 

the way to becoming the first person from Cape Cod to officially 

run 100 miles non-stop.

   The difference, this time around, was that I had a support crew.  

I had gone to Vermont without heeding the race director’s suggestion 

that I have handlers or "pacers" for the last few miles.  I had sadly 

learned that while running may be ultimate individual sport, ultra trail 

running over huge distances is a team effort - both logistically and 

emotionally.  My girl friend Diane Metayer and Harold Ratchford, 

the best buddy over the past 30 years, provided me with the 

wherewithal to be successful this time around.

   The "Holy Grail" of 100 running is to complete the distance in 

24 hours; a special belt buckle is awarded to those who accomplish 

the feat.  Thus, when I crossed the line at 5:34 a.m. the following 

day, there was a special sense of joining an elite group of human 

beings.  Only five of us were in this category, though 11 of the 

22 starters completed the course in the allotted 30 hours.  My time 

placed be two hours ahead of the next finisher in my age group, 

whom I had passed for the last time at 74 miles.

   Diane and Harold alternated at pacing me over the last 20 miles.  

Their help was invaluable.  By that time I was doing more walking 

than running, almost a necessity in the dark, given the difficulty of 

seeing roots, rocks and trail signs with a flashlight.  In preparation, 

I had taken a cue from Ted Corbitt’s book and had run a lot of 

26-mile marathons beforehand; six of them since Boston, or about 

one every other week.  What would I do different next time?  I 

would drink more coffee, no matter how much antacid what would 

require.  I would walk uphills even earlier than I did, perhaps at 40 

miles on.  I would not attempt two 100’s this close together.

   In the end, as we rather gingerly and painfully limped over to 

the awards brunch the next day, Harold - a non-runner, totally 

innocent of the crazy weekend he had volunteered for - turned to 

me and smiled, "Geez, Pete, if I had known how bad you wanted 

one of those buckles, I would have gone out and bought ya one!"

   What, and miss all the glory?

Columns represent the opinions of the individuals and do not necessarily reflect the attitudes of the club.