The world in my mind has always been a beautiful place where there is no pain, no hate and no boundaries. My mind, however, does not exist in the real world but rather in a fantasy place where only I reside. Suddenly in February of this year reality opened it’s ugly arms to me exposing things I’ve refused to allow in my life. I’ve seen pain, experienced pain, and unfortunately recognized that I have the potential to administer pain. The biggest discovery that I had during this time was that my mind is not in total control. Ultimately my body determines my limitations and yes I do have limitations.
If something comes easy and takes little work to attain is there really a challenge? I truly believe the answer to that question is no. The effort I’ve put forth the last two years at the JFK 50 was very good but the challenges put before me were easy to overcome. So the question is was I really challenged? Entering this year’s race the path that lay before me was littered with obstacles that I had never before been faced with. I had pain, doubt, and fear yet I refused to lower my expectations. The pain was the result of an unhealed stress fracture that I sustained while running a 100-mile race in February. Impatience and anxiety drove me to run too much too soon severely hampering the healing process. I rested for six weeks in March through April but had to be back on my feet in early May to pace a friend at the Massanutten 100-miler. I also had my own lofty goals in the coming months that I passionately wanted to pursue. Goals, that in the end had to be revised due to my physical condition. One of those goals that I refused to give up was to start and finish my ninth straight JFK 50 mile run.
In the weeks leading up to the race I tried valiantly to ramp my training up to a level that I felt comfortable with. I wanted to work hard and I tried to work hard but the harder I worked the more stress I put on my leg which in turn caused significant pain. I decided there was no hope and I would just have to learn how to manage the pain and still run. I learned to comply with my body’s demands by altering my running schedule based on pain only. I ran when I could and stopped when I couldn’t. There were times I would literally run out my door only a few yards and realize my day was over. I had no tears, no frustration but rather I became determined to look forward to the next day when I could run. This would become a pattern over the two months of race specific training I did leading up to the day of the event itself.
My friend Rick Palmer and I drove down to Hagerstown, Maryland together the Friday before the race. It took us about 2 ? hours to drive the 140 miles from where I live in Delaware to our hotel in Hagerstown. There was a lot of chitchatting and laughing on the way down but mysteriously missing were the nerves and enthusiasm. Rick had suffered his own leg ailment in September so even though I tried to convince him his fitness level was sufficient his confidence lacked. Whether on purpose or not we stayed away from conversation about the race and just had some fun going down. We arrived too late to pick-up our race numbers so instead we checked in at our hotel. We then ate dinner and watched his alma mater Maryland squeak by Michigan State in the Coaches vs. Cancer NCAA basketball tournament. I was sleepy during the game but once it was over my body changed directions on me. I was full of tension, not about the race but rather natural energy flowing through my veins caused me to shake. I had a headache as the blood rushed to the top of my head and suddenly my mouth was dry as a bone. The symptoms may be strange for most yet not uncommon for me. I realized early on that sleep would be next to impossible and that instead of trying too hard I should focus my attention on drinking water. Sleep wouldn’t be a factor that would determine the outcome of my race but dehydration certainly could be. I spent the rest of the night either tossing or turning or getting up for water.
Finally the alarm sounded at 5 a.m. so I jumped up first and got myself ready to go. The race in Boonesboro was scheduled to start at 7 a.m. so we had plenty of time to piddle around before heading out. I’m the first to admit that patience challenges me every time so piddling is normally not a word in my vocabulary. Rick, on the other hand, is a very patient guy and I’m trying my best to learn from him. However at the same time I’m trying to teach him that on occasion it’s good to feel a sense of urgency. That opposite characteristic in both of us probably has a lot to do with why we are good friends. What I forget, because I’m in such a hurry, he remembers and what he forgets, because he takes time for granted, I remember. This day, however, things were going smooth and before I knew it we were on our way.
Before going to Boonesboro High School for the start we stopped off at a convenience store across the street and got our breakfast. I train hard and I prepare in every sense of the word but for some odd reason I never focus on my pre-race meal. I walked into the store, grabbed a Tastycake and a protein bar along with a bottle of tea and I felt I was good to go.
We arrived at the school just before 6 a.m. with still a few tasks that needed to be completed before the start. The first thing we needed to do was pick up our race numbers and attach them to our shirts, pants or somewhere on our body. The volunteers, as always, did a remarkable job of organizing the packet handout. We spent little time in a short line before receiving our race packets. We then attached our numbers and were now ready to roll. We did have a few minutes left to kill while the race director handed out some final instructions so Rick made his way to the bathroom while I contemplated what I was about to attempt. As usual for me I took the time to reflect upon memories of my grandfather and also ask God to keep an eye on me as I ran. This time generally puts me at peace while at the same time allows me to prepare for the grueling race ahead.
Rick and I then led the mass of people on the ? mile walk from the High School to the start line in downtown Boonesboro. Unlike past JFK events I’ve participated in the temperature was a moderate 45° under cloudy but non-threatening skies. I could feel a buzz in the crowd of over 1000 people that would be attempting the race on this day. JFK has a history of enlisting people that are attempting their first race of this distance. Anxious, enthusiastic runners were bouncing out of their shoes as they made the long walk into town. When finally there a gentlemen declared the starter most certainly because of the resonance of his voice yelled that the race would start in 5 minutes. If not prepared to go when you arrive there’s a good chance you could get trounced by the crowd of restless runners ready to start. It was at this point that Rick and I finally discussed strategy. I quickly gave him a recommendation or two as to how to start before wishing him luck. We placed ourselves a couple of tiers behind the elite runners and waited for the gun to go off.
Suddenly and out of nowhere the gun sounded and it was time to go. In the past I’ve tried to maintain a good pace from the start up to the 1.7-mile mark where the first steep incline of the day would be there to greet us. It would be no different on this day but within a ? mile I knew I was going to have to monitor my pace closely. I broke a lot of my own rules early and often starting within the first mile. I allowed doubts and pressure to creep into my thoughts. Those two things forced me to hold back and conserve for fear I might crash and burn later.
The trouble with success is that along with it brings expectations. Personal expectations can be easily managed through reasonable goals but expectations from others can be overwhelming. So overwhelming in fact that if I allow that to interfere with my race it will not be fun and in the end could be disappointing if I do not meet those perceived expectations. I honestly know people that will not run a race more than once or twice because of peer pressure. There is a built in fear that he or she might not be able to compete at the same level as they did the first one or two times. This is a pressure that I have had to learn to manage over the years by not allowing others to dictate to me what the definition of success is. I must admit that I generate goals based on my past times instead of my physical condition. There have been occasions that the goal I set has not been aggressive enough and there have been times when it’s been too aggressive. I still have a lot to learn about peer pressure but I’m proud of the fact that I go out each and every time and meet the challenge of managing it.
This day peer pressure would not be a factor as I was out to satisfy myself. My goal is to win if I can but do my best no matter what. I’m an intelligent guy and aware of the abilities of those around me. The chances of me winning this race on this day against those people were almost zero. However, for those of you who have watched "Dumb and Dumber" you know "there is a chance"! That chance disappeared quickly as those up front put the pedal to the metal and gradually increased the distance between us. Plan A was out the door so now it was on to plan B which was to hold my ground going up the steep incline that would lead us to the entrance of the Appalachian Trail. The first hill is always a good test of my level of conditioning. Six out of the eight times I’ve ran JFK I followed a plan to run this portion non-stop to the top. It builds my confidence and separates me from the pack, which allows me, room to run on the single track Appalachian Trail. By no means did I blaze up the hill but I did run to the top consistently and with little trouble. Once there I was met by a couple of people who yelled my name and cheered. I would have liked to have acknowledged their cheers but I was too busy trying to regain my composure. I did, however,
Funny thing about this day is that my mind wasn’t focused on the task at hand as much as it was other people. Normally on the AT section I can’t take a moment to stray away from where each foot lands. I have a reasonable fear that one false step could make me do a face plant on the jagged rocks that I’m dancing around. Today I allowed time to pass rather than the miles. I took the time to reflect upon the people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made while running in these types of events. I especially thought of my friend Calla in British Columbia who recently asked me to pace her in her first 100 mile run. I thought of my friend Lisa in Washington who has suffered through injury after injury since completing Western States in 2005. I thought of a person that I consider a friend but who in turn does not reciprocate. The pain generated from thoughts of this person is something I’ve learned to deal with over time. No one person is bad and everyone is deserving of my friendship. Finally I worried about my friend Rick knowing that he was attempting this race coming off of a severe injury. This wasn’t a strategy of mine going in but it happened naturally and without effort or planning. While I wanted to do well the race did not seem important nor did it seem to generate the normal excitement and energy that I have while competing. I’m certain that the exit I made out of my little fantasy world into reality had much to do with how I was feeling.
As I ran I could feel deep inside that I was losing ground but didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to it. I refused to look at my watch, as I knew the only result would be disappointment, worry, and defeat. Instead of focusing on who was passing me I continued to focus on my thoughts and the knowledge that time was the only factor in my success not the people I beat.
The very first year I did JFK I was overwhelmed by the size and shape of the rocks on the trail. Every year since the rocks seemingly got smaller and more dispersed. This year, however, I revisited 1998, my very first attempt at JFK. The rocks were again gigantic and sharp with no where to run but right on top of them. I plugged along moving as quickly as possible but at a snails pace at best. I struggled going downhill but ran strong going up so my time remained consistent yet I knew I was well off my previous year’s pace. The first trail section is only a teaser of what is to come as you exit back out onto an asphalt road after less than a mile of trail. Exiting the trail I blew past the first aid station, as the two bottles of fluid I was carrying were adequate enough to last until the next.
The asphalt road is quite easy to run on but challenging due to the steep ascent leading to the water tower at the top. I had planned to walk a portion of this as I had done last year. I did this in order to conserve energy for the more rugged trail ahead. Surprisingly I felt an energy surge and ran more than I had planned. The climb is not very long but long enough to justify a quick walk. The rest period is more to recover mentally than physically. Straining this early on to climb a short hill could lead to thoughts of what’s ahead instead of focusing on the task at hand. A little break relaxes the mind and allows more pleasant, positive thoughts to evolve.
As I climbed I initiated a conversation with Jay Manwiller from Pennsylvania. Normally I enjoy a good conversation as it allows me to keep my mind off of any strain or pain I might be experiencing. Today, however, I only wanted to acknowledge Jay quickly and then part ways so I could continue with my personal thoughts. Jay had other ideas as he continued to talk as we made our ascent to the top. He was a very positive guy with a lot of nice comments but slowly his conversation was wearing me down. I was not able to focus on the conversation and my own thoughts and tired quickly trying to do so. Gradually I allowed him to pull ahead so I could once again be alone. Looking back as I write this story it’s ironic that a lonely guy like myself would allow an opportunity to be around another person pass by so easily. Finally I hiked my way to the top and made a left onto the entrance of the Appalachian Trail where I would remain for the next four miles.
Upon entering the trail I was back to dancing around rocks while going up and down the short hills. The actual distance traversed on the rugged trail is only about ten miles but the energy that it takes to do so makes it feel more like twenty miles. Still very mellow but focused I ran what felt like a slow pace. The effort I gave was my best yet I didn’t seem to be on track. The stars weren’t aligned with the moon so I was going to have to do this one on my own. As usual the initial climb spread the field dramatically. There were only a few people directly in front of me and only a few that I could hear behind. I never ever once looked behind because the race was ahead. I have a tendency to worry about being caught but as I said earlier my only opponent on this day was the clock.
Just before I exited the trail into the third aid station at mile 10 a group a young Navy runners made their way past me. I love these guys! Not only are they skilled athletes but they are also very disciplined and respectful of everyone. I felt somewhat sad, as I knew that on this day I would not have the opportunity to spend time with them as I had in years past. I could see determination in the way that they strutted that was non-existent in me as they went by. Still I was happy to have spent even just the few moments I had with them. Being a runner in itself does not make one a hero but in my eyes each one of the military personnel that competed in this prestigious race is a hero.
Each of us navigated our way down the short, gradual hill that led us into the aid station. As we descended a professional photographer snapped our pictures in what I consider a hard place to smile. I’m pretty sure I smiled, as I was happy to get the heck off of the trail for the time being. The smile was short-lived because the break was only temporary. A quick stop at the aid station and then a jaunt through the grass onto an asphalt road, which led us, back onto the trail. Every other year I would have taken a peek at my stopwatch at this point to monitor my progress but this year my heart told me my time. I was well off pace yet strangely satisfied.
The trail, upon entering, led us up a steep hill for a significant period of time before leveling off and then eventually returning to form. Form being up and down on rocky terrain. Despite what I’ve written up to this point the entire Appalachian Trail is not littered with rocks but the majority of it is. In year’s past I took advantage and ran full speed where I could but this year I didn’t have it in me. I didn’t have it physically, mentally or emotionally. I wanted to win yet I didn’t want to give the effort necessary. I didn’t want to gamble or push myself to the brink of injury as I have in the past. Once again this is a product of my entrance into the new world of reality where I can feel pain and there are other things more important to me. I watched as a few people passed that normally would be no where near me. Naturally a feeling of disappointment overshadowed any other emotions as these people went by. Quickly though I prioritized my goals and realized it wasn’t that big of a deal. As I sit here and write my story I honestly can not believe how mellow and apathetic I truly was on race day.
I believe I’m successful because I set many goals and quickly revise them based on the type of day I’m having. I’m a true believer that the idea of setting multiple goals will stave off frustration and allow me to be successful no matter the outcome. That mindset saved me several times during the race as goal after goal went by the wayside. The next goal in line was to plan a way to finish under 8 hours. I felt this could be easily accomplished with a consistent effort and a positive attitude the rest of the way in.
I became upbeat when the trail became noticeably covered with a massive amount of pointed, jagged rocks. I wasn’t excited by the rocks but rather the knowledge that I would soon be descending the switchbacks, which exit the rugged trail. In order to do so, however, I had to maneuver my way safely around the obstacles in my path. My legs were tired and both sides of my groin were sore from the constant dancing but I had one more task at hand to complete before hitting the tow path. I lethargically battled the terrain as I slowly but surely made my way to the switchbacks. A sharp right turn later and voila I was there and could now relax and glide on down to the safety of the grassy field below. The descent was gradual and on terrain that could be easily managed. A few rocks were scattered about here and there but for the most part I could run freely without concern of tripping. My mind was clear of negative thoughts and focused on reaching the Weverton aid station, which would be the start of a whole new race.
When I reached the bottom a large group of supporters were there cheering the runners. First timers were probably surprised that this was not an aid station but rather just an area where an access road allowed crew to enter. We still had about a ? mile of trail to run upon exiting the grassy field. It’s at this point that I always keep my ears open. A train crosses the route that leads the runners onto the towpath, which can periodically delay runners access to the next section. I’ve never been one of the unlucky ones to lose the time waiting for the train to cross and didn’t want to start now. I hauled my butt as quickly as possible through the easy trail section and down into Weverton. No train whistle in earshot I took my time to refill my water bottles, grab a pack of Gu and slam some coke. Before leaving I dumped one of my water bottles in the trash because the aid along the path would be sufficient supply the rest of the way. Besides my arms were aching like crazy from carrying both bottles. The soreness of my arms was a genuine sign that I had lost a significant amount of fitness during the several months I’ve been battling injury. None the less I ditched the bottle, crossed the tracks and started my twenty six mile run on the C&O towpath.
The towpath can be the turning point in the race for anyone. The path runs along the Potomac River with virtually the same scenery the entire way. At first the scenic area is beautiful but as you continue the nothingness can literally mesmerize you. The path itself is a wide dirt road that is soft so it’s easy on the joints. It’s an extremely historic area where any civil war buff would love to be. I noticed immediately that the river was high and rushing along the banks. However, the path was dry with the exception of a few mud puddles here and there. While I spend most of the time looking straight ahead I do occasionally like to look across to the other shore at the state of West Virginia.
My goal going in was to try to run the entire route all the way until the end. There have been years that my effort on the Appalachian Trail has jeopardized my performance on the towpath.
While the path is conducive to fast runners it’s also a place where boredom can overwhelm you allowing negative thoughts to enter your mind. A loss of focus here and it’s a death march until the end and possibly a death sentence period. Many try to occupy their minds by developing a strategy of running for a certain period of time and walking for a certain period of time. I think that’s an excellent way to keep your mind occupied while also making good time. I’ve done that in the past and it’s worked fine but on this day my goal is to go all the way. In fact in order to achieve the sub-8 I have little time to spare dilly-dallying here so my mindset is move consistently.
I ran about one mile when I heard a voice yell my name. I was so focused on the path and achieving my goal that I had run right past my friend Carl Camp. Carl had run a 100-mile race the previous week and had the courage to come back out to Hagerstown to run the JFK for the sixth time. As soon as I recognized the voice I turned and saw that it was Carl. I backtracked a few feet in order to take the opportunity to acknowledge him and the effort he put forth the previous week. Delaware may be a small state but there are some very talented, tough individuals that reside there and Carl is one of them.
The quick conversation with Carl lifted my spirits, which increased my energy level. I honestly believe that positive communication amongst the runners is a good way to overcome adversity and stave off problems. Unfortunately for me I’m not fast enough to keep up with the top runners but I’m too fast for the middle of the pack so most times I’m alone or at least alone running at my pace.
JFK is unique in that it allows an early start for those that are concerned they may not have the ability to make the regular 12 hour cut-off. These people start the race two hours earlier than the rest of the competitors therefore most will be passed by anyone finishing in nine hours or under. I had been passing early starters ever since the ten-mile mark and now that I was on the towpath the volume of people that started early had increased. I absolutely enjoy encouraging these people but our paces were too different to have an actual conversation. While our comments back and forth were nice having a person run by my side certainly would have been better.
I ran consistently but never fast along the towpath. The previous year I pushed myself to run hard several miles of the path but this year it wasn’t to be. I was satisfied with my effort and not willing to put forth more. Occasionally I allowed the demons of the Potomac to take over and put negative thoughts in my mind. When this happened I relied heavily on my experience in long distance running to get me through these trying times. My center of attention changed from thoughts about my friends to my observations of Andy Jones-Wilkins at Western States 2006. He literally buried me on the trail in route to torching the eleven-mile section between Green Gate and the Highway 49 crossing. He struggled up the hill from the Rucky Chucky River crossing but upon arrival at Green Gate became reborn. Every time I felt down I thought of Andy putting forth that effort after 79 miles of running. Certainly I could bang out a 50 miler in good conditions on the easiest part of the course.
I never struggled to the point of walking yet with little more than eight miles to go on the path. Thoughts of doing so started entering my mind regularly. I dug deep inside and utilized my own advice for once. I told myself I can do anything I want if I want it bad enough. The question was how bad did I want this. I would find out soon enough as I staggered toward the dam which indicated the end of the path. In the distance I could see aid station personnel but they seemed so far away. I refused to look up until I reached the end because thoughts alone depleted my energy. Once there I knew I would have a revival of sorts because a new race was about to start on the final eight miles of asphalt road to the finish.
The volunteers were enthusiastic and encouraging and in fact would have gained my vote for best aid station if I had remembered to vote. A young man working that station not only instructed me where to go upon leaving but actually ran with me for a few yards. I’m always amazed at the kindness shown at ultra events. I’m convinced that the sport draws the true personality out of people. I honestly believe that it’s not people that make people do bad things but rather the environment they’re in. All people are good in their hearts if treated well. The only thing I can’t understand is why we can’t incorporate that type of mentality into everyday life. I think if that were the case than most of us would find what we are looking for without having to participate in ultras. Sometimes I wonder if what we are seeking is fellowship, attention and just overall kindness that is demonstrated in these events.
When I left mile 42 I hesitantly pulled my stopwatch up out of my shirt and took a peek at it. I was certain that I needed a cumulative time of at least 6:40 to have a legitimate shot at breaking 8 hours. The fastest I’ve ran the last 8.2 miles was in 2000 when I paced the third place woman, Holly Neault-Zinzow to the finish in 1:08. The slowest I ran this distance was in 2001 in an injury-riddled year when I ran in 1:30. I was surprised and relieved to see that the clock read 6:28 only 28 minutes off of last years time and 33 minutes off of the year before. I was now certain that if I remained focused that I could coast in under my goal time without a problem.
I have used many methods in order to navigate the final eight miles of backcountry roads. My only task was to choose the proper method for this day. The first obstacle was a short steep climb up away from the riverbank into a residential area. I had planned to walk this section all along and was not about to deviate from that plan now. While I seemingly ran the entire towpath alone now that I was on the road people came out of the woodwork and ran up alongside of me. At this point in the race I had run alone for so long that I wanted to take it home from here alone as well. Having people around to converse with momentarily was nice and distracting but I didn’t want to change my strategy at this point in the race. I still had over eight miles to go so if I allowed my competitive nature to take over and start to race there was still the potential of a death march. I fought those thoughts and maintained my own pace while at least six people passed me on the final stretch. I ran most of the way only stopping on a few occasions as a way to reenergize my mind. My body was fine but my mind was exhausted and overloaded with burden. The walk breaks relieved stress, which allowed me to think clearly.
The last eight miles are on country roads through several residential areas with farms interspersed throughout. There is a significant amount of vehicle traffic on the road with very little shoulder to run on. It’s important to not only remain focused on your goals but also to remain alert at all times. Even though the traffic control is excellent it’s still the responsibility of the runner to maintain his or her safety. I walked a couple of hills but in reality the only hill that I believe I could justify walking was the short jaunt that led me up to the 3 mile to go marker. It is kind of steep and a little long so the whole way there I planned to walk it at least part way. When I got there though I decided to chug my way up as much as I could. I got within thirty yards of the crest of the hill and decided it was time to walk. There were still three to go and plenty of time to get there. I was certain that any lost time over the next couple of miles could be made up on the
Final Mile as adrenaline would take me the rest of the way without much effort.
I ran easily and conservatively which pushed me forward enough to catch up with a young navy man named Fabian Ortiz (what a cool name!) who was struggling ahead. The young guy looked as if he couldn’t have been much more than 18 years old. He was wearing clothing that indicated he was part of the Navy military team. I chatted with him pulling him along by my side. I asked him questions diverting his attention trying to allow his mind to clear up. He obviously was not suffering physically but rather mentally. I figured if nothing else I could drag him into the finish line with me. Not surprising it only took a few questions before the young man became revitalized and torched the final part of the course to finish in just over 7:49. I, on the other hand, was about to face my most difficult challenge of the day.
What I thought would be an easy 1.3 mile stroll into the finish line became a real struggle. My weight and body structure tends to hinder me in ultras as well as my absentmindedness. I rely so much on my ability to mentally defeat adversity that I forget to nourish my body. At 5’9" and 140 pounds soaking weight I have very little body fat to use as an energy source. It seems that after four or five hours I have to rely on what I eat to get me to the finish and sometimes I just don’t take care of that need. This day I forgot and was about to pay the price for it.
Out of nowhere, with a little more than a mile to go, I became severely dizzy. In a panic I looked at my watch to determine how much time I had to finish the final mile. My watch read 7:38, which helped to console me somewhat but there, was still the concern that I could possibly pass out. I’ve been in this position before so I knew the first thing I needed to do was relax. I was starving and needed food but I was not willing to back track a quarter mile to the aid station to refuel. I was certain I could run/walk to the finish line without much difficulty. In the distance I could see the runners ahead making the right turn on the road which would lead us to the finish line. I was well aware of the short incline that took us there and was prepared to run to the finish. I did, however, walk a few hundred yards to the crest of the first hill before descending and then ascending to the finish. I regained my faculties enough by this point to cross with a clear mind and in the upright position but without an emotion in my heart or a smile on my face. My thoughts as I crossed in just over 7:52 were of my parents. I looked around in anticipation that one of them would appear out of nowhere but it wasn’t long before I realized it wasn’t going to happen. Truly I wasn’t disappointed because I know my parents. I know they were both sure I would be okay without them there and in all honesty they were right. Would I have smiled or been emotional if my dad greeted me at the finish? I don’t know for certain but what I do know is whether they were there or not both were in my heart. I didn’t have the opportunity to follow through with my plans of wrapping my finisher’s medal around my dad’s neck but there is always next year.
Dave Bursler
Bear, Delaware