Runner’s World recently posted some Dean Karnazes quotes, in a playful homage to Sh*t My Dad Says (which is an excellent addition to any toiletside library, by the way). These quotes come out of RUN! 26.2 Stories of Blisters and Bliss, Dean’s most recent book. Going by the excerpts, this books lacks a bit of the profundity of Ultramarathon Man. A few quotes, however, stood out to me.

“We runners don’t need a lot. It is not what we have but what we enjoy that constitutes our abundance.”

This is absolutely beautiful. Running won’t make you rich, and it probably won’t make you famous. Luckily, we don’t run for those. We run for satisfaction (that is, those who aren’t running to stay skinny).

“Never, under any circumstances, argue with a woman. She is always right.”

Amen.

“Returning from my daily run the other morning, I came upon my neighbor, out in his slippers collecting the morning paper. He looked at me in my running gear and asked, ‘Doesn’t running hurt?’ I thought about his question. ‘It does if you’re doing it right,’ I said.”

I mentioned before the runners who run to stay skinny. There’s nothing wrong with that, nor with the fair weather joggers. I respect anyone who makes sacrifices for their health. But jogging in the sun doesn’t HURT. It doesn’t bring the kind of pain that comes with racing or ultramarathon distances. And I think that it’s this pain, this deprivation, that leads to real growth. And that is how you know you’re doing it right.

Why do I smell so bad?

If you’re a long-distance runner, you’ve probably asked yourself this question. Perhaps you’ve been asked by loved ones; my own darling is uncharacteristically indelicate when it comes to my musk after a long run.

I say long run because I’m not talking about the normal sweaty body smell that I have after 5 miles. I’m talking about the stench that I have after 20 miles in the sun. It’s entirely different from normal sweat. It’s like I’ve been bathing in vodka, like my sweat will kill bacteria and remove stubborn grass stains.

I never thought much of it. This is what my body does when it’s been pushed to the limit. It wasn’t until I came across this article on Kevin Sayer’s site that I found out that this is an indicator of something unusual.

When we go on long (long, long) runs, we deplete the glycogen stores in our livers. Dehydration, excessive strain, and low carb intake speed up this process. Eventually the body no longer can rely on carbohydrates for energy, so it turns to the fat we’ve built up. This state is called ketosis. Ketones are produced as a waste product of fat-burning, and this acid starts to pollute your blood. It’s not dangerous (see here) until the ketone levels get too high, when their acidity can damage organs. Even a slightly elevated level of ketone, however, can cause muscle damage (Eades). It’s one of the reasons why elite runners tend to be disgustingly skinny.

Exhibit A: Paul Amey, kickass triathlete

If there’s a lesson in this, it’s to eat your GU– and please, never run long mileage on a low-carb diet. Americans have developed the idea that carbohydrates are bad and fat must be lost. But runners particularly need slow-burning carbs, and plenty of them, if they want to recover quickly and minimize muscle loss.

And not stink. That too.

A short while ago, I mentioned a realization I had at some point during the 50-miler. I say “at some point” because the events thereof have merged together in my mind; I can only remember bits and pieces and the overall gist of the experience. Grinding pain takes its toll on the memory. Anyway, at some point during the race, I realized that I am capable of the 100.

Before my first ultra, 50 miles seemed nearly impossible. It was close to twice the longest I had ever run. Now the 100-miler has that honor. It’s twice the longest distance I’ve ever run. It seems nearly impossible.

But during my ultra, I discovered that the 100-mile is within my reach. It will require specialized training, eating, and everything else, but my body is capable of running 100 miles. I don’t plan on doing this next week; in fact, it may be a couple years before I attempt it. But the 50-miler put it into perspective; it shattered the ceiling of my limits, and replaced it with one far higher.

This, in a nutshell, is why I run.

As part of trend that I hope to see grow, I’ve decided to provide you, my readers, with pictures from the ultra. Because every internet surfer loves pictures– even the semi-literate ones.

Here I am right before starting the race. Just look at the optimism and faith in my eyes. That’ll change.

After 2 laps (about 17 miles in):

Some of my pacers:

Coming in on lap 3:

After completing the race. My optimism has been replaced with endorphins… look at the dopey smile. I look little the worse for wear, however:

The ultramarathon lived up to every expectation.

The ultramarathon was painful. Not at first; I ran at a roughly ten-minute-mile pace, which felt quite pleasant for the first 35 miles (is this what recreational running feels like?). The last 12 miles of the race were rough. The last 6 were agony. I shuffled through them on the wooden pegs that had replaced my legs. My feet flopped on the asphalt, slack after pounding so long on city sidewalks. This was not the searing pain that comes from outrunning others; this was the crushing, obliviating pain that comes from outrunning my own weakness.

The ultramarathon was fun. I was expecting three of my teammates to show their support on the sidelines. Instead I had six teammates running alongside me as pacers. They ran in two shifts of three pacers, completing a lap per shift (with a “lap” being 8.4 miles). For the last two laps of the race, I had my fiance, my big brother, and a friend from home, all running along beside me. They ran about 17 miles (A PR for my fiance– yay!) alongside me. Between all of my supporters, I spent very little time alone on my ten hour run. Their antics kept me fresh through the beginning of the race, and their presence bolstered my resolve on the last lap. They were fun to run with and play around between laps.

The ultramarathon left me shattered. After the race, my body was frozen in a running position. I couldn’t bend enough to stretch, even though I knew I’d pay for that inability later on. The next morning, muscle fatigue set in, leaving my muscles all the flexibility of petrified wood. Every move hurt in my back and shoulders, and my legs… well, I didn’t move those too much. I should, however, say that things would probably have been much worse if not for a certain darling mother’s early-morning 7-11 trip, which made an ice bath possible and thereby sped my recovery. Between that and the daily walks, my legs have gotten to the point where they can support me through a brief jog.

I had expected an extreme test of my focus, my fitness, my will. In that way, too, the 50-miler satisfied. The results of my trial, however, were surprising. I’ve realized something, something that will take more time, (and a whole ‘nother post) to describe.