"You're walking like a sixty-five-year-old man," Karen said, as I shuffled my way from the car toward the entrance to the convenience store, at a stop we made on the second leg of our drive home the morning after I finished my fourth "3 Days at the Fair."
"Not bad," I thought. "I'm sixty-two."
It's been an in-joke between us for a very long time now. The first time I did an ultramarathon distance (barely - in a self-supported trail run) she told me the following day that I walked like a ninety-year-old man - and ever since then we've used her assessment of my post-race apparent walking age as a measure of how well I'd done preparing for whatever stupid life choice I'd just made. With the combination of aging and additional training and racing, I've managed to narrow the gap from forty-one years to only three!
I've fallen out of the habit of writing the kind of exhaustive race reports I used to do after every ultramarathon. I used to write them primarily as a way of mentally processing the experience and also recording it, perhaps to look back on one day when I can no longer do these things. Others have found them useful though, sometimes as tools to research races they might want to run, sometimes to glean tips on what to do or not to do in their own races, and sometimes as just good stories (at least some have said). A recent thread on the ultra list included some nostalgia for the days when race reports were commonly posted - so I thought I would write one and set myself the challenge of staying under the list's five-hundred line limit for posts. With this introduction I've now made that challenge even harder.
So what should I say about running my third 72-hour at the Fair? I ran it the first time nine years ago, in 2014, returned again in 2015, then took a hiatus in 2016 because I was totally focused on my A-race, the Laurel Highlands 70M, a few weeks later that year. In 2017 I went back to the Fair to run in the inaugural 144-hour, but life was getting in the way, as Karen had been very ill for over eight months prior, so there had been no serious training, and my first and only 144-hour was not a pleasant experience.
Really, life getting in the way could be the theme here. Later in 2017, I lost both my father and a dear friend, mentor, and father figure in ultrarunning. All of the turmoil had me rethinking a lot of things, especially the time I was spending on this bizarre thing we ultrarunners do. 2018 was the first year since I'd started (in 2011) that I didn't run a race. I actually did not run an ultra from November of 2017 until September of 2019, when I made a return to run my fourth ARFTA. I still wasn't sure I really wanted to stay in the sport, really considered the possibility that race could be the end for me, and even made peace with that idea mentally. I would have been happy to end it there. Instead I rediscovered my joy.
We all know what happened to the world in 2020 and 2021. Personally, I also moved in 2021, back to my hometown in southwestern Pennsylvania, to be near my aging mother - work-from-home as a way to make that possible being the one good thing to come of the pandemic for Karen and me. I did start Vol State in 2021, with Kim (my daughter - 'McHenri the Younger') but we DNF'd at 125 miles. The rest of that time was virtual racing (which I enjoyed).
What's all this got to do with 3 Days at the Fair? Well if you haven't been counting, all of that added up to it having been six years since I'd been there, all because of life getting in the way. What is it they say? "Life is what happens to you when you're not paying attention" - or something like that. Well, I was most interested in seeing old friends and acquaintances, and as it turns out life had been happening to them, too: illnesses, surgeries and travel bans kept many away, or kept them from doing all they would have wished. Simple age and mileage slowed others down. Others were simply missing, the reasons not known to me.
I'm very hesitant to name names, in fear of shortchanging anyone, but I was so happy to share a few miles with Gary Ferguson, Kevin Flood, Bill Gentry, Fran Libasci, and Newton Baker; to share some briefer moments with Paul Heckert and Clifford Lange (coming away again with a tinge of remorse that I couldn't bring myself to slow down to their pace for just one lap) and with Pablo Espinoza as he lapped me (and I couldn't bring myself to go faster); to experience the genuine warmth of renewed acquaintance with Robert Kootz, with Beth Pretti (and to meet her husband, Scott) and a few others, to share a beer at the finish with my good and ever-generous friend Tim Hardy (it was Tim's beer I 'shared'); to see Fred Murolo out on the course in 'that shirt' again; to catch up with Bob Lantz, who blessed me with a copy of his autobiography; and, finally, to feel again the 'vibe' of the Fair - the super-efficient McNulty machine churning out more calories than I can imagine and doing their best to accommodate the needs of every runner; all of the other characters - new and old - that people the fairgrounds for multiple days; and the mile itself - every turn, every little hill, every easy down-grade, every crack in the pavement - and the Mickey Mouse tar blob. I've circled it now 741 times - and I am a slacker.
Lifetime mileage awards are a thing at the Fair, and as the years have gone on, they've had to keep coming up with new ones. At 1500 miles you receive a paving brick matching the surface at the aid station - with your name engraved into it - and you must carry it around the course, on your 'brick lap.' I had seen the first one, when lifetime mileage leader Gary Ferguson had been awarded his, and I had missed many in the intervening years. This year I was privileged to be on-hand at the right times to accompany my friends Kevin Flood and Chris Battaglia on theirs.
I was privileged, too, to see the great Trishul Cherns set what should be a new 65-69 age group record in the 144-hour, with an outstanding 421 miles, bettering previous record holder Brad Compton's 411 by ten miles. And Trishul is always ready with a smile and some interesting conversation while he's doing these things. As Kevin reminded me at one point, in what other sport can mere mortal amateurs such as him and me sign up and 'compete' with some of its greatest athletes?
This year was special, too, because Younger was there. Kim had always been skeptical of my love for loops. I don't know yet how she feels now that she's done 124 of them herself, but I'm willing to bet those feelings are different - one way or another. As always, it was a great joy and privilege to watch one of my own work through the highs and lows, and accomplish more than she thought she could.
And me? It felt very different for me this time. I always mean to be more sociable at these things, but I tend to get kind of serious and focused once I get into it. This time I really did achieve a better balance. I also 'took it easy' on myself, with more regular rest breaks, and more attention to eating a little something more frequently. The whole thing seemed a lot more casual, yet somehow I managed 164 miles, placing me fifth among thirty-two males, and ninth out of fifty-seven overall in the 72-hour.
Just as I had in my prior 72-hours, I broke out Wilson (my bouncing tennis ball) and pounded out a solid half-marathon in the final hours of the race to finish strong and use as much of the time as possible. It feels glorious to lay it all out there like that at the end.
Not too bad for a sixty-two-year-old man, I think. I'm amazingly blessed to still be able to do this.
Now I'm only 259 miles away from the 1000 lifetime miles coin. That's out of reach for me in another 72-hour, but in 144...
Too early to think about that. I think I'll wait until my feet are no longer large water balloons.
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