The Art of Ultrarunning

"A race is a work of art that people can look at and be affected in as many ways as they're capable of understanding." - Steve Prefontaine

There's an artist in Queens named Shaun El C. Leonardo, whose work I like. His paintings, drawings and performances explore the masculine identity in his own life and his Latin culture, in many cases through sports imagery, particularly the hypermasculine (or combat) sports of wrestling, boxing, football and bullfighting. ("El C., or "El Conquistador" is his masked wrestling alter-ego.) Last September I saw him as one of 15 wrestlers in a blindfolded cage match, lasting until only one man was left. Cool as hell, by the way. Since he was set up as the hero, I was surprisingly surprised when (spoiler alert) he lost.

Fast-forward to May 2012 when I ran the 48-hour race at 3 Days at the Fair in Sussex County, NJ, trying to break the 48-hour American record I set in 2011.  After 14 hours and 100 laps of the course I suffered a mental letdown, a simple lack of motivation that's very tough to describe (and is not the point of this essay anyway), and I ended up dropping out just shy of 24 hours into the race, with less than 100 miles. I soon thought of Leonardo's wrestling match, and the theme that runs throughout his work of the defeated hero - does El Conquistador ever actually conquer? - feeling like a defeated hero myself. (I should mention of course that I don't mean hero in the literal sense of someone who sacrifices or takes significant risks for others, but more in the literary sense of the protagonist - or possibly in Leonardo's case, a more mythological sense.) I'm no art expert, and this I believe is not the main point of Leonardo's work, and running is not a hypermasculine sport anyway I wouldn't say, but it got me thinking, if he can incorporate athletic performances into his art, then why can't I incorporate art into my athletic performances?

That started me thinking about the Steve Prefontaine quote, and how I might possibly think of my own running as a work of art, and how that might influence my performance or at least enhance my personal experience. I don't strictly mean my own performances necessarily, but ultrarunning in general, all of us who undertake this activity. Just as a blindfolded cage match with 15 wrestlers might sound insane or extreme to some, so does running nonstop for 24 or 48 hours to some, or running across Death Valley in the middle of July. And for crying out loud, Pre ran 5K's! If his races were a work of art, a 24-hour race has gotta be the friggin' Sistine Chapel!

So why and how can ultrarunning be art? I don't know that it is, at least it would probably require some expansion of  many people's definition of the word art. And I'm generally not the envelope-pushing type. But if you think of art as a means of self-expression, putting yourself out there for the public to see, then just maybe it might just be something to think about. And I think ultras, especially the longer ultras of 100 miles or 24 hours or more, say a lot more about the athletes than other races do. It's beautiful to watch Tyson Gay sprint down the track, but the zombie-like shuffle of a runner in a 100-miler speaks a lot more to the soul.

And the races themselves can be performances worthy of comparison to the great symphonies or operas, even if it's not always apparent at first. Many people, even accomplished ultrarunners, can't comprehend the significance and beauty of a 24-hour race, for example. A group of runners of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds and abilities collectively running in roughly mile-long circles (usually) feeding off each other, their supporters and event staff to accomplish goals and cover distances that are unimaginable for many, all in the course of one rotation of the earth. There is a definite arc of drama when you think about the excitement of the first few hours giving way to a more relaxed pace once the energy burns off, various ups and downs, pains and aggravations, a variety of adversities through the evening and night to which some people succumb and which others overcome, relationships of various types that develop with the other runners, whether spoken or unspoken, friendly or competitive, or both, all the while feeling those legs hurting just a little more with each passing hour, feeling those hot spots develop into blisters maybe, wondering what can be done to get the most out of your body, and finally the climactic final hours when the sun comes up, and resting or struggling runners rise from the dead miraculously revived, and you push yourself to the fullest, often in that zombie-like shuffle, until the 24 hours is up. This is not National Geographic, no beautiful scenery, it's more Finnegan's Wake, and a meaningful experience within each runner which is shared with the other runners and the observers.

This is not to dismiss the scenery entirely from the conversation. A beautiful environment - a high mountain trail or a secluded forest - can be personally fulfilling in many ways, and one of the rewards of your efforts, but for the most part it's not at the heart of what the sport is about. I also don't feel that more difficult courses necessarily enhance the experience. It brings to mind my college days as a piano major. My friends and I would sometimes discuss what the most difficult piano pieces or piano composers were, as college students tend to think that sort of thing really matters. My college piano teacher, the late great Norwegian pianist Audun Ravnan, pointed out that a lot of composers are difficult only because of things like a lot of jumping around, meaninglessly fast and awkward passages, even Beethoven and Mozart have their awkward moments, while a composer like Chopin is difficult, but is beautiful and satisfying to play, because, as he said, "it fits the hand." I've been seeing more and more race descriptions where the director or runners praise the course for its difficulty, almost as if a race's value is directly proportional to the elevation change and/or the percentage of the course that's not runnable. I say that while there is definite value in tackling tough challenges, there's no value in being tough for the sake of being tough. The more important question is, does the race "fit the feet"? In this question I suppose I'm not talking so much physically, but emotionally. For all the work you put into it, what does it give back to you? I do most of my racing on the roads, which always give back to me at least the satisfying sensations of running without worrying about footing, allowing me to some degree to transcend the immediate world around me. The bigger trail races I've done, Western States, Vermont 100, and JFK, give back as well and are immensely satisfying experiences. Others are just tough and awkward.

But Badwater is Chopin. No race gives back more. It's 135 miles from the lowest elevation in the U.S. up to the side of the highest mountain in the lower 48 states. For one thing, all of recorded human history is scattered with stories of people going to the desert or the mountains to seek solitude, wisdom, retreat, enlightenment, or sometimes sent there not of their own will but still coming through the experience changed in some major way. What could be more epic than a race combining the hottest desert with the highest mountain? It is very tough. The difficulties include running over 40 miles through heat that can reach 125 degrees or more, and three relentless climbs of 5000 feet, 3500 feet and another 5000 feet to finish the race. But as with a 24-hour race, it's the shared experience that makes the impression. You and your crew and 90 others and their crews and race staff are working together, feeding off each other, making yourselves greater than the sum of your parts in order to push you across the desert and up the mountainside. It has billed itself as "The World's Toughest Footrace", which it probably isn't, but it's got to be the toughest footrace that's worth the effort, that gives back every ounce, every drop of sweat that you put into it. It's elegant and it fits the feet. That's why it's Chopin.

So I think those are a couple of ways that an ultra could be thought of as art. Maybe someone should set up some sort of art exhibit on a football field, include sculpture, performance, and whatever else captures the imagination, and include a runner running on the track around it for 24 hours. It might or might not really work, but I'd be up for it! All this of course, is in the eye of the beholder, and someone watching an ultra might not notice anything that resembled art. But if it affects the way you as a runner think about your race, it just might provide the emotional motivation you need to get you through your rough patches and get more fulfillment from your experience. I admit that I intended to run Badwater this year thinking about it as a work of art, and occasionally during the race I told myself, "This race is a work of art." But in the end, I don't think it had any effect! Oh well, just rambling words for thought. But give it a shot - be your own artist, be your own hero. I'll try again at the 24-hour world championships next month, which happens to be taking place in Poland, homeland of...Frederic Chopin.

Race Report: NYRR Team Championships

The NYRR Team Championships is a nice tradition, almost a throwback to the golden days of the NYRR. Teams earn double points for the yearlong competition, and with the postrace picnics that take place it's a good chance for runners to reconnect with each other, on their own teams and with other teams as well.

The race is a 5-mile race, separate events for men and women, and open only the NYRR members and those who are members of one of the many teams in the city (and beyond). I've been running for West Side Runners (WSX) for several years now, and we again had a very strong men's team at this event. The race was won by our own Mikael Tesfaye Kahsay in 24:30, WSX took 8 of the top 10 and 11 of the top 15! Our masters took 3rd place, but I was not among our team's scorers. Still recovering from Badwater and the BUS Pajama Romp the week before, I finished in 31:15, 209th place overall (but who's counting?).

But again, it was nice to catch up with other runners afterward. And I think this is the longest current streak I have of any race, having run it every year since 2007. I'll have to double-check that.

Race Report: BUS Pajama Romp 6-Hour

Rich Innamorato and the Broadway Ultra Society put on the Pajama Romp 6-Hour for the second straight year, on July 28 in Astoria Park. Last year's race was surprisingly well-attended, and again this year about 70 runners were expected. Mark your calendars, July 28, 2012 was the first time Richie used electronic chip timing for a BUS race!

The Pajama Romp (originally Pajama Run, but apparently someone has a trademark on that name, but I like Pajama Romp better anyway, it sounds slightly scandalous, especially since it lasts for 6 hours) is unique in that it is an evening run, going from 5:00-11:00 p.m. The course is a nice loop of about 1.27 miles in Astoria Park, looping under both the Triborough and Hell Gate Bridges, and it has a nice view of the water and Wards Island, as well as the Manhattan skyline.

I had just run Badwater 12 days before, so I was using this as a training run, a fun run, and a chance to get together with my cool running friends. I was hoping for 42-43 miles and a strong finish, but I did tire out as time wore on and I finished with about 39 miles, good enough for 4th place male, 6th overall.

Dennis Ball, who also donated the Gatorade, won the race with 45.31 miles, with Aaron Heath less than a mile behind, and Christopher McGovern got third. Jimena Sachdev repeated as women's champion from last year with 41.97 miles, Jodi Kartes-Heino was second and Elaine Acosta third.

The weather was a change from last year - instead of intense heat we had heavy rain. The rain started about 15 minutes before the race and finished shortly after the race began, but it lasted long enough to be an inconvenience. Most of the time the weather was good for running, you just had to go around one big puddle. There were some glitches with the electronic timing, which happens sometimes, but it was backed up by manual lap counting as well. All race directors who put on loop races should take a lesson from Richie on how to do manual timing!

The best part of these races is always the comeradery, hanging out with the other runners, especially at a timed race where everyone finishes at the same time. Pizza and pop were provided after the finish, and it was another excellent adventure with BUS and the New York ultrarunning community!

Race Report: Badwater Ultra

I was eagerly and optimistically awaiting the 2012 Badwater Ultra, but not from the start. I signed up hesitantly, not being sure if I'd be able to race due to personal circumstances.  But I did, and after I got accepted I still wasn't sure if I'd confirm, until Mike Arnstein enthusiastically convinced me, having gotten accepted himself. So we were sort of a team from the get-go.

The big news before the race was the mild forecast, with highs on Monday, July 16 in Death Valley predicted to be only 108 or 109. People who sign up for the Badwater Ultra, a 135-mile race starting in one of the hottest places on the planet in mid-July, continuing over three mountain ranges and finishing more than 8300 feet up the side of Mt. Whitney, sign up for the full experience, the greatest challenges, otherwise what's the point?  It can normally be 125 degrees during the race, so a high of under 110 is a real disappointment for many. My two previous races, 2009 and 2010, were pretty hot, so at least I've had that experience. This year I had a new and unexpected weather experience. Friday night before the race after I drove out to Stovepipe Wells (mile 42 on the course) with Mike and met my crew - my brother Ted, his wife Becky, and their sons Andrew, Garret and Riley - we were sitting in the saloon and saw the wind pick up a strong sandstorm. Next came the rain, and some heavy downpours! That area gets about two inches of rain a year, mostly in February, and here we just got about an inch! The storm left its mark, with dirt and gravel washed over some roads, and a big standing puddle covering the road just north of Stovepipe until well after the race passed through.

Anyway, the race. I was certainly hoping to improve on my past performances, both between 29 and 30 hours and both good for eighth place. But I didn't have the experience on the course to really judge what I might be capable of. I was hoping at least to take a little time off each leg of the course, not stop for breaks, move a little faster up the hills, keep my running pace up, and with a little luck maybe take a couple hours off my time. My crew was experienced, all five having crewed me in 2010, and Ted and Becky crewed me in 2009 as well. They were all excited to be back and so was I!

Maybe the best aspect of Badwater is seeing running friends from across the country and the world who you don't get to see very often, as well as making new friends. I was especially looking forward to seeing defending women's champion from Japan, Sumie Inagaki again. I ran with her in my first 48-hour race in Surgeres, France in 2008. She got second overall and I got third, but she broke the world record, so I can't be too disappointed. It was also nice to see some familiar faces from the New York area. Besides Mike, there was Ken Posner and his crew, Tony Portera and his crew (who I really didn't see until during the race itself), two friends who were members of Maryland runner Dave Ploskonka's crew, and Milko Mejia, who was on the crew for a 2011 top-10 runner from California, Mark Matyazac. There were also two other members of the upcoming USA 24-hour world championship team entered, Mike Morton and Harvey Lewis.

Jackie Choi and Shannon MacGregor at runner check-in

Me with Ken Posner and crew at runner check-in: me, Todd Jennings, Dennis Ball, Ken Posner, Elaine Acosta, Emmeline Posner

Oh yeah, the race. So at the 10:00 start, the weather was not too hot at all, and there was a stiff tailwind. Counting the runners ahead of me at the very start, I was in ninth place. I'd try to keep track of people passing me and me passing people, but that didn't last long. I just wanted to do better than eighth place this year! I soon caught up to Mike A. as he was on one of his regularly scheduled walking breaks and we chatted a bit. There were some runners and crews that I'd see a lot of during the race, and Mike was one of them. Everything started off smoothly, with my crew doing an excellent job. I'd forgotten to bring sponges, but a cold wet cloth worked even better to wipe my face, neck and chest, and also provided some moisture to breathe when held over my mouth.

The McCarthy crew at Stovepipe Wells: Andrew, Garret, Ted, Becky, Riley

Sumie Inagaki and me before the start

Mike Arnstein and me before the start

I got to Furnace Creek (mile 17) in 2:24, 11 minutes faster than 2010. I attributed that to the weather, but I'd take it! Continuing on without incident, I got to Stovepipe Wells (mile 42) in 6:24, still 12 minutes ahead of previous pace, but feeling much better, and not stopping as I had before. Still, I was feeling the effects of the heat, and needed to walk a bit to cool down and give myself a breather. The 16-mile, 5000-foot climb up to Towne's Pass in the face of a hot howling wind would be my first real test. I planned to employ a strategy of 10 steps running, 10 steps walking. Not too ambitious-sounding, but better than walking it all, plus it might motivate me to expand my running segments. It was doing this that I slowly came closer to Mike, who had passed me some time ago. But as I tired Mike pulled away. In a nice moment, Dean Karnazes came up from behind me and gave me some very kind words of encouragement before continuing on ahead. I'd run a number of races with Dean, but hadn't had much of a chance to chat with him. Another nice note, his pacer there was Michelle Barton, showing the high quality of crew and pacers at Badwater! So as I climbed, caught my breath, and as the weather cooled, I was eventually able to settle into a very productive pattern of 32 steps running, 16 walking, even into the strong wind. (I'm a musician, so everything I do is in groups of four.) I got to the top of Towne's Pass having passed Dean back and feeling great, knowing that I've got good strong quads to fly on the following 12-mile downhill

Night fell, and I did fly on the downhill, passing Mike and seeing the lights of Panamint Springs get closer and closer. But by the time I neared the bottom, I was again needing to catch a breather from the constant fast running, and the beating my legs were taking. Plus, my stomach was feeling a little tight, and for much of the race felt just on the verge of being queasy. So I slowed to a walk on the Panamint Valley flat (where Mike passed me back) and suffered a morale slip. Then Ted gave me an Ensure, which was not quite cold enough, and I returned the chocolate liquid to the valley floor. Having done what my stomach felt like doing for quite a while, I suddenly felt better, reenergized, and ready to take on the climb out of Panamint, having hit the time station there about 1/2 hour ahead of 2010.

This was my big leg of the whole race. In both previous runs, I walked nearly the whole climb. In 2010 I suffered from nasty blisters as well as nausea that made me take almost an hour break, and almost made me pull the plug at mile 80. This time I did my 32-16 pattern and moved well up the hill, helped a lot by my nephews Andrew and Garret who took turns pacing me. (Garret and Riley are both high school students, by the way, and top-notch athletes themselves. Andrew is a very good runner as well, and had no issues with a recent knee injury.) I soon realized that without that stiff wind from the first mountain I could run more than 32 steps at a time. This was good, because the winding roads were steeply cambered, and running the curves did much less damage to my feet than walking them. Halfway up I passed Mike again, and he said how do I do it. But he was doing it too, after all. I really did make good time with Andrew and Garret's pacing, and Becky's cheering (you'd think we were at a Nebraska game!).

On the road early in the race, Ted Philip's car in background

On the road up to Towne's Pass

Ted, Garret and Andrew, close to Lone Pine

Out of the canyon, continuing uphill toward the Darwin turnoff, I was passed by Mark Matyazac, who I'd see a lot of for the rest of the race. Sometimes I'd pass him while he was walking or resting, but he'd pass me  running and take off.  Darwin (mile 90) seemed to never come, which seemed to be the case the last two times as well. But it finally came at 17:37, or 3:37 in the morning. This was huge for me! I made that leg in just over four hours, whereas it took me almost six hours in 2010, when I reached Darwin at almost 6:00 a.m., and almost 5 a.m. in 2009. And I still felt strong! But when my crew told me my place there, I was still in eighth place! I was determined to get out of that place.

A good downhill followed when I saw Sumie close ahead of me, and I was confident that I could catch her. And to my surprise I soon cam across Marco Farinazzo, the 2009 champion, walking down the hill, and passed him! But soon enough, Mark passed me by and took off. I was thinking this could be a real close finish, with Mark, Marco, Sumie and myself all close together, with Mike possibly not too far back, plus I was still seeing Dean's crew van, and I was told that Harvey Lewis was not too far ahead. With Marco being a recent champion, you couldn't count him out of having a burst of speed after struggling a bit.

So I kept on as well as I could. It was a long, long stretch to Lone Pine as any Badwater runner will tell you. But it was much easier being there so early. For one thing, it was cooler. For another thing, it was too early for the trucks from Keeler to be out and whizzing past. The road was blessedly nearly traffic-free! I'd come close to Mark only to see him pull away again, and I eventually had to let him go. But I saw less and less of Marco's and Sumie's crew vans.

That last curve towards the Lone Pine road just would never come. I was still running most of the time, with only short walk breaks, but my running pace was pretty pedestrian. I was becoming disappointed with myself and my current pace. I was hoping to get to Lone Pine before 9:00 ("Lone Pine by 9!" became my crew's mantra), but it was looking less likely as time went on. Still, I could meet two big goals: 1. Get 7th place or higher, 2. Break 27 hours. Getting to Lone Pine by 9:00 would give me a full four hours to get up Mt. Whitney, so I did have a little cushion, having walked up it in 3:44 in 2010.

I made the right turn to Lone pine right at 9:00, and the time check in town at 9:20 (23:20 race time), and was told I was in 6th place - a nice little surprise! It's always exciting to get to Lone Pine, knowing you only have that last, killer mountain to climb. For me, normally the pressure's off actually, as there's only so much you can do to get up the steep 5000+ foot, 13-mile climb with any speed. But I would have to work to take some time off my previous climbs if I wanted to break 27 hours. I started again with my 32-16 pattern, but before long it became too steep to make any running worthwhile for me. I also had Riley or Andrew, whoever was walking with me, keep checking back for Marco. But I did keep a good brisk walking pace, compared to my more casual walking pace in past years. And it paid off - with Ted walking with me and my crew joining at the very end, I crossed the finish line in 26:52:01! This was two hours, 20 minutes better than my previous best of 29:12 in 2009. It was a very satisfying end to a good race.


At the finish, I met Harvey and Mark, who had both finished within the last hour, and who were engaged in a pretty tough battle against each other. Mike Morton had won the race, almost beating Valmir Nunes's course record, Oswaldo Lopez was second, Zach Gingerich third, then Harvey, Mark and me. I rested at the top, went to visit the nearby stream, and then had my crew take me down to town, having been told that the next finishers were a ways away yet. But I was disappointed I didn't stay a little longer, because driving down, I soon met Marco on the way up, then Dave Ploskonka, and a host of other runners on the way down, including Kirt Lindermuller, Terry Sentinella, Sumie, Dean, Jonathan Gunderson, Pam Reed (who I high-fived) and of course Mike Arnstein, who I exchanged a few words with, and who was looking good on his way to a 16th-place finish in 31:04:55.


The crew and I went to the motel and crashed. On Wednesday we would enjoy the awards and pizza party (now a lunch party with the 48-hour cutoff), and a few beers at Jake's Saloon. The other runners and crews and I exchanged stories, congratulations, and went our own separate ways. But not before I put my third Badwater finish on the wall of Jake's Saloon. If you go there, it's in the back on the left-hand side, about seven or eight feet up the wall near the little stage.


I have to give a big thanks mostly to my crew - Ted, Becky, Andrew, Garret and Riley, who all really rose to the occasion! Thanks also to Dr. Jack Mantione, my physical therapist, who helps keep me injury-free and well-aligned and tuned up. And also to the folks at Project Hospitality, a charity on Staten Island that helps the poor, the homeless, and those with HIV, and for whom I've been raising money. They do very, very good work under difficult circumstances. And of course, thanks to all those in the New York ultrarunning community, all my friends who wish me luck and give me their support. It really is great to be a part of such a wonderful community!

Dave Ploskonka and crew (Shannon, Chris, Dave, Jackie) in Lone Pine

3 Badwaters, 3 times on the wall of Jake's Saloon

Race Report: The Great New York 100 Mile Running Exposition

The runners at the start in Times Square

Elaine Acosta and pacer at the Unisphere

Keila Merino, me and Michael Samuels at the finish

Sorry about the delay in posting on my blog. But better late than never I guess. June 23 marked the running of The Great New York 100 Mile Running Exposition. I came up with the idea for this over a year ago after getting sick of people thinking the only place to run in New York is Central Park. My own long runs have taken me to the most far-flung reaches of the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn and to some extent Staten Island, so I decided to put this race together to show off the great places to run in this city. Unfortunately, there is no pedestrian access to Staten Island (except via Bayonne, NJ), but I mapped out a course around the other four boroughs that used as many parks, greenways and beaches as possible, connecting them with city streets (some quiet residential streets, some gritty industrial areas) and bridges, going over seven major bridges (and under three others). With this being my first job as race director, I wanted to keep the field small and the race low-key, so I did no promotion, charged a small entry fee and promised to provide only minimal aid stations with fluids, requiring runners to carry food, purchase it along the way, and/or have it crewed for them. This was not meant to be a highly competitive race, and with open streets it would not be a fast race. But I wanted it to be fun and exciting, so I had to had to have it start and finish in Times Square, and cover as many scenic areas as possible.

During preparations, I really gained a new appreciation for the work that race directors do. I won't bore you with the details, but I was working frantically and was quite frazzled by the time I arrived in Times Square early Saturday morning. But once the runners began arriving, I was losing the stress and was getting caught up in the excitement myself. 32 runners signed up and 31 started (one unfortunately had an injury). It was a mix of veterans and newcomers, youth and experience, even a few legends with Ray Krolewicz, Dave Luljak and Trishul Cherns signed up. Most of the runners were New Yorkers, but there were a few from Philadelphia, the Boston area, and a few from farther down the east coast. Liz Bauer flew up from Georgia to run her 18th 100 mile race of the year in her attempt at a record-breaking 30 hundreds for 2012! Somehow I felt more pressure with people traveling to the race!

During the race itself, naturally my experiences were much different from the runners'. I had tried to estimate how fast the lead runners would reach the aid stations to get them set up and staffed in time. Eliot Lee had loaded his pickup with water and with Gatorade that was donated by runner Dennis Ball, and Eliot and I would get to each aid station before the first runners. I also had to do some last-minute race-day course marking in a few spots, which caused me to do some scrambling and running. I was covered in flour after marking the trails in Van Cortlandt Park! Since at most locations we had to set up and leave in the hands of volunteers, I didn't get to see too much of the runners, except the leaders

And I apologize to the runners for not getting enough volunteers to man all the aid stations I had planned. There are definitely lessons I learned about volunteer coordination. But the volunteers we had were awesome! Some of them spent many hours waiting for runners to come through and helping them on their way. Thank goodness the weather was good! But I have to give special thanks to Eliot, to Nick Palazzo, Tim Ryan, Lucimar Araujo, (who monitored the runners on her bike throughout the race), Fong Lui, Deanna Culbreath, Lydia Redding, Reiko Cyr, Rich Innamorato, Elizabeth Hamrick, Stephanie Camora, and Susie Schmelzer for their work on the course, and for Dave Obelkevich and Donald Ying for helping out at the finish.

Speaking of which, even though it was not meant to be a competitive event, it did have quite the competitive finish! After early leaders Mike Arnstein, Dennis Ball and Dante Simone dropped out, all by the Unisphere at mile 58, Keila Merino took the lead, with Michael Samuels and Jodi Kartes-Heino chasing about 15 minutes behind. Slowly, Michael closed the gap, but Jodi couldn't keep up. By the 95-mile aid station at Brooklyn's Borough Hall, Keila came through with Michael only about a minute behind! But Keila kept her lead and crossed the finish line first in 21:05:55, with Michael in 21:09:50. Apparently, Michael had to stop for traffic at least once near the end, which slowed him down. The unpredictability of an urban adventure race! One by one, the finishers came in:

1. Keila Merino, 21:05:55

2. Michael Samuels, 21:09:50

3. Jodi Kartes-Heino, 24:35:52

4. Liz Bauer, 24:44:12

5. Milko Mejia, 24:45:25

6. Otto Lam, 24:52:20

7. Marc Vengrove, 25:08:25

8. Chris Solarz, 26:29:13

9. Becky Tsai, 26:40:40

10. Weihao Xu, 26:51:24

11. Gerald Tabios, 26:55:25

12. Rebecca Schaefer, 26:59:43

13. Emmy Stocker, 27:16:15

14. Elaine Acosta, 27:32:02

Ray Krolewicz, true to form, despite arriving more than an hour late due to car trouble on the ride up from Georgia, kept on running, despite missing aid station closings and course cutoffs, resting as he felt like it, swimming in the ocean as he felt like it, and finished unofficially in 35:35:55. Congrats to all of them, and to all the other runners who toed the line: Mike Arnstein, Paul Arroyo, Dennis Ball, Carol Buonanno, Trishul Cherns, Marco Cheung, Frank Colella, Jesse Gellor, Mat Gerowitz, Dave Luljak, Shannon MacGregor, Michael McDuffie, Jess Movold, Michael Ryan, Dante Simone and Tatsunori Suzuki. Five runners recorded their first 100-mile finish, including the two winners, as well as Gerald, Becky and Rebecca, and many of the others recorded their longest runs ever!

Thanks to everyone for their support and good spirits! It really shows the great ultrarunning community we have here in New York!

Race Report: Sybil Ludington 50K

OK, so I'm a lazy blogger. But better late than never, especially with a race the caliber of the Sybil Ludington 50K. It was held on Saturday, April 21 on a single loop road course starting and finishing in Carmel, NY. The race pays tribute to Sybil Ludington, a 16-year-old girl who rode her horse through the area, roughly the race course, warning the area colonists of approaching British troops in 1777.

The race has a long history itself, with the 2012 edition being the 34th straight running. It was only my third running, however, with a 4th and a 3rd place finish behind me. The weather looked good at the start, and we were off. I ran the first dozen or so miles in a small front pack that included Tomasz Kochanowicz, a Polish native living in North Carolina, and Scott Delongchamps. After about 13 miles, just as Tomasz was pulling away from me, Aaron Heath comes flying by as if I were standing still. I wasn't going to try to catch him, as I was running under 7:00/mile pace, about as fast as I wanted to, knowing I'd have to have something left for the upcoming hills.

And up they came. From about mile 16-26 the course makes some tough climbs, and my pace slowed. But I was still able to keep Tomasz in sight, about 100 yards ahead. Aaron was too far ahead to see. And every time I thought I was pulling closer to Tomasz, he managed to pull back ahead to keep me at bay. I knew I'd be happy with a 3rd-place finish and hoping for a course PR, but I also glanced behind me to see if anyone was catching up, especially Byron Lane, who has a habit of doing that to me! But this time he wasn't to be seen.

So that's how the race finished, with Aaron winning with a time of 3:37:25, Tomasz second with 3:40:58, and me third in 3:41:32. I was, however, disappointed to realize that it wasn't a course PR - I ran 3:39 in the cold rain of 2006! Byron finished next with 3:56:20.

For the women, Taconic RR member Emmy Stocker won on her home course with 4:52:57, followed by Barbara Sorrell and Jennifer Tibangin.

As usual, the best part is chatting with the runners before and after the race at the Carmel VFW hall. Ultrarunners are such a great community! Big thanks to David Farquhar and Tony Galfano, RD's, for their amazing work! Also to Tony Trujillo for the post-race massage, and Rich Innamorato for the ride. Those in the NYC metropolitan area who haven't run it should give it a try next year.

Race Report: BUS 6-Hour Run

Better late than never, here's my report on the BUS 6-Hour Race, held on March 31 in Crocheron Park, Queens. The race was held in conjunction with the annual New York Ultrarunning Grand Prix awards brunch (or lunch), where top local runners of 2011 are recognized.

But before the awards, there was a 6-hour race to run. The weather was cold, considering the warm late winter and spring, low 40's, some spotty rain, and fairly breezy conditions, especially on the backstretch by the gazebos. Of all the races I've run in Crocheron Park, this is the first time the start/finish has been near the tennis courts. This was done because we were given permission to use the indoor space there, which was small but very welcome, being heated!

Oh yeah, the race. I came in hoping for a PR (currently about 47.6 miles), and hoping for an outside shot at 50 miles, and I started out aggressively on about a 50-mile pace. Tommy Pyon still ran ahead of me, but I fell into second place behind him. I ran a while even with Aaron Heath (who beat me at the 6-Hour Birthday Run last October), but I pulled ahead of him eventually. I was able to keep on the same fast pace for about the first half before slowing down. And as I slowed, Byron Lane eventually caught up with me, and we ran together for a couple of laps before he pulled ahead. Eventually Aaron passed me as well, and Tommy lapped me a couple of times. My energy was lapsing, but I still finished with a good total of 45+ miles and 4th place. Tommy, Aaron and Byron were 1st, 2nd and 3rd. For the women, Jodi Kartes-Heino won in a close race with Shannon McGinn, who was really pouring it on at the end.

But this was my first race of any distance this year, so it was good to be back out there, chatting with friends, and taking a stroll through my home away from home (away from home), Crocheron Park.

At the Grand Prix awards lunch, I also was blessed with the 2011 Grand Prix Championship, my third time winning the award. Jodi took home the women's honors.