50/50 (11 page)
Happily, Women High On Running is not a complete anomaly. Groups like it across the country deserve a lot of credit for transforming running from a boys’ club into an almost perfectly gender-balanced sport within the past thirty-five years. When I was a young kid growing up in the late 1960s, women simply didn’t run marathons. They weren’t even allowed to. Then Kathrine Switzer shook free of the grasp of race official Jock Semple to finish the Boston Marathon in 1967, and after that, things began to change. In 2006, for the first time in history, more women than men completed marathons in the United States.
As Leah suggested to me, there are differences in the ways and reasons men and women typically get hooked on running. Men are more likely to start running after a scary doctor’s appointment, buy a book on training, and take it from there. Women are more likely to get coaxed into joining a running group by friends. Initially, it’s about the fellowship, not the running. But the next thing they know, they’re running marathons.
There also seem to be some gender differences in the emotional rewards of running. Our society is tougher on the self-esteem of females than males, and I believe that running is the perfect self-esteem builder for girls and women. I serve on the board of Girls on the Run, a national organization aimed at developing self-esteem and camaraderie in young girls, and it really works. (Interestingly, the same organization tried to create a brother group, Boys on the Run, and it
didn’t
work.) Alexandria participated in this program when she was younger, and it was one of the most fulfilling experiences of her life. I always tell her that women can do anything men can do, often better. I mean those words.
Granted, in many sports men have a decided advantage over women, but in distance running, and particularly ultradistance running, the gap is so small that it’s almost invisible. It is not unheard of for a woman to be the outright winner of a fifty- or one-hundred-mile running race. For example, in 2003 Pam Reed claimed overall victory in the toughest ultramarathon of them all, Badwater, finishing fifteen minutes ahead of—me.
My friends had a field day with that one, which was only to be expected, but what surprised me was that the media did too. They tried to manufacture some big rivalry between Pam and me. Well, there
is
a rivalry, but it’s no different from my friendly rivalry with any male competitor. Yet the press tried to paint me as a chauvinistic ogre who loses sleep for weeks after losing to a woman.
Pam and I have had the last laugh, however. Whenever I see her at an event, we trade insults and talk smack, ridiculing the notion that we hate each other by acting as though we do. In fact, I saw Pam twice during the Endurance 50—in Boulder, Colorado (where she finished fourteen seconds ahead of me—argh!), and again in Green Bay, Wisconsin. And what did we do both times? We went running together, just like anyone else.
Day 12
September 28, 2006
Montana Marathon
Billings, Montana
Elevation: 3,648'
Weather: 71 degrees; clear
Time: 3:56:44
Net calories burned: 38,244
Number of runners: 14
We arrived in Billings the evening before the Montana Marathon. My mom and dad, Alexandria, Nicholas, and I were walking along the quiet streets of downtown after most of the local businesses had closed, looking through the windows of Western-wear shops, when we rounded the corner and came upon a bustling Greek restaurant, of all things. We walked in the door automatically, without a word of discussion. The scents and commotion naturally drew us in.
The scene inside was chaotic, which is typical of Greek restaurants. The waitress had a million orders going at once and was constantly yelling back at the cooks in Greek. When our food finally arrived, it was gloriously prepared, authentically home-style Greek fare, fresh and exquisitely flavorful. There was tiropitakia (cheese pastries), dolmas (stuffed grape leaves), moussaka, octopus, lots of fresh vegetables, and, of course, homemade baklava for dessert.
My parents and I wondered aloud how they were able to get all the fresh, specialized Greek ingredients to prepare such a tasty meal all the way out here in Billings, Montana—not exactly a hotbed of Greek American culture. Nonetheless, we were certainly glad they could!
QUICK TAKE:
Greeks use lots of cinnamon and spices in their recipes. Cinnamon has been shown to improve insulin sensitivity. Keep a shaker handy and sprinkle liberally on the foods you eat.
Day 13
September 29, 2006
City of Trees Marathon
Boise, Idaho
Elevation: 2,659'
Weather: 75 degrees; clear
Time: 4:08:51
Net calories burned: 41,431
Number of runners: 18
The North Face Endurance 50 was a completely male phenomenon through its first twelve days. But on Day 13 the testosterone was tempered; we got a woman’s touch. It was a little awkward at first, but in the long run our endeavor was greatly strengthened by it, much as the sport of running as a whole has been energized, balanced, and enlivened by its recent feminization. I would say the same holds true in business and, dare I say, politics.
It happened after the Montana Marathon on Day 12. On the long drive from Billings to Boise, Idaho, Hopps pulled me aside. “Karno, we need to talk,” he said.
“Sure, Hopps, what’s up?” I detected a note of seriousness in his tone.
“Dave is no longer with us.”
“No longer with us? Is he dead?” I tried to joke. Dave had mysteriously vanished while I was running the Montana Marathon, and now he wasn’t on the bus.
“It just wasn’t working out,” Hopps said. “I think he’s actually relieved. I’m not sure he ever felt comfortable in his role.”
“So what are we going to do now? Don’t we need a tour manager?” I asked.
“We’ve hired a replacement. Her name’s Robin Culver. She’s a close friend of mine.”
“Is she good?”
“The best there is.”
“Okay, Hopps, I trust you,” I said. There was a moment’s pause. “Does she know she’ll be the only woman aboard?”
“Oh, man! That didn’t even cross my mind. I never mentioned it to her.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “I guess we’ll find out just how good she is at dealing with the unexpected in a hurry.”
I met Robin the following morning, before the City of Trees Marathon in Boise, Idaho. The context was a round-table meeting of the entire Endurance 50 crew on the tour bus. We’d never had round-table meetings before. That was the first change.
Robin had the energy of a supernova packed into her muscular body. She talked faster than my ears could listen, had multiple lists going on several notepads concurrently, and even typed on her laptop as she asked questions. And boy did she ask questions. She had so many questions that she sometimes interrupted herself to ask a second question if the first one didn’t come out quickly enough.
She wanted to know all about my routine. “So after the marathons, are you getting rubdowns and massages?” she asked.
“I’d like to,” I said, “but there’s just no time. I tried to talk Koop into doing it on the bus, but I couldn’t get any lovin’ out of the man.”
It was a cheeky answer, but I sensed already that Robin knew how to be one of the guys even as she brought a distinctly female influence to the team. And I liked the fact that she listened so keenly. It was clear she had no intention of forcing any preconceived ideas or favored methods on our operation, but would instead work with what we had to achieve our goals. Robin was sure to lead changes in how the Endurance 50 functioned, and I couldn’t wait to see their impact.
For Women Only
Some women prefer not to exercise in the company of sweaty men—at least not all the time—hence the success of the Curves fitness center franchise. If you’re one of these women, you might want to try a women’s marathon. There are a couple of them in the United States. The Nike Women’s Marathon takes place in San Francisco in October, and the More Marathon, for women over age forty, takes place in New York City in March.
As I formed my first impression of Robin in this meeting, I found myself thinking back to my days as a windsurfing instructor in college. While working in this capacity, I was surprised to observe that women typically gained competence on the board faster than men did, despite typically having less raw muscle power. The reason, I discerned eventually, was that men tried to outmuscle the wind—a hopeless impossibility for even the strongest—whereas women allowed the wind to guide them, relying on balance instead of brawn.
The City of Trees Marathon in Boise, Idaho, our thirteenth marathon and Robin’s first, went incredibly smoothly. It was remarkable; everything flowed perfectly. Was it Robin’s influence, a woman’s touch, that made the difference? Could it last? I certainly hoped so.
Fun Runs
Day 14
September 30, 2006
Seafair Marathon
Seattle, Washington
Elevation: 50'
Weather: 58 degrees; overcast
Time: 4:07:52
Net calories burned: 44,618
Number of runners: 48
R
unning is not fun.
It’s too hard to be fun. Even the most devoted runners would not describe the experience of performing a typical workout—let alone competing in a race—as
fun
. I love running as much as anyone on earth, but I am no more inclined to describe the running experience as “fun” than any other runner, unless I’m with other people, in which case the fun isn’t about the running, but the people.
I’m not saying that running doesn’t feel good. It
does
feel good, in the way that any form of hard work feels good to those who have a taste for it. Running feels good to me the way writing feels good to a writer and operating feels good to a surgeon. A skilled surgeon does not smile his way through a tricky operation. He knits his brows, grunts terse instructions, and is exhausted afterward. Likewise, even the most passionate writer dreads sitting down in front of a blank computer screen some days. But a skilled surgeon wouldn’t trade his post-operative exhaustion for anything, nor would any passionate writer give up her dread of the blank screen, because the surgeon
is
a surgeon, and the writer’s a writer. As challenging as it is, the overall operating experience just feels right to the surgeon—like an expression of who he really is. And the writer feels the same way about writing.
And runners feel the same way about running. A hard run leaves you exhausted and glad to be done with it. Some days you dread even starting a run. But the overall running experience just feels right, like an expression of who you really are.
When I was in college, a world-renowned psychologist named Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (pronounced
me-hi chick-sent-me-hi
) from Claremont Graduate College visited a class I was taking and talked about a theory called flow, which he had developed. Flow, he said, is a state of total absorption in a challenging activity—an enjoyable but serious state of absolute immersion in some goal-directed task. It’s usually experienced when you’re testing your limits in a favorite skill, which could be anything—delivering a speech, making a sales pitch, playing a video game, cooking, you name it. Flow is what athletes are referring to when they talk about being in the zone. It’s somewhat different from fun, in most cases, because it entails hard work. In lots of ways, it’s better than fun.
At the time I heard this lecture, I wasn’t running, but this concept of flow resonated with my experiences in other activities, such as surfing. When I started running several years later, I began to experience flow at a whole new level, however. Surfing felt great, but it was also fun. Running was not fun, yet on my best days, it felt perfect.
A Mug of Stamina
Caffeine has been shown to enhance running performance. It does so partly by stimulating the central nervous system in ways that make exercise feel easier. A cup of joe allows an athlete to run harder with equal effort. Careful, though. Caffeine is a diuretic and can cause dehydration.
One of these days was the day I ran the 2006 Vermont Trail 100. Everything about it was wrong. I flew in from California the day before and was already fatigued and jet-lagged from the trip when the starting gun went off. The weather was hot and humid, the trail a muddy stew from recent rain. Horseflies ate me alive the whole way through. I should have had a terrible day, but instead it was magical. My body felt infused with superhuman endurance. One hundred miles was not far enough. I wanted to continue around the entire earth. After ninety miles of running I actually increased my pace, because I had so much left in the tank. I made a wrong turn and had to backtrack at one point, which is usually a spirit-killing disaster in an ultramarathon, but I couldn’t have cared less. I won the race by nearly half an hour. I had won other grueling competitions before, but never with such an effortless feeling.
Running teaches you that there’s a difference between working hard and feeling bad. Consumer culture tries to teach us otherwise. How many television commercials talk about “making life easier”? If everything you knew about life came from TV, your goal would be to live the easiest, most comfortable and unchallenging life you possibly could. You would believe that the only good feelings are sensual pleasures such as the taste of a good soft drink and the fun of driving an expensive car and lying on the beach.
But it’s just not true. Challenging and testing your mind and body, even to the point of exhaustion, failure, and breakdown, can feel as wonderful as anything else life has to offer. I suppose the enjoyment of hard work is more of an acquired taste than the taste for pleasure and fun, but once you’ve acquired it, you’re blessed with more ways to feel good, and life is better. Harder
and
better.