How do I look?

In 1972 when I ran one lonely mile in the dark most every morning, it didn’t really matter how I looked. As a matter of fact, 42 years later, in 2014, it still doesn’t matter much to me. But the way most runners look when they run has changed a whole lot over time.

           

I ran my first race in tennis shoes and my first marathon in a pair of tight-fitting polyester shorts that zipped up the front and had a big pocket. No doubt my feet were better off when I bought a pair of ‘’real’’ running shoes, but the bottom half of me did just as well in a pair of ordinary shorts as it does today in high tech capri tights.

           

The more the years accumulate, the less I seem to care about how I look when I run. In fact, I find it fun to look a little goofy. I recently ended up with a pair of big, round, very red sunglasses. I love them because they fit well. I have a very small head and most sunglasses end up sliding down my nose.

           

I’ve been told that these red sunglasses are bad news. My daughter says they don’t match anything I wear and she insists that they make me look silly. I’ve decided to take advantage of this assessment and wear them every time I run. I also make a concerted effort to speak to every runner I pass, wishing them good morning, or whatever is appropriate, and watching to see if they reply, and if they smile.

One of my best running buddies (She shall remain unnamed.) likes to match, right down to her socks.  I make a conscious effort not to match. I don’t have to think much about what I put on, and she gets to, well, look all matched up.

           

One of the things I like about running is that, when you get right down to it, all you really need is a good pair of shoes. However, these days it is possible to arrive at the start of a race decked out in your pink compression leg sleeves, Nike Pro combat compression tights, plus, if you are a woman, in a skinny little black running dress. Beneath it all you could be wearing under armour panties and a shock absorber bra. If you have to ask what this kind getup will cost you, then you don’t really need any of it.

           

Comfort counts most. Make sure your shoes fit well and the laces stay tied, even if you have to tie double knots.  Replace your shoes when they break down to avoid injury. Wear socks that are thick enough to provide some padding. Make sure shorts or tights don’t rub in the wrong places, and layer shirts to be prepared for changing weather. A hat or visor makes sense for protection from high-altitude sunshine. Wimps like me usually start out with gloves in cool weather, and shed them after a mile or so. At the very least they come in handy for wiping a drippy nose.

           

And don’t forget to wear your goofy glasses.

            

Felix Wong: living his dream

Two years ago Felix Wong ran the Davy Crockett Marathon in Crockett, Texas, on a Saturday. His time of 3 hours and 12 minutes was good enough for first place. The next day he ran another 26.2 miles in the Big D Marathon in Dallas in 4:40—not good enough to win.  But he had such a good time that last September he decided to do another back-to-back marathon weekend.

            “I hadn’t done a marathon in 18 months and I hadn’t averaged more than 30 miles of training a week, but here was an opportunity too good to pass up,” Wong insists. He’s working on running a marathon in all 50 states and here were two, in two different states, on two consecutive days. He finished 18^th overall in Bismarck, North Dakota, then jumped into his car and drove to Billings, Montana to compete in the Montana Marathon the following day.

            He drove alone, immersing himself in the study of Mandarin on a CD, and enjoying the great scenery.  “No distractions,” he says. “I’m brushing up on my French so I spent some time on it as well.” He’d planned to camp out on his trip but work deadlines forced him into more traditional lodging.

            Who is this guy, and what makes him tick?

            Born of parents who grew up in China and emigrated to Canada before moving to the U.S, Felix grew up the second of three brothers in rural Southern  California. His world opened up when he bought a bike for $5 at a garage sale and discovered the freedom to go.  He borrowed a “better bike” to do his first century ride as a senior in high school, an experience that made him more than a little saddle sore and cemented a lifetime commitment to long distance exercise.

            A degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford led to a stint in the semiconductor industry, and seven years ago to relocation to Fort Collins, Colorado where he consults and has time to indulge his love of  outdoor sports and travel. He chose his new home carefully, researching scores of towns in 19 states and Canada until he found the one that matched up with his list of qualifications.

            The hardest thing he’s ever done? The Tour Divide bicycle ride from Canada to Mexico, 2,700 miles in 27 days including encounters with wipeouts, wrong turns, and starvation. At one point he found himself so desperate for food that he flagged down a car. The Pepsi and half a hamburger he was given lasted him until another traveler took him home for dinner. The following day he subsisted on tortillas, soup and peanuts before he found a town with a grocery store. “I learned to be better prepared,” he said.

            Wong has completed three dozen marathons, two hundred-mile runs and countless shorter runs and long distance bike rides. He returns to California several times a year to visit family and touch base with a major client. He never regrets the time and effort he invested in escaping the California rat race and choosing Fort Collins as his home.

            To enjoy Wong’s delightful descriptions of his adventures go to Felixwong.com.

            

Race Across the Sky--Leadville 100 Trail Run

So many stories.

            Every one of the 798 starters at the 30^th running of the Leadville Trail 100 Race Across the Sky on August 18 has one to tell. And so do the hundreds of race organizers, volunteers, and crew members needed to make it happen.

            Of those who tackled the unforgiving monster at 4 a.m. on Saturday morning—a course that traverses 50 miles of high altitude Rocky Mountain terrain and then asks you to turn right around and do it again— 360 made it within the 30-hour time limit.            

            Those of us who haven’t run this race can’t know how they really felt—in their bodies and in their heads and hearts. But it was a privilege to be there, to be allowed a tiny peek into these ordinary people doing an extraordinary thing.

            The finishers ranged in age from 19 to 60-something. Fifty-five were women. They came from 18 countries and 41 states, and they brought with them their spouses, parents, children, dogs, friends, and gear—from special food and drink to clothing for all kinds of weather, hiking poles to navigate the tough terrain, and Tylenol to ease the pain.

            As a group they represent the epitome in athleticism, discipline, willingness to hurt, love of challenge, and fierce determination. As individuals they come alive in their diversity.

            Robert the young “fruitarian” from Tennessee with a carful of hundreds of apples and bananas who swore his new-found diet cured the pain in his knee.

            Chris from Maryland, who hadn’t a clue about altitude, paced by his 16-year-old son and supported by Karen, his wife. “We like to share each other’s dreams.”

            Three Fort Collins runners made the cut. Doug Nash completed his fourth LT (Leadville Trail)100 in 29 hours 25 minutes, supported by his wife, Marji, experienced crew manager, who made the complex route-finding, parking, re-supplying with food, drink and clothing job look simple.

            Nick Clark, third overall in 17 hours 11 minutes, explained the challenge of consuming enough calories to maintain energy while running uphill at altitude and not choking or throwing up.  Alex May came in at 29 hours 42 minutes.

             Starting on the return trip from Winfield at the 50-mile mark , runners are allowed a pacer to run beside them and provide moral support, carry a water bottle, and during the night, provide extra light and watch for obstacles in the trail. A few go it alone, but most welcome the company, and pacers get a taste of what it’s like out on the trail. When their 10 or so miles are done, they wave their runner on, ,thankful to be finished with their part.

            For most, the sun had risen again by the time they caught sight of the relentless clock at the finish line.  And most walked toward it, some more gimpy than others, accompanied by their pacers, friends and family who had lived through their runner’s experience on the sidelines.

            At the awards ceremony every finisher got called up individually to receive the coveted silver and gold belt buckle. Like graduations, it takes a while, but like graduations, it ranks right up there with life’s memorable moments.

Is this the athlete?

“Is this the athlete?” the doctor at a Denver hospital asked when Zach Scott arrived by ambulance for open heart surgery this spring. Zach, 21, has severe cerebral palsy and neither walks nor talks, but thanks to Dennis Vanderheiden and Athletes in Tandem, the non-profit he founded, Zach is indeed an athlete. He’s done more than a dozen running races and several triathlons since 2008 when he and his family met Vanderheiden at the finish line of the Horsetooth Half  Marathon. They finished before Vanderheiden did.

            “Wow. You did super well.”

            “We started 90 minutes before you,” Sandy Scott admitted, exhausted from pushing Zach’s running stroller 13.1 hilly miles.

            On that day a relationship began that continues to grow in mutual trust and admiration. Vanderheiden had recently returned from Louisville, Kentucky where he’d completed an Ironman.  Beyond tired and delighted to be at the end of his 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and 26.6-mile run, Vanderheiden had an epiphany.

            He knew that day that he wanted to follow in the footsteps of Dick Hoyt who for years has pulled, pushed and pedaled his disabled son through the grueling Ironman in Kona, Hawaii. Vanderheiden was through chasing personal bests. Instead, he realized, his satisfaction came not from a fast finish, but from experiencing the joy of others. He’d never be through with training, competing, and challenging himself, but his purpose became different.

            “I don’t experience the euphoria some people do at the end of an event. It’s the journey I love,” Vanderheiden explains. And he knew that journey would be enhanced if he could share it with someone unable to do it on their own.

            Back in Fort Collins, he went about founding Athletes in Tandem to provide mentally and physically challenged people of all ages an opportunity to participate in triathlons and running races.  He wasn’t sure where to start, but he knew he needed to find willing disabled and non-disabled athletes and obtain the equipment  necessary to make it possible to swim, bike, and run in tandem.

            Zach Scott and his family became the catalyst. They trusted Vanderheiden enough to send Zach off to the Boulder Sprint Triathlon in the fall of 2008. “We had problems with the bike tipping backward so we skipped that segment of the event, but it didn’t matter,” Vanderheiden says. Thus began a partnership between the two that has grown to include Susan Strong who has also formed a bond racing with Zach.  Last month, recovered from his surgery, Zach’s doctors cleared him to race again.

            There’s a story behind each athlete, from the nine-year-old to the 86 year-old who have participated in Athletes in Tandem. Many cannot speak, but sounds and gestures express their elation at feeling the wind in their hair, cool water on their bodies, and camaraderie and kudos from their fellow athletes.  And when they return to compete in another event, it’s because they want that thrill again.

            Vanderheiden says it’s about helping disabled athletes enjoy the stimulation of movement , and feeling their joy as well as your own in their accomplishments.

            I  agree. I was privileged to push 7-year-old Logan in the Firekraker Five inCity Park, Fort Collins, this year.

           

            

Thanks for having me.

“Thanks for having me” is a phrase that has been in my head for a long time, begging for a story to accompany it. As a National Public Radio addict, I hear it again and again when guests are interviewed. No matter who they are, almost without exception, when they have finished speaking, they respond to their interviewer with those few simple words.

On April 19, those words took on a whole new level of meaning for me. I had such a good time being inducted into the Colorado Running Hall of Fame. I wanted to thank everyone … to the Hall of Fame for having me … to Alan Lind, an old friend, who I know had a big role in this … to the people who interviewed me … to those who sent cards and brought gifts … to my children, who gathered from all over … to my cousins who came from the UK … and to my feet, for holding out long enough for me to receive this incredible honor.

It didn’t start out as a very big deal. At least I didn’t think so. On a Wednesday afternoon in early February, I got a phone call from Maureen Roben, whom I remembered as an outstanding runner from the days when I did the Denver Marathon. She asked if I would like to be inducted. Despite my surprise, that was an easy question to answer.

Not so easy to answer was why in the world this organization had chosen to honor me for something I love to do. I’d been running for 40 years, and over time I’d had my share of age-group wins and, in the past few years, some age group records. They must be into persistence, I reasoned. No matter. I was thrilled.

Maureen explained that tables at the Denver Athletic Club seated 10 and I could invite nine people to join me. The first thing I did was send my four kids an email, figuring that the two who live close by would join me with their spouses. I invited a couple of running friends. I figured the grandkids would not be interested.

Little did I know how this thing would grow. Before I knew it, my daughters were making decisions. They assured me the boys, who live in Florida and Tokyo, would come. They wrote to overseas cousins. They planned a big party. My brother suggested we all ride to Denver in a limo, an idea that I thought silly at first but ended up agreeing was brilliant.

I asked my daughters to introduce me at the ceremony, then got concerned when I learned my sons were coming, as well. They worked it out, electing Kristin, the oldest, to share the words they had worked on together. Jeni, the youngest, stood by her side, and sons Kurt and Jeff came to the podium to meet me when I was finished with my five-minute talk.

I spoke about “aid stations,” not water and Gatorade, but all the people who have supported me in my running. Hearing the stories of the other inductees was a fascinating journey into the Colorado running community. I felt so honored to be a part of this group of dedicated, talented runners.

Every card and note is going into a little book so I can remember the details of this occasion. Recently, I helped with a race organized by a 15-year-old high school student to fulfill requirements for her International Baccalaureate personal project. All proceeds went to the Food Bank for Larimer County. Perhaps I would not have volunteered if I hadn’t been so grateful for what the running community has meant to me.

I intend to keep on running for as long as I can, but I have a new awareness of the importance of giving back, my way of saying “thank you for having me.”

Libby James runs because it's simple, challenging and conducive to special friendships. Over the past 40 years, she has raced everything from a mile to marathons and has become old enough to hold some records.