The Ghost Runner, by Bill Jones

There are runners, and there are people obsessed with running, and then there are the runners who go way beyond what any other runner can and will do.  I am not sure I have ever read of anyone as committed to running as John Tarrant, and who gave up so much for the sport.  In The Ghost Runner: The Epic Journey of the Man They Couldn't Stop, Bill Jones tells Tarrant's story, a tragic tale of a guy whose way to short life had way too much frustration and loss for one runner to bear.

Well, maybe that's overstating the case.  But read The Ghost Runner and you'll see what I'm talking about.  After being sent away to a grim boarding school during WW2, and losing his mother shortly after the war, the teenage Tarrant took up, among other things, boxing.  He had decent athleticism and enjoyed modest success.  In less than two year, "he'd fought just eight times, pocketing a grand total of seventeen pounds."  His "informal recompense fell way short of the costs Tarrant was incurring" traveling by bus to a nearby town to train.  "It was pocket money and nothing more. . . . John's boxing had already cost him far more than he'd ever earned from it."

Later, as John began running, he revealed that "professional" boxing career when asked whether he had ever competed professionally in athletics.  Honest to a fault, Tarrant dutifully revealed his compensation.  Thus began a decades-long battle against amateur athletic officials.  A world-class runner, Tarrant dreamed of the Olympics.  He ran in races around England, but, prohibited from entering due to his "professional" status, he arrived in disguise, throwing off his coat and hat and jumping into the fray just as the race began.  Race officials tried to chase him down, but Tarrant was too fast (and in at least one case, Tarrant's brother Victor aggressively drove officials away, nearly running them down with his motorcycle).

No number for the ghost runner, and no official recognition, even when he won.

Determined to win, thinking that, even when race officials and results refuse to acknowledge his presence, they can't ignore him if he crosses the line first, Tarrant trained constantly.  He ran to work, ran at lunch, ran after work, ran monster runs on the weekends.  He eventually began to enter longer races, setting world records in the 40 mile and 100 mile distances.  The Comrades ultramarathon in South Africa became his obsession, leading to him living there for months at a time in order to train and enter the race.

British authorities eventually gave him status to race officially in the U.K., but international racing was out.  He ghost ran Comrades, a race in New York, and countless races in England and South Africa.  His faithful wife was a running widow, allowing him room to train continually, use their limited money and time to travel to races, and even to live abroad to pursue his dream of winning Comrades.  (I feel bad leaving for the day to run a race; I can't imagine leaving for a year.)

His life was marked by frustration.  His battle with the amateur athletics authorities went on and on.  Some of his fellow runners and friends said he talked of nothing else, and talked about it a lot.  He would have loved nothing more than to run for his country in international races, but he never could, officially.  He battled stomach problems that crippled him, knocking him out of several races (yet he would win races and set course records sometimes, in spite of his having to take breaks to drop his pants in the bushes beside the course!).  And after four attempts, he never did win Comrades.

Yet the man did love to run.  His drive and commitment simply to run are inspiring.  I would love to run like Tarrant: In the hilly countryside around his home, "there were days when he never even felt tired, when he felt he could run forever, never happier than when climbing steeply, . . . his thoughts a whir of self-imposed times and challenges, the landscape a succession of gateposts, junctions, and landmarks which he reached faster, and with less effort, every time he wrenched on his pumps and braved the hilly air."

Jones captures Tarrant's joy and frustration in The Ghost Runner.  He doesn't dwell on conclusions about Tarrant's treatment by athletic officials; the reader can clearly see that Tarrant's cause was just, his treatment was deplorable, and times quickly changed.  Tarrant died in 1975 at the tragically young age of 42.  With a few short years, the farce of amateurism had ended.  What a shame that Tarrant did not live to see it.  On many levels, Jones inspires awe and admiration for a great runner and a great man.

Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!

Terry Hitchcock's Run

In this space I have written about the feats of well-known runners like Dean Karnazes, Michael Horton, and Marshall Ulrich.  These men are world-class ultramarathoners who have run big miles, setting them apart as ultra-elites.  Joining this small group is Terry Hitchcock, whose mega-marathon run is documented in My Run.  Unlike those other runners, Hitchcock could scarcely have been considered a runner before he decided he would run a marathon a day for 75 days.  But that's exactly what he did, running from Minnesota to Atlanta, arriving in time for the start of the 1996 Olympics.

Hitchcock's wife died of cancer in 1984, leaving him to raise 3 kids on his own.  Shortly after she died, he lost his job.  A decade later, at age 56, he decided to draw some attention to the experiences and challenges of single parents, so he came up with his plan to run to Atlanta.  Although he had not run marathons before, he found a trainer to help him prepare.  He was slow (at one point he said he ran about 8 hours a day), but his endurance held up and he seemed to stay strong.

Besides the painful process of running that far, the other painful part of the film was the dissolution of his team.  He started out with a support team in an RV, but they fled, so he was left with only one of his sons to support him for much of the run.  They did get some free hotel stays, though.  The focus of My Run is more on the runner than the run himself, following his personal journey.  Runners who see the film will probably be asking, How did he do that?  Karnazes, Horton, and Ulrich are seasoned runners with impressive running resumes.  Hitchcock is just a guy.  Which is really the message of the film: regular guys can do the seemingly impossible, whether it's running 75 marathons or raising 3 kids on his own.

Here's his web site: http://www.terryhitchcock.com/index.html

Running America, with Marshall Ulrich

A few weeks ago, I posted a review of Marshall Ulrich's book, Running on Empty, the bulk of which covered his record-breaking coast-to-coast run.  Running America, a documentary about his run, presents a very different perspective from the book, visually capturing the trials and logistical challenges of such an attempt.

As Ulrich discusses in the book, he started this attempt not as a solo effort but with Charlie Engle, another ultrarunner with a long and impressive running resume.  Charlie dropped after a couple weeks, but stayed with the crew, riding his bike, speaking at several stops and participating with the crew.  Ulrich pressed on, completing the run in 52 and a half days.

Since Charlie was a main impetus behind the film--he had earlier done a film about his run across the Sahara with 2 other runners, Running the Sahara--he remained a focus of the film, even though he wasn't running anymore.  In Ulrich's book, Ulrich talks about the tensions with Charlie and the crew; that's not portrayed in the movie.  It's probably best not to immortalize that on film. . . .

The movie does have a positive spin that doesn't really come through in the book.  Shot during the run-up to the 2008 presidential election, the film spends a lot of time on a "one America" theme, interviewing onlookers and passers-by about being American.  This part didn't add much to the movie for me, and not only because I believe the result of the 2008 election was ultimately destructive for the U.S., but I would rather have focused on the physical demands and logistical details of Ulrich's run.

That criticism aside, Running America is a compelling story and a visual treat.  Runners will like it, and some non-runners might be inspired to get up and go.  We can't all run across the U.S., but we can all run farther than we think we can.

Karl Meltzer on The Human Express

Sunday night I happened to see The Human Express, a documentary about Karl Meltzer's run from Sacramento, California, to St. Joseph, Missouri.  To commemorate the 150th anniversary of the Pony Express, Meltzer decided he would run the 2064-mile Pony Express route, something no one had ever done before.  The Human Express records the travails and triumphs of Meltzer and his crew as they follow this historic route.

No stranger to covering long distances, Meltzer has run the Appalachian Trail, and has won more 100 mile races than anyone.  But running 50 miles a day for 40 days has got to take its toll, right?  It would for most of us, but Meltzer seemed to gain strength through the run.  He took daily readings of his resting heart rate and other vitals, and, once he got stabilized after a couple weeks, his health seemed to improve.  Impressive.

I liked his comments on endurance and speed.  He said he doesn't do speed work, but trains for long races by running long distances.  It makes sense, but I have to wonder how well that translates to mere mortals like myself.  Meltzer lives and trains in the Rocky Mountains, so his daily runs must be hilly, rocky, at altitude.  If you're running on mountains every day, you probably don't need to worry about getting in some intervals on the track.  Still, his simple, high-volume, low-stress approach to training is appealing.

The Human Express served as a great commercial for the Hoka One Ones. These are the anti-minimalist running shoes, with so much sole they remind me of those moon shoes that kids wear.  I am a running minimalist, but the farthest I've ever run in my VFFs is 50 miles on trail.  Meltzer ran that much or more every day for 40 days on dirt and pavement.  The Hoka's almost cartoonishly wide soles and thick cushioning certainly made that pounding more tolerable.  His feet held up remarkably well through all that running.

Meltzer's run is an impressive accomplishment, one more to add to his unmatched running resume.  Here's a guy who loves to run, and has figured out how to get a corporate sponsor to pay him to do it.  More power to him!  I look forward to hearing about Meltzer's next insane distance feat.

That's a long, long way to run.

The Lure of Long Distances, by Robin Harvie

If you've read my blog at all, you know I'm a sucker for running books.  I prefer the narrative/memoir books to "how-to" or training books.  The Lure of Long Distances is about as memoir-ish as they come.  I knew I could relate to Harvie on some level by the bio on the book jacket: After trying unsuccessfully to improve his marathon time, "he decided instead to see how far he could run before keeling over" and started running ultramarathons.  That's my story, too.  I started running seriously later in life, completing my first marathon at age 39.  Lots of running books talk about how our bodies start getting slower after 40, so I knew I'd never get too much faster.  I started reading about ultramarathons and decided that I may not be fast, but maybe I can last a long time on my feet.

Harvie was a younger man when he started running ultras, and has run much farther than I ever have.  The Lure of Long Distances covers his running history, primarily the year he spent preparing for the Spartathlon, the annual 152 mile race from Athens to Sparta.  He weaves in his training experiences, personal stories, reports from other races and runs along the way, anecdotes from history and modern running, and plenty of literary and poetic reflections.  He writes skillfully, putting together some beautiful and effective passages.

Harvie spent many hours running along the length of the Thames.

However, the overall product didn't turn out to be a very satisfying read.  All the well-written passages and stories flowed from one to another, kind of like the aid stations in an ultramarathon.  By the time you get to the end, you know there were some nice views and good conversations along the way, but they only fit together in the sense that they were part of one long race.

This is not to say I didn't like the book.  It was an enjoyable read.  But sometimes when I finish reading a book about running, I want to put my shoes on and head out the door right away.  This one made me sit back on the recliner and think about getting ready for bed.

The subtitle of the book, "Why We Run," is, in a way, a bit of false advertising.  Harvie sets out to discover why he runs, but it's up to us to find our own way.  He concludes, "Running is not about fitness, competition, or even other people.  It is simply about becoming a more sentient person, living . . .  a more authentic life." I'll buy that.  But I still ask myself sometimes, "Why am I doing this again?"

Running on Empty, by Marshall Ulrich

If you have ever considered running across the country, or if you have ambitions of trying to set the record for running across the country, here's your cure: pick up Marshall Ulrich's Running on Empty: An Ultramarathoner's Story of Love, Loss, and a Record-Setting Run Across America.  I do admire Ulrich.  How can you not?  He has accomplished all of the major ultramarathoning feats, and then some.  For instance, not content with simply winning the "world's toughest footrace," the Badwater Ultramarathon, four times, he decided to do it 4 times in a row!  He ran the course out and back and out and back, a total of 586 miles, non-stop.  His list of jaw-dropping, amazing running accomplishments is pretty long.

Ulrich complete Badwater one year totally self-supported, pulling this cart.

So it makes sense that he would aim to break the cross-country record.  Running on Empty chronicles that effort, with plenty of other stories about his running exploits and his life.  The first few pages surprised me and had me nearly in tears as he recounted his first wife's struggle with cancer and her death at age 30.  Horrible and tragic.  He attributes his running career in large part to his ongoing efforts to cope with his death.

The bulk of the text is, of course, dedicated to a narrative account of the cross-country run, from the steps of city hall in San Francisco to city hall in New York City.  It's a tale of misery, injury, fractured relationships, hardship, and excruciating pain.  Yes, there are highlights, short encounters with others along the way, and a great sense of accomplishment as he does break the masters and grand masters record, the third fastest time overall, 52 and a half days.

It's a long and lonely road from coast to coast.

If you are a runner, especially if you are an ultrarunner, and your friends and family think you're crazy (What?  You ran 50 miles in one day?  You ran in a race that started at midnight?  Your toenails fell off?), just give them a copy of Ulrich's book.  I can almost guarantee you that the craziest running event or accomplishment you have done pales in comparison to Ulrich.

Thanks to Dave at Endurance Buzz for the free book!

A Quest for Adventure, by David Horton

Last year I wrote about the documentary The Runner, which followed Davd Horton's record-setting run of the Pacific Crest trail (my review here).  A few years before this effort, Horton set out to break the speed record on the Appalachian Trail, from Georgia to Maine.  A Quest for Adventure tells the story of his 1991 A.T. run, as well as his 3rd place finish in the 1994 Trans America race.  With daily dispatches from both runs, Horton and his co-author Rebekah Trittipoe give us a detailed account of what it took to finish both of these feats.

After watching The Runner, I was ready to lace up my shoes (or Velco up my VFFs) and follow Horton's footsteps on the trail.  The DVD has the benefit of both the visual element--the scenery was spectacular--and the time element--you get the whole experience in less than 80 minutes.  By contrast, after reading A Quest for Adventure, I was convinced that if I ever run or hike the Appalachian Trail, I will do it nice and slow, preferably in chunks.  And I don't think I ever want to run across the U.S. 

Horton does love to run, that's clear.  Unfortunately, the tone of Quest leans more toward pain, loneliness, and suffering.  Horton's wife was reluctant to send him away for the months the AT run would take.  He frequently speaks of how he missed her, of crying on the trail, of longing for home.  Some days he had someone running with him, but much of his time was spent running alone.  I'm sure the scenery was great, and the trails were great, but that paled in the misery of the long days (30-40 miles or more) day after day after day.  Even his finish in Maine seemed anticlimactic. 

OK, I've run the whole trail and set a new record.  Can I go home now?

At least the AT run was on nice trails and had a view.  The Trans America race was pretty much all pavement, with some nice views, at times, I'm sure (we live in a vast and varied nation with some beautiful sights to see), but running on the road all that time had to be a drag.  Some was on the shoulder of the interstate, some was even on highways with no shoulders, with 18 wheelers blasting by!  Plus, there was very little drama here.  After the first few weeks, the top spots were separated enough that the best the runners could do was to maintain their place.

Please don't hear me saying that I minimize or belittle the accomplishment of running across the U.S. or setting the AT record.  But I'm left asking, Why?  Horton, a Christian who teaches at a Christian university, speaks frequently about glorifying God in his accomplishments and relying on God's strength and provision.  He said he felt the prayers of his many friends and acquaintances who were praying for him, and he sensed God's answers to his prayers along the way.  I was reminded of the time I was deep into a 50 miler and asked God for his help to finish strong.  I clearly heard God laugh at me and say, "I never asked you to sign up for this race!  You're on your own, buddy!"  (OK, so maybe that wasn't really the voice of God. . . .)

During the Trans American run, David paused at the crossroads of the AT and the Trans America course.

Horton did give an idea of what a production each of these runs was.  In both the AT and the Trans Am, he had dozens and dozens of people crewing for him at one time or another.  And he doesn't go into a lot of detail about the expense, but it sounds like it definitely took some careful planning and budgeting to make these happen.  On the AT, he even washed dishes and cleaned to pay for some of his lodging!

The other striking thing is that he grew stronger through each run.  Rather than wearing him down, the daily runs built up his conditioning, so that he was running as strong, if not stronger, near the end as at the beginning!  Clearly, this type of feat is nor for everyone, but it seems to agree with Horton.

A Quest for Adventure may not be the most beautifully written or profound book you've ever read, but as a journal of 2 remarkable runs, and as a resource for those who want to take on such a challenge, it's worth a read.

More info on the book here: http://www.extremeultrarunning.com/quest.htm.

50/50: Dean Karnazes's Marathon Challenge

A few weeks ago, I posted a review of Ultramarathon Man, the movie documenting Dean Karnazes's running of 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days (posted here).  The accompanying book, 50/50: Secrets I Learned Running 50 Marathons in 50 Days--and How You Too Can Achieve Super Endurance! chronicles those 50 days and throws in lots of practical running and training advice. 

I really enjoyed Dean's recounting of the runs, of his ups and downs through the 50 days, and his personal stories of the people he met along the way.  This was late 2006, before I was interested in running at all, but  through Runner's World magazine, blogs, and e-mail lists, runners accross the country signed up and ran with him.  On weekends, many of the marathons were large events.  During the week, he ran the certified course in whatever city they were in, and worked with the race director for logistical help.  This marathon tour was a huge production, with dozens of people supporting him the whole time, and many more volunteers pitching in at each stop.  Besides the physical feat of running the 50 marathons, the practical feat of coordinating this travelling circus is impressive as well.  (Oh, and by the way, after his last marathon--New York City--Dean said, "No one had booked me a return flight from New York to San Francisco.  So I decided to run instead."  For the next 90 days, he ran all the way to St. Charles, Missouri, where he had started the 50/50, but decided he missed his family and went straight home from there.)

The crew set up full marathon amenities, like this cool finish line, at every event.  This lady ran the 6 New England marathons with Dean and cartwheeled across every finish line!

I must admit I was taken in by the subtitle of the book.  I want to achieve Super Endurance like Dean!  Well, maybe I can.  Mixed in with the travelogue, Dean offers lots of training and running advice for both beginners and experienced runners.  I don't believe you can ever get too much input.  If you read a magazine like Runner's World for more than a few months, you soon realize you're reading lots of similar running wisdom, presented in different forms.  50/50's advice is in the same vein.  Throughout the book is some great advice for runners, but it interrupts the prose of the 50/50 quest, and is presented in a scattershot way which would make referencing it difficult later on.

All that good advice fails on the promise of the subtitle.  If I did everything Dean says, I know I would be a better runner.  While I don't want to minimize Dean's amazing commitment to running and his intensity and love of the sport, I think he has to admit that he is genetically gifted.  I still wonder if I could reach his level of endurance; I'll never know if I don't try, but I'll never be able to try because that guy runs so freakin' much!  As one example, during the 50/50, Dean's blood was tested periodically.  At the end of it, he showed 1/4 as much muscle damage, as measured by creatine phosphokinase in the bloodstream, as a typical runner after one marathon!  Has his body adapted, or is this a genetic advantage he has?  Who knows.

Dean raised money for his charity, Karno's Kids.  You gotta love the slogan, "No child left inside."

On a side note, even though the 50/50/50 challenge sounds likes something no one has ever done before, at least one person beat Dean to it.  Sam Thompson started a similar quest earlier in the same year, completing 51 marathons in the 50 states plus D.C. in 50 days to raise money for Katrina victims.  In this Runner's World interview, Dean sounds supportive, "What Sam's doing is absolutely terrific. . . . if he encourages other people to get out and do things, I can't take anything away from him," but gets in a little jab, too: "He's obviously wanting to scoop what I was doing."  According to this Sports Illustrated article, Dean had some nice things to say about Sam Thompson's feat, and, in fact, talked his own major sponsor, North Face, into taking Sam on as well.  While Dean finished it with a small army and a large sponsor, Sam finished it with his wife and a trickle of a word-of-mouth campaign.  Both are amazing, but I tend to think Sam's might be a bit more amazing.

All things considered, Dean is an amazing runner and remains high on my list of running heroes.  I'm pretty sure I'll never match anywhere near his accomplishments, whether completing the 50/50/50, winning Badwater or Leadville, or running 300 miles in one stretch.  But he is an example to all runners to stretch ourselves, and set out to accomplish things we never thought we could do.  For some, that might mean finishing a marathon.  For me, it might be qualifying for Boston or completing a mountain 100.  More importantly, he promotes running just for fun.  Step out the front door, and run as far as you can in one direction, then run back home.  I love his take on the Australian walkabout.  He says to set aside a day for a runabout.  Start running in the morning, before the sun comes up, and run until after the sun goes down.  And just like Dean, enjoy every step of the way.

Feet in the Clouds: A Tale of Fell-Running and Obsession, by Richard Askwith

If you thought fell running referred to the common experience of many trail runners, you would only be partly right.  In British English, a fell is "a barren or stony hill."  In the UK, fell running is a long and storied tradition.  In Feet in the Clouds, journalist Richard Askwith gives his first-hand accounts of his experiences in the sport and reports of his runs, facing down some of fell running's great challenges.

Most of the fell races have a simple course and simpler origins.  It's no coincidence that many of them start from a village pub.  You can almost hear the challenge after a couple of drinks: "I bet you a round of drinks that I can run to the top of that fell and back in an hour," as he points out the window to the nearby mountain.  So many of the races, though they are short in terms of mileage, are run basically straight up the mountain and straight back down.

Of course, over the years, many of the races have become more refined, and draw more than just the patrons of the local pub.  Askwith starts running with friends on weekends, and frequents these races, taking us on a tour of fells around the U.K. and the races held on them, and walking us through a hall-of-fame of British fell runners.  The stories he tells are entertaining, but they do contribute to drawing out the book longer than I felt like it ought to be.

Anyone who has been a trail runner or has been around trail runners will get a kick out of his descriptions of the races and the racers.  A couple of examples: "Fell-runners, I was learning, see sports injuries in a different way to other athletes. . . . Pig-headed refusal to face the medical facts is a central tenet of fell-running dogma. . . . Most of them see demonstrable indifference to health-threatening agonies as a necessary badge of honour, without which you cannot really claim to be a paid-up member of the sport."  I haven't suffered real "health-threatening agonies" but have certainly seen people press on through pain to finish a race.  This piece of advice sums up a key area of wisdom for ultrarunning: "I have learnt that successful ultra-distance fell-running can have as much to do with what you eat and drink as anything else."

Along the way on the Bob Graham Round.

A key thread through the book follows Askwith's pursuit of the ultimate fell running challenge: finishing the Bob Graham round.  This is not a race run on a specific date, but a course on which runners summit (and descend) 42 Lake District peaks, covering a distance of about 72 miles, in 24 hours.  Based on his descriptions, this is much harder than it sounds.  I'll save you the suspense: he does finish, but it takes him several tries.

As I said, Feet in the Clouds seemed overlong.  But I did enjoy his profiles of the fell running legends.  As I read I thought about how much fun it would be to write a book about the races and runners I have met in my short, quite limited trail running career (career?  That sounds funny.  You know what I mean.)  In the North Texas Trail Runners, and people I have met from Tejas Trails, and others I have read or heard about, there are plenty of great stories that could easily fill a book.  Maybe someone like Askwith, with his writing talent and a passion for trail running, will take on such a project.  In the meantime, it's fun to read about American trail runners' counterparts across the Atlantic.

UltraMarathon Man: 50 Marathons - 50 States - 50 Days

Some people are just made different.  Dean Karnazes makes that point in this video: it's all about choosing your parents well.  Karnazes's ultrarunning feats astound anyone who's heard of him, and many have.  He's been featured on countless news shows, talk shows, published a couple of books, and run in races all around the world.  It's easy to look at him as a hero.

UltraMarathon Man chronicles one of his many bold feats: he ran, as the title suggests, a marathon in all 50 states over the course of 50 days, culminating in the New York Marathon.  Some of the marathons were organized races.  Most were put together by his crew, in which case they followed the course of the host city's established marathon.  Through the grapevine and his blog, Karnazes gathered a group to run with him at each site, sometimes hundreds of people, in one case only one.

One thing that struck me while watching this was how much fun it must be to run with Karnazes.  I have heard criticism of him as a self-centered self-promoter, but none of that came across in this video.  He shows lots of interest in the people he runs with, and shows genuine humility when people express their admiration.  He promotes not himself, but activity, exercise, getting people off the couch, fighting childhood obesity and general inactivity.  Who can argue with that? 

This feat, running 50 marathons in 50 days, has been replicated, probably by a number of people.  Karnazes does it right, though, with great support and planning, getting to every state in 50 days.  It's hard not be inspired by him. For someone who runs the occasional marathon, you have to ask, can I do more?  For someone who's never run one, you have to ask, why not try it?  Before I get too excited, though, Karnazes reminds me that his body chemistry and genetic make up have enabled him to have an extraordinary level of endurance.  Can I get there through nutrition and training?  That's the big question.  But after watching this movie, you'll be inspired at least to think about it!

Mega Marathoners in the WSJ

In under 12 months, I have run 2 road marathons, 1 trail marathon, a 50K, a 60K, a 50 miler, and a few shorter races.  But I have a long, long way to go to catch up with the marathoners in this article!  This appeared in the Wall Street Journal on November 19.  Call me in 30 years to see if I have kept up with these runners!

By the way, Larry Macon, the lawyer from San Antonio who holds the record for the most marathons run in a year, broke his own record at White Rock last year, my first marathon!

I don't know how long WSJ leaves up their articles.  Link to it here to see the pictures and video.  Take a few minutes to watch this video, which follows Eugene DeFronzo on a marathon.

For 'Mega Marathoners,' the Race Is On -- to Run More Races

At 73, Eugene DeFronzo Finishes His 402nd; He's 'a Nut Job' and 'a Marvel,' Says Doctor

By NEIL KING JR.

KITTY HAWK, N.C. -- Some compulsives collect shoes. Others obsess over video games. Eugene DeFronzo, 73 years old, runs marathons. He clocked his 402nd here on a recent Sunday, and has three more planned this year.

The Connecticut personal-injury lawyer cracked three vertebrae when he slipped during a race last December. He pulled a hamstring in Tampa two months later, and again in Mississippi a week after that. He nearly passed out in the parched hills of South Dakota in August, finishing last by two hours. In October, he got lost in the woods of Indiana when organizers cleared away the markers. "It's an obsession," he says. "No different than gambling, drinking or doing drugs."

Mr. DeFronzo is part of a proud subculture of self-styled "mega marathoners," people who run hundreds of the 26.2-mile races. Three Germans, a Finn and a Japanese woman are known to have clocked more than 1,000 marathons apiece -- that is 26,200 miles, about 1,300 miles more than the circumference of the earth. The record holder, 74-year-old Horst Preisler, has run 1,636 marathons.

Norm Frank, 78, owner of a lawn-care company in Rochester, N.Y., was poised to be the first American to break that one-thousand mark before he suffered a stroke last November, a month after running his 965th marathon. He is now in a nursing home, forced to use a walker as he works to regain his strength and sense of balance. "I still have hopes," Mr. Frank says.

Floridian Denny Fryman, 62, has only 192 to go. Shooting for 20 a year, the hotel concierge figures he can get to 1,000 before he turns 72. "Every time I cross the finish line, it's the biggest natural high there is," he says.

Scientists have studied compulsive running, not only in humans but in rats and mice. Some compare it to eating disorders like anorexia nervosa.

Michael Sachs, a professor at Temple University in Philadelphia who studies exercise addictions and usually runs 18 miles a week, says for most people, running multiple marathons is simply a passion, like skiing or surfing, and not a disorder. He says runners enter addiction territory only when they can't control their urge to race. "If running marathons is at the top of your list of values above all else," says Dr. Sachs, "that might be something to worry about."

Marathon trackers say fixations usually hit in middle age, when men and women want to test their abilities before it's too late. That's also when people tend to have more free time and disposable income. The passion inspires odd fraternities. Have you run 100 marathons? There's a club for that. Have you notched at least one marathon in all 50 states? There's a club for that, too.

Bob Dolphin, who founded the 100 Marathon Club in 2001 with his nonrunner wife, Lenore, says he ran "seven marathons in seven consecutive weekends at age 77 in 2007." Others have been known to do 50 races in 50 weeks the year they turn 50.

More than 435,000 runners crossed the finish line at the country's 361 marathons last year, according to John Elliott, who runs the Marathon Guide Web site, which tracks nearly all U.S. marathons and records. Most of those were content with finishing just one race, but many were repeat runners, estimates Mr. Elliott.

One tally of mega marathoners, compiled by Japan's 100 Marathon Club, counts 167 runners world-wide who have logged at least 300. Thirty-three are American.

Yes, there are the medals, and the bragging rights. Larry Macon, a 64-year-old lawyer at Akin Gump in San Antonio, Texas, says he does it mainly for the fresh air and camaraderie. He ran 105 last year, or more than two a week, and is about to break 600.

"The jerk percentage among marathoners is just so much lower than the jerk percentage among lawyers," he says. This Thanksgiving he plans to run three marathons over three days, plus another four in December. (Obsession appears to run in the family. Mr. Macon's wife, Jane, has a herd of 600 miniature horses.)

Born with a curved spine and diagnosed later with an enlarged heart, Mr. DeFronzo ran his first race, the 1991 New York Marathon, when he was 56. Not until 1994 did he run multiple races -- six that year. He did 15 the next year, 20 the year after that, then 30 in 1997.

Mr. DeFronzo has achieved the 50-states feat six times and is 13 states shy of his seventh circuit. Every lap around the country, he figures, costs him $25,000 in travel costs and registration fees.

He ran past penguins in Antarctica. He had a near miss with lions in Kenya. He did a race in Death Valley, and crossed the tundra in Canada's Nunavut Territory. He has run in Saginaw, Mich., four times.

The walls of Mr. DeFronzo's law office in Cheshire, Conn., are hung with race medals, mounted and framed. A billboard outside bears a 12-foot-square photo of him finishing the 1994 Philadelphia Marathon, and the slogan: "I'll go the extra mile for you."

He can't quite pin down why he does it. "It's hard, and you don't get anything at the end but a medal," he says. "I guess overachievers just like to put obstacles in their way to conquer."

His physician, Dr. Stephen Harris, calls Mr. DeFronzo both "a nut job" and "a marvel." His vitals, Mr. Harris says, are those of a much younger man, while "his muscular and skeletal system is spectacular.".

Even the cracked vertebrae last December and the pulled hamstring only slowed Mr. DeFranzo a bit. His recent trip to North Carolina's Outer Banks marked his 15th marathon of the year. Last year, he ran a total of 35.

He arrived at Kitty Hawk a day early, as usual, to survey the route. He loaded his plate with rigatoni at the traditional pasta dinner the night before, but shunned the sauce because it could upset his stomach. "Too risky," he said. He woke before dawn to stretch in his motel room, swallowed an aspirin and stuffed a spare shoelace in his pocket.

Jostled by runners near the starting line, he chugged a Red Bull, a caffeine-loaded drink whose motto is, "Gives You Wings." He crammed two more cans in his back pocket and carried a fourth in a plastic bag. "My aim is to run this in finish time -- whatever time it takes to finish," he said. "I'm not looking for any hour or minute."

He started strong, stride for stride with the horde, but soon slowed to his own pace. His shirt listed his 50-state accomplishments in bold on the back. A few first-timers jogged past him in awe. "You're an inspiration," one woman said. A guy in a red pick-up stuck his head out the window and yelled, "Way to go, buddy!"

"I don't need crowd support," he said, craning up a slope at the 11th mile. A mile later he chugged his second Red Bull. He navigated much of the course at a pace somewhere between a shuffle and a trot. A second wind, fueled in part by his last two Red Bulls, helped him overtake stragglers in the final miles. He finished 16 seconds shy of seven hours, and 14 runners ahead of last place. The winner beat him by four hours, 27 minutes.

"I'm glad that's over with," he said, before a woman draped him with another finisher's medal. "It wasn't that hard, but still, it's 26 miles."