Running, Watching Running and Campaign Running

Another great weekend around the Bay, another week to go before the elections.

First things first. Had a beautiful 24 mile run out of Muir Beach and into the woods Saturday with my Endurables group. Might have been shorter if I hadn't insisted to Jenny that our route to Muir Beach was farther up the Dipsea then it was but hey, a few extra steps weren't going to kill us. Funny how you forget how bad things felt at the time as soon as it's over. Anyway, after a quick leg bath in the ocean afterwards, I went to visit Rick back in SF who was volunteering at SF One Day. SF One Day is a 24 (and 12) hour race comprised of running the same 1.067 mile loop along Chrissy Field as many times as you can in that period. For 24 hours. The same loop. ? I wanted to see who the runners were, what the set up looked like, catch some glimpse of insight as to why and how anyone would do this.

The who was quickly apparent. They were old and they were young. Fit and overweight. Moving quickly, moving awkwardly. Talking, gasping. Sweating, smiling. Tattoed, shaved. In skirts, in shorts, in tights. There was an entire family running the 12 hours together - with 2 kids under 11 or so who ran something like 27 miles each. Each. There were 20-somethings who obviously had no idea college football was playing in sports bars throughout the Marina and a 71 year old who kept up a nimble pace each lap I saw him. Around and around and around they went as I sat there on the grass feeling humble about my 24-mile accomplishment just an hour earlier.

The what was a dedicated group of volunteers, an updated scoreboard that listed the number of laps each runner had completed (along with a leaderboard), a set-up that allowed friends/loved ones to send emails of encouragement to the runners and dozens of supporters lining the start/stop area at the ready with chairs, extra clothes, massages, cell phones, towels. Some ran laps with their runners to keep them encouraged, some took naps. When I arrived at 3 I asked why no one was cheering and was told they'd been there since 9am. Yeah, I can see how the cheering might die down 6 hours later with 6 or 18 more to go.

The why was harder to grasp. Rick said it might be for a benchmark time - to see what was possible on a flat course in 12 or 24 hours. Or what a best possible 50 mile time might be. Our friend Ed was out training to be able to run 50 miles on his 50th birthday but was doing so well he kept going in the 12 hour race to finish with 52 miles while still just 49. I gathered that for most it was just because. Because it's there. Because they could. Because you don't know unless you try what your body can do. Because there's something scary and satisfying about saying you're training for a 24 hour race.

This is what it means to be humble when you participate in the athletic landscape of California. Running a 5k, running a marathon, running 24 hours over mountains or running 24 hours of the same loop, running across the Sahara, running to the Sahara; there is always some feat that seems completely incomprehensible, so out of the realm of possible. Until one day when you think....maybe. That's how I came to Ironman. That's how I came to train for a 50k.

I left after a couple of hours but returned later in the evening near 11pm to see how things had progressed. It was cold, the fog had come in. The 12 hour racers were gone. The remaining racers were layered up, with headlamps, some still jogging, some speedwalking, some just walking. I tried to find a friend of Sasser's but Rick told me that when he checked the hourly stats, she'd done just 2 loops in the last hour and might be sacked out somewhere in a car. It had been 14 hours at that point. Some people still looked remarkably spry. Some looked exhausted. The leader I'd been following earlier had dropped back. The winner finished with 122 laps for 130 miles. The next 5 finishers were ages 40, 31, 54, 59 and 55 - all finishing with 100+ miles on their legs. Youth was served.

And so we begin the countdown to election day. A flurry of parties are springing up to bring people together to discuss the myriad of propositions on the ballot. My favorite is a halloween-inspired "Come as Your Favorite Proposition" theme. I'm going with Prop 4: Parental Notification - oh, the possibilities.

It's been an interesting and exciting time watching the campaigns progress/regress this year. I saw a shirt the other day with a picture of Obama that simply said "That one." From TV to You Tube to Cafe Press - it's Election Year 2.0. It feels hopeful. It feels inspiring. Is it the man or the situation we find ourselves in today? I think a little of both. I hope more people get out and vote. I HOPE Prop 8 is defeated. I hope that the Mormon church does one day lose its tax exempt status regardless of any propositions currently on the ballot. I hope for a dose of 49ers coach Mike Singletary in our next President.