Somewhere out near the limit to human endurance you will find the Western States 100. It is billed as an endurance "race" of 100 miles, but clearly race is not the right term. The annual June run, from Squaw Valley over the rugged crests and valleys of the Sierra, is more like a carefully organized ordeal, a deliberate decision to push one's body and mind to (and in some cases beyond) the breaking point.
Hallucinations are not uncommon. Most participants lose many, if not all, of their toenails. Falls are common. Blood flows. Participants give in to despair and anguish over their ability to go on. And when they finish, often looking like near death, they sometimes collapse in an emotional heap and may need days, or weeks, to get back to normal.
Get the picture? This ain't jogging.
And yet, some runners, like Orinda's John Fazel, run the course over and over. Why? On some level we may never be able to explain it. But Susan Cohn's documentary, "Running Madness," showing Saturday and Sunday at the Orinda Film Festival, begins to give us some idea.
"The question is why someone would do that to their body," says Cohn. "Who are these crazy people who are doing this? And what we found is that they are really interesting people."
"Just an observation," says Fazel, "but I think with running most people are trying to find themselves. They run away from their problems. They'd rather run 30 miles than face it."
All seem to agree that this is an event that attracts the addictive personality. Cohn's film finds runners who are recovering, from drug abusers to a man who is attempting the course on an artificial leg. Fazel says he was a smoker and "replaced it with running."
If there is one point the film makes, it is that the WS 100 is not a celebration of good health. Without question the participants have trained diligently and are incredibly fit. But the process of running 100 miles through the mountains, with a total climb of some 18,000 feet and a descent of 23,000 feet, in 24 hours or less, breaks down their bodies.
"I have spoken to medical doctors who say this is terrible for their bodies," says Cohn. "Personally, after watching this, I don't think it is a healthy thing to do. But there are a lot of things that are not healthy. Who can say? Some people exercise for 20 minutes and drink Diet Cokes all day."
Even participants like Fazel, who will introduce the film Saturday, admit that the strain is not the best for your body.
"Oh it's not," Fazel says. "Absolutely. If you really want to take care of yourself, you could go out and power walk. My doctor told me, you probably run more than you need for your health, but if you enjoy it, keep it up."
If anyone captures the quirky spirit of the event, it is the founder, Gordy Ainsleigh. An offbeat character with full mountain man beard, Ainsleigh accidentally created the event in 1974 when he entered a 100-mile horse ride, only to find that his mount was lame. On an impulse, he took off to run the trail, finishing in less than 24 hours.
Ainsleigh, now 58 and a chiropractor, is a recurring figure in "Running Madness." He once again runs the course but struggles mightily. At times, at one of the aid stations, he looks finished, but manages to bring it home, offering up his odd brand of self-help and self-deprecation along the way.
In that first Western States 100 run, he says, "I made the decision to keep putting one foot in front of the other until I could no longer put one foot in front of the other. That's a really stupid thing to do."
That gets a laugh, but there's some truth to it, too. Medical personnel carefully monitor the runners, pulling them out of the race if their body weight falls too much or if they seem disoriented and confused. Although 425 runners start each year (they are picked by lottery because the demand for applications is so high) only a little more than 50 percent finish.
"At what point are you a hero, and when are you an idiot?" asks Cohn. "That would be my question."
Fazel isn't having any of that talk.
"There are no idiots in this group," he says. "It takes a special person. A lot more talented people than me can't do it. I would say that the mind is either the barrier or the support."
But to listen to Fazel, or race veterans who appear in "Running Madness," is to enter a parallel universe where pain, fatigue and emotional distress are all part of the package.
Fazel talks about how "after 60-70 miles, that's when the race really starts." He describes the year the "whole ball of my foot was a solid blister. I realized I was in trouble when the blood was oozing up through the top of my shoe." His toenails, a persistent WS 100 problem, have fallen off so often that now he tries to lose them before the race begins "so I won't have to deal with it."
Such hardship is nearly incomprehensible. And so is this. John Fazel has run the Western States 100 five times.
He is 68 years old.
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