Even Oprah has Run a Marathon

A few key points to running an ultramarathon: hydrate often, wear the proper kind of shoes and remember that the rattlesnake always has the right of way. It used to be that finishing a marathon was the pinnacle of running. But what do you do when 26 miles, 385 yards is just so -- yawn -- pedestrian?

"Everybody's done a marathon; Oprah's done a marathon, it's almost like it's too easy now," said ultrarunner Steve Mentzer of Allison Park.

Ultras are different from road races in several ways. First, they are longer, anywhere from 30 miles to more than 130 miles. Some events are not measured in distance, but in hours or days. Then there is the matter of venue: You'll find ultra courses in leafy state parks, along snow-dusted mountain trails or, in what just might be the king of them all, the insanely challenging Death Valley, start to the 135-mile Badwater Ultramarathon in California.

Mentzer, 40, was an avid backpacker who got involved in trail running about 10 years ago. In November, he tried the 50K JFK Ultra in Boonsboro, Md., and this summer found himself directing the inaugural Baker Trail Ultra Challenge last month.

"At 141 miles long, the trail is a little too long for one ultramarathon, so we're doing it over the course of three years," Mentzer said. "This year [was] the north segment, including the first 40 miles of the trail itself. Next year, it's the central section and in 2007, the southern section."

Finishers received a medal that, when pieced together with those for the next two years, forms a map in the shape of a pie.

"We're playing off the 'Baker' trail thing, even though Baker has nothing to do with baking," he said, laughing.

July's Rattlesnake Trail 50K in Charleston, W.Va., rewarded the top finisher with a medal made from a piece of slate that had a snake's rattle etched into it like a fossil.

It's a challenging course that includes 10 climbs and trails through Kanawha State Forest.

"There's plenty of good scenery, but if you take a good look, you'll become part of it," said Dennis Hamrick, 47, who created the event 11 years ago with Mickey Jones.

That scenery has included poisonous snakes, but not often, Hamrick said. "Runners normally go around the best they can, but they know you have to let the rattlesnake have the right of way."

RunThePlanet.com, a Web site devoted to exactly that, has helpful links that include running into a rattlesnake ("do NOT attempt to shoo the snake away"), running into a polar bear ("don't give a polar bear the opportunity to sneak up on you") and running into a dingo ("do not eyeball the animal at all").

Never far away

There are plenty of ultra events within a five-hour drive of Pittsburgh, including the 70.5-mile Laurel Highlands Ultra each spring, the Tussey Mountainback 50-miler in Boalsburg Oct. 15 and the Ultimate Canuck, back-to-back distance events over one July weekend in Milton, Ontario.

Dave Wilt, 38, of Ross, thought it might be fun to enter the Punxsutawney 50K two years ago. He had never competed in an ultra.

"I saw the times from the year before and, for the distance, they seemed pretty slow. I knew there was a catch but I didn't know what it was."

A few miles into the race, the running trail disappeared.

"There's this real skinny path and then it drops straight down and I'm thinking 'OK, I'm in for a long day.' "

He found himself gingerly picking his way down rocky hillsides, stepping over creek beds and occasionally, actually running. He said he figured if he took his eyes off the ground "I might hurt something."

Wilt won the Punxsutawney race and returned last year to take second.

Not that Wilt considers himself a true ultramarathoner. Not yet.

"One guy I ran into at the park had just finished his first 100-miler and he told me: 'You know, that second sunrise was beautiful.'

"And I'm thinking, 'the second sunrise?' There is something really wrong with that."

"Some people like the challenge of trying to compete under certain environmental conditions, and if that's the case," said ultrarunner Chris Gibson of Wilkins, "then Badwater is right up your alley."

The Badwater 'gruel-fest'

In the world of distance challenges, there are many ultras and only one Badwater. Californian Al Arnold completed the 135-mile trek in 1977 after two previous failed attempts, which spurred others to try.

The annual gruel-fest now attracts as many as 80 of the fittest people on the planet and pits men and women against conditions that might melt your average marathon runner (figuratively) if not the soles of your shoes (literally).

It's in mid-July, when temperatures have reached 130 degrees at the start in Badwater, Death Valley. That's the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere (280 feet below sea level) and the trail leads runners through three mountain ranges with a cumulative ascent of 13,000 feet.

The finish at the Mt. Whitney Portals is 8,360 feet above sea level.

"It really is the hardest event out there," said Badwater director Chris Kostman, a veteran of extreme distance events.

"I could make it easier by holding it in the winter, but I could not make it any harder than it already is.

"It's wind, dust, sand and long, long mountain ranges. There are not many ultras where you run uphill for 17 miles straight."

Not just anyone can enter Badwater, where experience and maturity are prized.

"Somebody who just started running ultras two years ago, even if they've done 20, that doesn't impress us," Kostman said.

The average age among Badwater runners this year was 46; the youngest male was 31.

"Older [athletes] have more structure in their lives and they have the time and the money to invest," Kostman said. "And it's not a very glamorous event. People for the most part are doing ultras as a personal quest.

"People in their 20s aren't thinking that way. They're thinking of finding a path, building a nest, finding a mate. People who can move beyond that are doing what I call 'polishing themselves from the inside out.' "

The oldest of the 87 finishers on the Rattlesnake Trail this summer was 73.

No one runs alone

No one really goes it alone in ultras. Besides extensive race staff that is constantly on the move to provide runners with tables laden with food, drink or a perhaps a quick blood monitoring (Badwater), someone has to make certain everyone is accounted for in the forest.

Ham radio operators checked athletes through at certain points at Rattlesnake. For the Baker Trail race, radio frequency ID tags will be scanned at five locations scattered among aid stations.

There are obvious risks to competing in ultras. Although the human body is well-suited to the rigors of long-distance running, heat exhaustion, dehydration and -- recognized only recently -- hyponatremia are all risks. The latter is a condition of overhydration, which can lead to dangerous internal swelling and chemical imbalance in the brain.

Many ultras require participants to have a support crew and vehicle, which involves a lot more than riding around and handing out chilled towels.

"Crewing is an adventure in and of itself," said Anne Humphreys of Upper St. Clair. "The first time I crewed for Sammy [husband Sam Bertenthal] was the Laurel Highlands 70-mile race in 1993."

The race was 70.5 miles, but Humphreys wound up driving twice that distance in order to meet him at certain points along the twisting route.

Bertenthal was struggling that day. At one aid station, Humphreys remembers yelling "You're looking great!" while thinking "I haven't driven all over creation for you to drop out now."

He finished the race in the dark.

Not long ago, on a steamy Saturday morning along the 1.25-mile Gilfillan Trail in Upper St. Clair, the couple put on a six-hour, low-key ultra called Sammy's Birthday Run.

Cars whooshed past on nearby Route 19 as small bands of runners clipped along the grassy, tree-lined path. A makeshift scoreboard listed dangerously to one side, finally falling to the ground.

It didn't matter: Everyone seemed to be keeping their own count of laps.

Now and again, a runner would stop to pick up a snack from a folding table strewn with portable foodstuffs. Some changed shirts or shoes; most took the time to chat with Humphreys.

The scenario was extraordinary in how utterly unremarkable the runners considered six hours time spent on a summer morning.