Lean Horse Ultra Marathon

Ben Clark 2009

Posted on 05. Jan, 2010 by admin in Ultra Tales

Hello, this is Ben Clark. I’m the 18-year old who completed the 2009 Lean Horse Hundred.
After the race, you indicated that you were interested in my story, so I decided to write down my
personal account of the hundred mile race Before I begin my story, however, I would like to
thank you for organizing the race. It was one of the best, most memorable experiences of my life,
and I am thrilled to have done it. I would definitely like to continue ultra-running in the future.
Before I begin, a little background…
“WHY I STARTED RUNNING”
I have always committed myself completely to what I do, and until about a year or two
ago, “what I did” was almost entirely academic. I was the class “genius” (as they called me). I
was the kid with the 4.0 GPA. I had straight A’s, seldom dropping below a 98% in any given
class. I took every AP course my high school offered. In one semester in Advanced Algebra, I
had straight 100s across the board, including a 100% in the “toughest semester final I would take
that year.” I did everything to perfection. School was my life.
I think there came a point where I overdid it. I guess wisdom comes with a price, and I
paid that price. We’ll see whether or not I actually gained any “wisdom” in the end. In my Junior
year, I took on way too much, and I burned out toward the end of the year. I was studying all the
time. Often, I would get 3-4 hours of sleep at night. I made it through that year, though, with my
4.0, and I was satisfied. But I had lost something important. I had lost my drive.
I started my senior year, burnt out. In school, I had slowed down to a snail’s pace. I didn’t
care anymore. I didn’t push myself to be fast or sharp. Nothing mattered. Yet for some unknown
reason, I still worked for straight A’s.
It took me longer to learn things- longer to remember things. This meant that I got even
less sleep than before, making me even slower. It was a vicious cycle. I lived like a zombie,
living off two or three hours of sleep at night, but doing almost nothing (except homework at a
very slow pace) during the day.
I remember one time when I got home, sat down at my desk, pulled out my homework,
and I heard a knock on my bedroom door. I looked at the time. Three hours had passed. I had
simply fallen asleep, sitting upright at my desk, eyes open and everything. My mom had been
knocking to see if I was okay.
That was when I decided that I had to do something. I had to change my life around. I
didn’t care how, but I had to do it. So, I started running.
In the winter of my Senior year in high school, I immediately reversed my life. I started
waking up at 4:30 every morning, going to the YMCA, and running for an hour- a full eight
miles. I’m guessing this increased the blood flow to my brain or something, because I became
sharper, faster, and smarter in school. I felt like my old self again.
Never having run much before, eight miles was very difficult for me. But I pushed my
limits. The last three miles every morning were almost impossible. The only thing that got me
through was taking one step at a time. I had to keep going- to buy myself back. A few times I
almost passed out. I would tell myself “never again.” But later, when I was taking a shower and
getting ready for school, I would reflect on the morning run, and I never failed to remind myself
that the pain doesn’t matter. Pain is irrelevant- a sensory experience. It pales in comparison to the
pursuit of a goal.
And so it started. My running “career.”
I joined track the spring of my senior year. I was somewhat disappointed. The training
was much shorter and faster, not at all like my long-but-slow morning runs. It wasn’t as helpful
to me in becoming sharper and more concentrated in school. That was when I realized that my
heart truly lies with distance running. Long, painful miles were the only way I could find myself
again.
When I graduated, I still felt numb to the world. Even though I graduated as best in my
class, I didn’t care. It really didn’t seem like it mattered. It all felt like one big game. I felt like a
part of myself had died. Running had helped bring that spark back in my life, but there was still
something missing. So, on graduation day, when everyone was celebrating and cheering, I was
very solemn.
I told myself that I would run an ultra-marathon by the end of the summer.
The day after graduation, I started running 16 miles a day. No exceptions. Once I even
ran at 3:00-4:30 in the morning because I had been occupied with friends all day. I felt great
during the first week, but then things started to happen. I had taken on too much at once, and I
had been too rigid. Running isn’t something that you force your body into. You let your body
run. You respect your body, and grow and follow along as it grows and progresses. Running is a
very natural, flowing, changing thing.
Not having shown my body the respect it deserved, I got incredible pain in my knee and
ankle. So I had to take some time off. Eventually I got back onto a training schedule, where I
eased up my mileage and took off two days each week. Soon I was running 20 miles a day, at
least three days a week.
I completely changed my diet. I ate about six meals a day. I had absolutely no processed
sugars, and whenever I wanted a snack, I would get a bowl of vegetables. I tried to consume
something every hour, on the hour. On odd-numbered hours, I would have some vegetables, fatfree
milk (I got my fat from nuts, vegetable oils, and baked white meats) or other healthy snacks.
On even-numbered hours I would drink a cup of water to keep hydrated. I was completely
changing my body around, and it felt great. I found that I actually wanted to eat healthily, and I
actually wanted to get out and run.
Then came the planning of the ultra-marathon. Originally I was thinking of running 50
miles independently. This might entail a run to the Canadian border or a run from Minot (my
hometown in North Dakota) to Glenburn and back. Then I looked online for nearby ultramarathons.
That was when I found the Lean Horse ultra-marathon. I decided I would do it.
I printed out the sign-up sheet. I noticed the blank line next to “50 miles” and the other
one next to “100 miles.” I left the sheet on my desk, uncompleted.
A few days later, however, I took out the sheet and filled out the line next to the words
“100 miles.” I simply had to. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I didn’t go all the
way. Maybe I was starting to get my motivation and dedication back after all.
So, at 6:00 A.M. on Saturday, August 22, I found myself at the starting line of the Lean
Horse Hundred.
“THE RACE”
The beginning of the run was peaceful- relaxing. I heard the creek and the birds. I met
other runners and exchanged pleasantries. I was loving it. Of course it got harder, as time wore
on.
The path suddenly became hilly and rocky as it turned onto Argyle Road. It was still
early enough in the race that I could have run up the hills, but I knew better. Even the more
experienced runners slowed down to a walk up the steepest hills. I followed suit; I didn’t want to
burn myself out prematurely.
I found that I was the youngest person there, as I had expected. Ultra-marathoners are
usually in their forties, fifties, sixties, and even seventies. Many were surprised at my age. I
couldn’t blame them. I was too.
Over time, the runners spread out. I found myself alone, and the sun was rising, making
the air hotter. I later found out that the temperature was in the nineties during much of the day. It
felt hotter. I wasn’t used to running that distance in the heat.
By mile 20, I started feeling queezy. I hadn’t been eating enough. I was surprised by my
condition. I had trained to eat on the run, but this was different. The heat made me want to throw
up, much less eat. Nevertheless, I forced down some granola. After more eating, I started to feel
better. I still felt queezy, but not as weak or shaky as I had felt before. I continued to force-feed
myself. It went like this for another thirty miles.
At mile 47, I was feeling even worse. Apparantly, I didn’t look too good either. Some of
the aid station workers called ahead and told the next station to keep an eye out for me. I had no
idea how I looked at the time. I just picked up a rice krispy bar from the station and kept running.
It was the rice krispy bar that did it. I ate all but the last bite, and as soon as I took that
last bite, I threw up everything in my stomach all over the side of the path.
I was in real trouble because I had just lost a bunch of calories, electrolytes, and fluids, all
of which I needed to perform at peak level. In spite of this, I felt worlds better after throwing up.
I got up and ran at a swift pace to the next aid station.
I didn’t expect it, but Coke saved my life. It was one of the only things I could stomach
without wanting to throw up again. Even powerade made me want to gag. At the aid station I had
two cups of coke, a cup of broth, and some energy gel. Then I tried to hydrate a little more than
normal to cancel out the diuretic effect of the caffeine in the coke.
After the 50-mile turnaround, I got my flashlight and sweater, and began preparing for
the nighttime running. I was feeling great. My parents told me that I had run a record pace when
they met me at the next aid station. This was a little scary to me. I didn’t want to burn myself out,
but I was running on a high.
Soon it was pitch black. I continued running in the dark, my light illuminating the path
about 10 yards ahead. Once, I saw some eyes staring out at me from the woods. I have no idea
what animal it was, but I just kept running anyway.
When I stopped at aid stations, I would start to shiver violently. My clothes were
saturated in sweat, which was perfect as I was running, but when I stopped, I became so cold that
I was practically seizing with shivers. I noticed that rings of salt had formed around my nostrils
where the sweat had evaporated.
I continued that way, running from station to station, stopping to drink coke, broth, and
energy gel. I was always stiff when I resumed running, but I would work back into it within five
minutes or so. As I look back, it probably would have been better not to stop at all.
There came a point when I just wanted it to be over. I wasn’t in extreme pain or anything,
but I had been running for over 20 hours, and it was cold and black outside, and I was all alone. I
think that was when I grew stronger. The situation forced me to be patient. Even though I had 24
miles to go, I simply forgot about all that. It really didn’t matter. All I had to do was run. I
realized that life is full of all kinds of pain- physical and emotional. If we only dwell on the pain,
we forget to live. So I chose to live. I ran.
When I got back to Argyle road at mile 86, it was incredibly hilly. I joined some other
runners, and we walked together up the hills, jogging on the way down. Soon, I was left with a
runner named Lisa. We gave each other support and talked for a while as we continued up and
down the hills. The sense of camaraderie was quite helpful.
My feet were incredibly soar by this point. Each step felt like a sledge hammer was
pounding on them. But the objective remained simple: keep going.
By mile 96, the hills had lessened. I was at the last aid station, and I made up my mind. I
would run as fast as I reasonably could for the last four miles. I was ready to finish. So I got up
and ran. The route lead back into town, and it twisted through the streets, along the creek, past
the Dairy Queen, and finally up to the finish line. I had finished running 100 miles in 28 hours
and 14 minutes, and I felt great.
I went and sat down for a while, then took a shower and changed into some clean clothes.
Some other ultra-marathoners visited with me. Many seemed intrigued by my age. I was visiting
with one man when all-of-a-sudden, my ears started ringing like crazy, my hearing faded so that
all I could hear was a faint muffle, and my vision blurred. I knew I would pass out if I didn’t sit
down soon. I sort of shuffled over to a chair, and I soon found myself being helped into a cot by
an emergency medical technician and my father. I tried to tell them that I felt fine, but they
insisted that I lay down in the cot. The EMT told me that I was dehydrated, and this was causing
a lack of blood flow to my brain. She made me drink what was probably half a gallon of water,
and several cups of chicken broth. The rapid intake of fluids made me feel very cold, but all-inall,
I felt amazing for having just run 100 miles.
My parents drove me to Fargo, ND. I mostly slept in the car. When I arrived in Fargo, I
got to a hotel room and slept about 2-3 hours. Then I got up the next morning, ready to start my
career as a college student at North Dakota State University.
I think I found myself again.