Sixty-seven Reston Runners and 60 volunteers, to crew for and support the runners, came to Boonsboro, Maryland for the start of the 44th JFK 50 miler. I came too -- to prove to myself that at 73 years of age, I could complete the "ultra" in less than eleven hours, the goal I set for myself.  I achieved my objective, but only by seconds! And I became the oldest Reston Runner to finish the 50 miler. To no one's surprise, all 67 runners finished this year. Over 200 Reston Runners have run the JFK over the years and only 11 did not finish.

The crew teams wore themselves out driving from point-to-point along the course to provide whatever was needed by the runners they supported -- special drinks, food, change of clothes or shoes, band-aids, Advil or even a foot massage -- and to shout and scream encouragement as their runners arrived at each crew station stop.   "If you train for and run a Fall marathon, your JFK50 preparation is complete," said the JFK50 touts. I signed up for the race in August but then I didn't even want to think about the JFK until after I had completed the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM.) My rigorous marathon training schedule took my total running concentration. After finishing fourth in my age group in the Marathon, there were three weeks to go, and then and only then did I begin to focus on the ultra-marathon.

I asked the experienced JFK 50 experts for their advice on running strategy. Al, resident Reston Runner expert, strongly recommended, "Conserve your strength, take it easy and walk the steep hills on the Appalachian Trail (AT), the first narrow, rocky 16-mile portion. Then run non-stop on the C&O Canal Towpath, a flat gravel 26 mile section.  Continue running hard the final eight-mile paved portion over gently rolling hills to the finish.  Another said, " When you get to the towpath, Run 10 minutes/Walk one minute." Someone else suggested, "Run 5 minutes/Walk 1 minute;" Still another favored, "Run 5/Walk 2." There were other variations: "When you get to the paved portion, walk up every hill, no matter how slight." It was confusing and most proponents of one system or another were adamant that their running plan worked best.

I also asked the experienced ultra-marathoners, what training schedule to maintain for the three weeks between the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM) and the JFK? Al said, "Do no running at all, -- just efficiency training  --  run intervals or hills. Just recuperate from the marathon and conserve your strength for JFK." Others maintained a minimum running schedule for the first week after MCM, after which they followed the regular Reston Runner schedule of a midweek six mile run then regular weekend scheduled runs of five miles on Saturday and 10 miles on Sunday. Anna said, "Do no running for the three
weeks between the races. Nothing you can do can improve your time -- and you only weaken yourself by running. Just walk briskly and do exercise workouts." Again, this is confusing  -- because it all makes sense. I came to the scheduled Reston Runner run/walks on weekends. But I saw many planning to do the JFK, were there to run. Not many seemed to adhere to Al's "No Distance Running" regime. But even Anna was there the last weekend running eight and a half miles. I mixed and matched. I walked a few mornings, ran occasional efficiency runs (two mornings for intervals and one morning for hills) -- and only two short distance runs -- five miles the first weekend and eight and a half the last weekend before the race.

Runners were instructed to pack and use duct tape to label two bags for the race the "RUN BAG," and the "BEFORE-AND-AFTER (BAA) BAG." My Run Bag contained changes of clothes and shoes for all weather possibilities, first aid supplies, toilet paper, Vaseline and special foods and drinks. I would give it to my support crew. I also packed a spray bottle of an Egyptian analgesic pain duller. My BAA bag contained clothes, medications, shaving and toothbrush supplies for Friday night and Saturday morning (Race Day) at the hotel, oatmeal, emergency hi-carbo breakfast favorites (in case our hotel, Comfort Suites, did not provide food,) towel and soap for shower at the Williamsport High School where the race ends and warm clothes to wear for the post-run meal and homeward trip. In addition, I packed and labeled a third bag "Race Day Clothes and Shoes (options depending on the weather) plus Advil pills and three types of gloves -- thick wool snowboarding mittens, double layer running mittens and white cotton gloves.

My Good Lady Ann, and Will Fraize, who would crew for me and another runner, Tom Patch, loaded a folding table and two chairs, a food bag for breakfast, lunch, snacks and beverages for them to consume during the full day, a bulging bag of their clothes with options for all weather possibilities. They would have to sit in the wind and cold (and possibly snow or rain) all day Saturday.

I was invited to a Brazilian Copacabana Night party Saturday evening but declined because I was running 50.2 miles that day. Nevertheless, I did pack a tropical shirt in my BAA bag and tucked a funky straw hat in the car trunk -- just in case! I specify 50 point 2 miles because that is the actual distance of the JFK 50 miler. The Point Two is important to mention because it is a couple of hundred yards and comes after 50 miles of running!

What to wear on race day preoccupied me when packing for the race. So I packed all kinds of technical shirts, heavy outer running shirts, two types of running jackets and three kinds of gloves. Friday night at the Hagerstown Pizza Hut carbo-loading dinner, attended by about 80 runners and crew -- in two shifts. I stuffed down pizza and pasta while asking anyone near me what they planned to wear the next morning. I got many conflicting opinions. The weather was to be close to ideal -- 35 degrees in the AM and warming to 51 degrees -- partly cloudy with some wind. Last year's temperature at starting time was 22 degrees. That's damned cold for runners and worse for crew -- but easy to plan what to wear. All runners were to wear a bright orange singlet. Crew could see Reston Runners (RR) coming into the Aid Station from a distance. Some runners planned to wear running shorts and a long sleeve shirt under the RR singlet. Some thought two long sleeve shirts and a vest; others would wear a running jacket to be removed and left with their crew when the day warmed up. Some would wear trail running shoes on the AT and change to regular running shoes on the tow-path, others said they would wear the same running shoes throughout. There was no consensus. One thing I knew at that point was that I would wear the same pair of running shoes throughout. I didn't want to waste time changing shoes.

My decision the night before was to wear two long-sleeved technical running shirts over each other under the orange singlet, long running pants, a running jacket, a wool cap and my warmest mittens. I was anticipating I would be cold. Also the thick mittens would be protection for my hands if I fell on the AT. I pinned my race number, #728, to the RR singlet, set out all my clothes and items I intended to carry on the race. I intended to wake at 3:30 AM and depart at 5:15 (with all the other runners at my hotel) to the Boonsboro High School (10 miles away) for photographs, briefings and last minute orientation in preparation for the 7 AM start. I needed time to poop, dress, eat and prepare.

I awoke at 1 AM. I couldn't get back to sleep. I remained in bed in the dark mulling over race strategy and what to wear. At about 3 AM, I got up, went to the bathroom to begin my Marathon Dressing Ritual that some compare to a bullfighter dressing or a knight or gladiator putting on armor before going into battle. After toilet and shaving, I followed my set routine of placing band-aids on my nipples and ankle bones to prevent chafing and nicking, put on my running outfit and shoes. There was a rumor that the hotel would provide early breakfast for the runners at 4 AM. I completed my dressing ritual, made a pot of coffee, micro-waved and ate my oatmeal in the room. With nothing else to do, I went to the dining area with the intention of going outside in my running outfit to test it in the weather.

I thought I would be the only person up that early. But there was Donna in her pajamas eating her cereal and Tim, barefoot, and bent over -- peeking in the kitchen refrigerator for food. I walked outside. It didn't seem too cold -- someone said it was 37 degrees.  Tim walked outside, still barefoot. I observed the hotel flags waving in the mild wind. I asked others that came in for breakfast their plans. "Running Vest versus Running Jacket?," I asked There were pros and cons. I felt the running jacket the better choice for me. I could tie it around my waist when it warmed up. I kept walking outside and back in -- peeling off a layer at a time. Some of the experienced runners in the dining room were dressed in running shorts, a long sleeve shirt and baseball cap. When the time came to pack up and depart for Boonsboro, I finally decided what to wear: one long-sleeve shirt under the orange singlet, a running jacket and mittens. It might be too little -- but it felt comfortable in the morning air in front of the hotel.

Now, very close to the front of the start line on Boonsboro's main street, I drank the last of the water I previously put in the wide-necked Gatorade bottle. I discreetly put the empty bottle inside my running tights and drained the last of my body fluids into it, screwed the top tightly and tossed it into the garbage bin on the sidewalk.

The race started at 7 AM sharp and I moved out too fast. I was huffing and stressing so I slowed down to a much slower pace. Several Reston Runners came from behind and I ran with them -- Tim, Donna, Anna, Diane, Ellen, Christina and others. All the faster Reston Runners passed by with a shout. About eight of us found a common pace, ran in a pack and talked and joked. Then we came to the first steep hill. We walked (and talked) for a long time up a never-ending hill trying to keep a fast walking pace. It seemed that we were walking almost as fast as some of the runners ahead of us. At least we were conserving our strength. Soon we left the pavement and after a slight downhill started to run/walk up the Appalachian Trail (AT.)

The treacherous AT was narrow and we often had to run single file and to jump on and over large jagged rocks that were all sizes and were at all angles. It made for precarious running. I ran head down, carefully looking where I went. I jumped and stepped to avoid large rocks, always watching where the person ahead placed his foot. Two days before there were hurricane winds and rain. The ground was wet and leaves covered many rocks; the largest rocks protruded ominously. While the surface leaves appeared dry, there were wet leaves underneath. I was in Asics 2010 running shoes and my feet took a pounding jumping on rocks, stepping carefully all the time. At all steep hills, we walked.  Tim and I stayed together for a while and we conversed during all the walking interludes.  It was difficult to keep up our conversation when walking or running single file but we managed to pass the time for a long time.

We came to the first Aid station at about four miles. Young, Tim's crew support, was there for him. I took off my running jacket, passed it to Young as I ran by and asked him to give it to Ann when he saw her. I grabbed a cup of water. Tim and I kept going. He gradually pulled away from me and I ran alone.

At some point along a level stretch, I tripped and fell -- a header. My arms flung out and I had a relatively soft landing --  no rocks -- and landed on my left hand and knee. I banged the palm of my hand and I thought the skin might have been scraped but I didn't take off my glove to look. I got up and kept running. I had a sharp pain in my left knee but it gradually subsided. I kept running -- and walking whenever I got to steep hills.  I slipped, made many missteps and twisted my ankle several times while jumping, stepping, slipping and running over the jagged rocks. Early on, I felt the beginning of a nagging groin pain, probably from a misstep on slippery leaves or from the previous fall.

I heard cheering ahead. That signaled another Aid station. It was good to see Ann and Will there waiting for me and cheering. Further down was the Aid station so I grabbed a cup of Gatorade and decided to mostly continue drinking the power drink instead of water for the rest of the day. I was running well, I thought, and felt good. This was Gathland at 9.4 miles and I had been running about two hours -- a 13 minute a mile pace.  I was on track for a sub-11 hour run.

I continued on the Appalachian Trail being careful not to have another header. I recognized I could crack open my skull if it struck one of those many sharp, menacing monster rocks. I tried to run respectfully and cautiously.

My feet were taking a pounding running and jumping on the rocks. I recently made a commitment to my friends in Egypt. I agreed to join them in racing the Rome Marathon in March 2007. That course is relatively flat but there are many cobblestone streets to traverse. My friends were already complaining about how painful the cobblestones will be. I kept thinking, "Wait 'till I tell Mohsen and the Maadi Runners Club about the pain from pounding the damned rocks on this trail.

I was thinking too much and not concentrating.

I slipped on a rock, flung my arms up and out, caught my balance and grabbed a tree to stabilize myself.   'Great recovery!' shouted someone from behind. I haven't seen such fancy footwork since  'Dancing With the Stars!" shouted another.

At about 15 miles we started the steep downhill at Weverton Cliffs that is known for its treacherous switchbacks. I remembered Loretta's advice for running the ATand especially this portion: "Watch your footing. Don't maintain eye contact with anyone or
you're sure to take a header." The steep downhill tempted me to run faster -- but there were still lots of rocks to jump over, on or between.

I slipped on a rock and went down on my backside banging my left hand again. I got up quickly and kept a fast pace down grabbing a tree to swing around a switchback to stay on the trail. It was a steep downhill -- very exciting and exhilarating. Below and through the trees, I could hear the sounds of the hundreds of crew support below shouting and cheering those coming off the cliff path. Soon I too ran down and into the level area andheard the cheers for me -- and then saw Ann and Will.

I checked my watch -- 3 hours and 36 minutes. I was still on track for under-11 hours.  Ann came running to me with two Advil pills in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She ran with me to her card table where she had set out the first aid kit, clothing changes and all my supplies of GU's, power bars, nuts, pretzels and salted boiled potatoes. I opted for just one boiled potato and replaced my heavy mittens with white cotton gloves. I noticed I had scraped some skin on the palm of my hand. Not too bad.  Only a little blood. "The Red Badge of Courage," I thought. I picked up my bottle of Magic Spray, an Indomethacin solution -- analgesic spray -- that I stored in a cell phone holder. Ann wrapped it around my upper arm with a velco-strap. I planned to spray my groin if the pain persisted. I wolfed down the potato and walked back to get a cup of hot potato soup -- and walked on by myself spooning hot soup and enjoying the walk time.  Later a woman commented to Ann that she thought I was eating a raw potato, "Is that something new for runners?" she asked.

I climbed the path along the side of a hill and eventually came to the regular Aid station. I picked up a cup of Gatorade set out on a table, and drank it. On the way out of the station, I picked up two wrapped peanut butter and jelly half sandwiches that were offered. I ate one sandwich and drank some Gatorade. I threw the cup and plastic wrappers in a receptacle. As I entered the 26 mile C&O Towpath part of the course, I slowly ate the second sandwich but the thick, dry peanut butter balled up and lodged in my throat. I was feeling bad and without a drink, couldn't swallow the sticky ball of peanut butter. I couldn't run until I got it out. I tried to cough it out. Finally, I begged a drink from a woman walking by, took a couple of sips and my throat cleared.

I resumed running. A young runner passed me and shouted, "Is that a bottle of hair spray strapped to your arm? Wanna look good for the photographers?" Not in any shape to come up with a clever quip, all I could think of to say was, "You say that to all the guys," with a bent wrist wave. He was wise cracking about my Magic Spray bottle.

I had been running on the AT earlier with Rodney, Keith's brother. He caught up with me on the towpath and we ran together. We discussed a plan for the upcoming boring 26 mile section. I suggested we use the next milepost marker to time our pace for the first full mile -- and use that as a pace plan with a one minute walk between. The first mile of running on the towpath took about 10 minutes so we followed a Run 10/Walk 1 regime for a long time. After a few miles Rodney dropped back and I ran on alone. This was very boring running.

Getting off the rocks of the trail was great. The towpath was gravel and mostly level -- but the soles of my feet were sore from hours of pounding on the rocky trail. And there were leaves covering many sections of the towpath. I kept my eyes peeled for possible objects under the leaves. Although the towpath was mostly level and boring, it was stressful running. There was a lot of pretty scenery along the river on this partly cloudy day but I didn't dare look up to enjoy it.

I fell. Another header. I went down. My arms flung out and I crashed and slid into the gravel with a scraping sound. I thought there's sure to be blood from the right knee and elbow scrape. And the left arm took another hit and so did the left knee. I guess I had stumbled over my feet or didn't lift them up. Leaves covered the level towpath where I fell. A couple of runners came up and gave me their hands to get me up. I thanked them and started running. Soon I passed them.

I had to run 26 miles on this damned monotonous towpath. I couldn't enjoy the scenery or risk falling again. I made a mental promise to myself that if I fell one more time, I would stop running and crew from then on.

I was running the 10/1 regime but the walk sometimes got longer than a minute. I often looked at my stopwatch expecting to see that I had already run 7 to 8 minutes. But it actually was only 2 or 3 minutes. I thought my watch was broken because it felt I had run much longer. But the one minute walk time passed in a flash. I didn't think to change my running regime. I was definitely slowing down but meanwhile miles were passing.

At about milepost 63, I caught up to two men running and walking. I pulled alongside and gabbed with them to break my monotony. Paul Betker, 62 years old, was running his 25th consecutive JFK 50 miler with Michael Conner, both from Hagerstown. He told me running stories including his 8:39 race in 1991. They were running a 3/2 regime: Run 3 minutes/Walk 2. I asked if they minded if I ran along with them. After a couple of series, I found I was running easily and relatively fast during the three minute portion and enjoying the deliciously long two-minute quick walk. They explained their 3/2 regime worked out to a 12 minute pace. I asked, "If I stay with you guys, will we finish in under-11 hours"? "Sure," said Pete, "It's very possible." I told them the story of the two women I ran with on my first JFK 50 in 1998. The women had said, "Stay with us Jerry and we'll get you in under-10 hours." We went over by a couple of minutes. I finished in 10 hours and 2 minutes. Pete confidently said, "If nothing unusual happens, we'll get in under 11 hours."

I ran with Pete and Mike for several miles. It was a great pace. I felt very invigorated and ran energetically and we kicked it when we walked. I was feeling so good I picked up the running pace. Mike, about 45 years old, stayed with me. After a while, Pete was falling back. He said he was slowing us down, and that we should go on without him.  Mike pulled back to stay with his friend. At about milepost 73, I pushed and pulled way ahead of them.

I was now running alone and feeling great running three minutes and enjoying the two minute walk. This was just the opposite of the 10/1 regime. Now when I felt I had run about two minutes, my stop watch showed I was pretty close to the time. I could easily count down the remaining 60 or so seconds. And the walk part felt very long. When walking, I often felt I was almost at two minutes and looked at my watch. But only 40 or 50 seconds had passed. I could enjoy the walk longer. I loved it. It was luxurious and when I hit the two minute mark on my watch, I was ready to push off and run strong.  I was coming into the Mile 38 Reston Runners station at 3:20 PM feeling ok after running almost eight and a half hours. My Good Lady Ann had made a huge banner on long poles with my name as well as Tom Patch for whom she and Will were crewing. There was Jerry B. holding up the two poles and jumping and waving the banner. Ann was there to give back my running jacket for the last push -- soon I would be running in the cool of the evening. I took two Advil pills and continued walking along the path -- 20 yards further to the 38 Special Aid station. This community group gets First Place Award every year for the Best Aid Station. They offered a wide variety of foods including tomato soup and cream cheese and bagels. I couldn't take time to stop and decide what to select from the long line of tables so I stuck to my usual -- potato chips, pretzels and Gatorade. By this time, I had passed 10 of 14 Aid stations and was at the fourth of five Reston Runner stops. The sun was getting low in the sky and it was getting cold.  I thought to myself, "Only 12 miles to go!" "Only? -- That's almost a half marathon!" I was still on track for a sub-11 hour race. But I had to get through four more miles on the towpath and the eight mile final stretch run -- the most difficult part of the course on hills and pavement when the body is the most tired.

Soon, the towpath ended and a reflective vest was placed over my chest to wear for the last eight miles of the race. I could barely lift my arms for the pretty volunteer who struggled to put the vest on me. I was now alone and running on pavement. Before I could enjoy the change in terrain, I turned a corner and before me was the steepest and longest hill. The course description refers to the final eight miles as rolling hills. I walked that hill and every other hill. Even the speed bumps seemed too steep. I jogged the level stretches and all down-hills. I wasn't following any running regime except "walk the hills slowly and slow jog when the notion struck me." I was out of steam.  Bill, the Animal, was at the "7 miles to go" sign with his camera ready to get a photo of his girl friend, Kim, and shouted to me "Pick up your pace!" Who needed that crack?  By the "6 miles to go" sign, Pete and Mike, the Hagerstown runners, passed me while I was walking! They were going strong on their 3/2 regime. I fell in behind them and tried to keep up for a couple of miles. It was amazing that I could. They were running up hills and I was surprised I was actually keeping up with them. As it got dark, they pulled way ahead and I ran alone. I was getting cold. I didn't want to stop. I kept looking at my watch and calculating if I could make it to the finish before 6 PM. The soles of my feet
ached and I plodded on. Every so often when a car passed, I held up my watch to check the time in the headlights.

With each mile marker I was running slower. Soon I was running 14 minute miles but plodding on. I did not think to bring a light so there were times when I ran in the dark following the orange cones that marked the course. There were Aid stations every two miles and I walked into each and stopped to drink water, Gatorade and potato chips and then slowly walked on. It hurt to resume jogging but I did. The mile signs seemed to be further and further apart. Eventually I passed the three miles marker, then two miles and finally one mile to go.

Now there were helpers on the course with flashlights and words of encouragement. I asked, "Where's the Finish Line?" "See those lights in the distance? That's it! You're almost there." I slugged on running slowly. I heard the distant loud speaker blaring,
"And here comes still another Reston Runner." Our orange shirts were visible from a distance. And I heard the loud speaker announce a runner crossing the line, not me. Brilliant white lights! I could see the finish clock but not the numbers. I ran and got
closer. It read 10 hours and 58 minutes -- and seconds were ticking by. I picked up the pace and shuffled across the finish line. I looked up and saw: 10:59:19. I achieved my goal. And a bonus. I was third place in my age division!

My white cotton gloves were dirty from my fall. As I walked with Ann toward the High School, I saw there was a big splotch of dried blood on the glove from a bleeding knuckle. Today, I really did earn my Red Badge of Courage.

I carried my clothes bag into the High School, took a hot shower, cleaned and bandaged my still bleeding knees, elbow and hand scrapes. And believe it or not, after showering Iput on my tropical shirt and jeans. Ann, still in her crewing clothes, and
incredulous that I really wanted to party, drove us directly from Williamsport High School to Fernando's Copacabana party in Reston for dinner and drinks among the many guests in tuxedos and fancy dress. Of course, I wore my Finisher's Medal at the party.

I'll start planning soon for my next JFK 50 miler. That's right. It will be in eight years!  My Lady Ann said,"I'll be there too -- but probably with a walker!"