62 outer edge

tnf 100 going to extremes

www.outer-edge.com.au 63

g

Our man catches up – and tries to keep up – with ultra runner Dean Karnazes in the TNF 100.Story Chris Ord imageS Mark Watson & Lyndon Marceau

Going for a jog with American Dean Karnazes is like going for a swim with Grant Hackett, or hitting a tennis ball with Rafael Nadal. It’s asking for punishment of the most brutal kind.

This is the man famous for running 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days. He then ran back across the United States to get home to his wife and kids. But he’s more than your average marathoner. Most of his runs are off road and extreme.

Last year, 47-year-old Dean won the 4Deserts Challenge, encompassing four 250km races traversing the world’s four harshest deserts: the Gobi, Atacama, Sahara and Antarctic. He has run further than any other human being in recorded history. Recently he announced that he was going to run a marathon in every country on the planet.

The man eats, breathes and sleeps running…literally. He carries a credit card so he can order pizza and Chinese take away on the run, and recalls often falling asleep while running. Once he woke up as he was veering into the middle of a busy road.

Ultra-marathon Man does have a human side, you just need to go back to the genesis of his obsession. At the age of 30, with a glittering corporate career bolstered by an MBA and a promotion, Dean found himself peering into the bottom of a tequila glass ruing life as a suit. However successful, he was running on empty.

At the bottom of that tequila glass, many men might find the inspiration to simply order another round. He, on the other hand, found the will to go for a life-affirming run. Even then, while regular folk would wait until the morning hangover had slunk off before running toward a better life, Dean laced up and hit the pavement then and there, in the dark, leaving a wake of tequila vapours and his old life behind to trot out an impromptu 30 miles (48km). No training.

Kilometre 54 Unlike 17 years ago, Dean’s not ambling out for a leisurely jog when I join him. He’s mid-race, slogging it out in The North Face 100, an endurance trail run that leads competitors through the prettiest, but most leg-demolishing sections of the Blue Mountains National Park.

The TNF 100 traverses 100km of high peaks and low fern-flushed gullies, fire trails and walking tracks, including a decent length of the notorious Six Foot hiking trail. The total vertical ascent is 4500 metres, and runners do the same back down.

Does he really want me puffing and panting next to him, spluttering out questions as we go? It’s like wandering onto the court during the Australian Open shouting, “Hey Raffa – mind if we go doubles while we chat?”

Dean’s not happy. A human fallibility at odds with his inhuman running machine reputation has spilled out. It’s hard to hide blood. “Took a tumble not far back,” he says, taking five at the midway checkpoint. “Smashed my knee on a rock.”

It’s here that team-based competitors pass the baton to their running partner. A crowd has gathered, but Dean doesn’t see them. He’s hurting. You can see it in his face. “I’ll be honest, I’ve got nothing left. Not sure I can go on. Just need some sleep.”

I’m not one to scoff in the face of a Great Man’s vulnerability, but I’m thinking “Bollocks to that – I’ve got a story to get, a job to do.”

Technically, so does he – he’s paid to be here, to run as a publicity machine.

A medic tends his wound and I introduce myself as the village idiot who wants to run alongside him for a short stretch. “How far’s the next checkpoint?” he asks anyone in earshot. The chorus of answers from assembled fans, as though making a great offering to a noble but not easily impressed king, is typical of the Karnazes factor. He gathers an adoring crowd wherever he goes. People cheer him into checkpoints, pine for his autograph, banter with him like they’re old mates. Apparently, the cult of celebrity stretches to ultra runners. Later in the day, talking to other competitors,

it seems that at least two in every three have entered because of him, most having read his best seller Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner. The adoration extends to the many websites devoted to him.

“Every time I read your book, I want to just lace up my shoes and go run!” says Kate who has either only gone for one run or really should buy a new book before she wears the pages – and herself – out. I’d suggest 50/50: Secrets I Learned Running 50 Marathons in 50 Days, Dean’s second book.

So how to stop this man, the fuel to so many other runners’ fires, the man who never quits, from quitting a race he’s guest of honour at? How do you inspire an inspirer?

So what if he ran a 325km race last weekend in the States. So what if he didn’t get off his fourteen-hour flight from LA to Sydney until yesterday? Jetlag shmetlag.

It’s at this point I recall something of Dean’s running philosophy: he argues that the first half of any race is run with one’s body, and the second half with the mind. We’re sitting at the halfway point. Time to switch engines, Dean.

The answer to his checkpoint question is 11km. I suggest that perhaps he push on for a ‘measly’ eleven so we can chat. Something clicks, and for a beaten man about to sleep, a gear changes. A glint flashes in his eye, the sparkling All American teeth flash and, after a peruse of the carbo-loaded table, we’re away.

For Dean, 11km is a cinch. For me, on no training – not to mention no breakfast – it’s a marathon.

Kilometre 54.5 One of the world’s best-known ultra-marathoners says he wants my quads. For an instant I’m flattered, but he’s simply drawing a mental boost from the thought of refreshed thighs. How my chicken legs could possibly provide any mental comfort I couldn’t tell you, but my inflated ego now believes I can crack this 11km.

Ten minutes later we stop to inspect Dean’s bulging calves as they convulse with what looks like a million maggots running their

running on

Recently Dean announced that he was going to run a marathon in every country on the planet.

64 outer edge

going to extremes tnf 100 Tough mindsStrong bodiesBig hearts www.mindaustralia.org.au

Mind Alpine ChallengeIncorporating the Alpine Skyrun and the Elmtree Corporate & Team Challenge20 – 22 March 2010

The Mind Alpine Challenge will test you to the limit as you traverse some of the toughest and most exposed areas of Victoria’s stunning Alpine National Park and push your personal limits.

Whilst you will be doing it tough, your efforts will be supporting Mind’s clients who work hard every day to rebuild their lives, as they recover from mental illness.

Categories Enter either the 100 mile or 100km events as:Solo endurance runner2-4 person endurance team: running/walking the entire distance together4-8 person relay team: running/walking different stages in pairs (due to cut-offs, the 100 mile event is only open to runners)

Event scheduleFri 19 March 18:30 Registration/briefing/dinnerSat 20 March 04:30 Race start Mon 22 March 04:30 Race cut offMon 22 March 08:30 Presentations

To register visit www.mindaustralia.org.au

Imagine 4 marathons in 48 hours! Choose your challenge in support of Mind – the 100km Elmtree Corporate & Team Challenge or the 100 mile Alpine Skyrun, both open to teams and solo participants. Be part of this challenge and commit to as little as 15km in a relay team or up to 160km as an endurance runner.

100 km

48 hours

1 experience of a lifetime

100 miles

The course was tough... and we navigated the highest mountains in Victoria... I had my doubts at moments... But there was no way I was going to quit!Jessica, first female to complete the 2009 Alpine Challenge

Proudly supported by

Runners descending Mt Feathertop, March 2009

own under-skin ultra. “Want my calves, too?” Dean’s steely glare confirms my doubts about the genuine nature of his quad coveting. It’s getting dark. We run on.

In his book, Dean writes of his calling: “It wasn’t acclaim I craved, but adventures that involved out-of-body experiences, intense pain, nights without sleep, and a supreme sense of accomplishment.”

“It’s good that you’re with me now,” says Dean, getting his wish. “You’re seeing me at my worst, at my lowest. I’m nearly falling asleep, hallucinating, I wanna quit. This is what it’s all about.”

“When I’m pushing and I’m in pain and I’m struggling to go on, in that struggle I think something wonderful happens, a magic. I’m never more alive than moments like now. I’m not a religious man, but I find something higher, something pure when I push myself to these limits.”

Kilometre 67 Espressos do not count as performance enhancing in the sport of ultra running. Sitting in a café near the Blue Mountains’ famous Three Sisters, the only thing that sets us apart from the other customers is the running shorts and hydropacks hanging off our backs. In Dean’s books, pacing yourself legitimately includes stopping all together and if you’re going to stop, there may as well be choc chip cookies and macaroons involved.

Perhaps it’s the caffeine, could be the surreal nature of discussing our kids over a cuppa while mid race, or maybe the promise by Dean that, despite a serious lack of conditioning, my body should be able to ‘survive’ the folly I’m about to undertake – I agree to continue on to the next checkpoint 22km away. The leg alone is 10km more than I’ve ever run in my life. Make that a double espresso, please. Good thing is, Dean’s

stopped talking about sleeping and started talking about finishing.

Leaving the safety of the barista’s bemused stare, we trot off along clifftops backed by car parks, down sets of steel stairs more used to the patter of Japanese and German tourists on daytrips than the clobber of lactic-laced runners’ legs. The view would take my breath away if I had any. Leaving the safety of handrails we delve into a wilderness not typically experienced by daytrippers. It’s a 600metre-plus drop to the damp forest floor, roots and streams and wayward branches all tugging at concentration otherwise occupied by the incredibly complex task of throwing one foot ahead of the other in succession.

Bantering as we push on, Dean predicts the race record won’t be touched. “This is without doubt the toughest 100km trail run on the planet,” he says. “And with Andrew Kromar [last year’s winner and race favourite] pulling out [due to an ankle injury] I can’t see how

anyone will get close.” Turns out he’s wrong. The eventual race winner, first-timer Andrew Lee, (above left) finishes in 10.20.51, two minutes faster than last year’s record. I reckon he must train.

Dean is never in contention. “I’m never a chance to win a 100km race,” he says. “Too slow.” His preferred ‘winning’ distance is anything over 250km. “That’s when my mental and physical capabilities come to the fore.” His physical capabilities have been studied: the secret to his injury-free – until now – running is perfect balance and alignment of his musculoskeletal rigging.

His mental rigging is still unchartered. He threw away the security of a steady job, uppercrust wage and so-called career prospects to make a living from ultra-running, a marginal sport where prize purses barely cover the flights, let alone mortgages and family health insurance.

“That’s where the MBA and marketing experience comes in handy,” he says. His books, appearance fees and speaking engagements allow Dean to pursue running. The real cost is a punishing training regime of a marathon a day, and then a few longer runs for weekend fun.

Kilometre 79 The lush ferny greens turn to grey then pitch black as the last of the light steals away to the west, leaving the blackness to swallow straggling runners who are mounting headlamps. One of them – the one who should be sipping cab sav on a flight home right about

This is gonna hurt. Outer Edge deputy editor Chris Ord (rear left) realises what he’s in for as Dean Karnazes powers ahead.

www.outer-edge.com.au 67

ENTRIES NOW OPENDon’t miss out on the most exhilarating new running event in 2009

From the creators of the Tough Bloke Challenge comes an event guaranteed to be the most fun you’ll have with your pants on!

The MUDRUN is a cross country run with challenging natural and muddy obstacles set amongst one of the most picturesque valleys on the NSW Central Coast. Just one hour’s drive from Sydney, the course

will traverse beautiful native forests, grasslands, creeks and, as the name suggests – mudfl ats!

Runners of all ages and abilities can participate in the MUDRUN’s full 12km course or 6km half course

WWW.MUDRUN.COM.AU Have you got what it takes?

Event contact: Henry van Heerden; email: henry@maxadventure.com.au; mobile: 0423 735 779.

NSW CENTRAL COAST 5TH DECEMBER 2009

now – is re-thinking his impromptu extra leg in the dark. Perhaps sensing a publicity disaster – ‘Journalist Lost Covering Ultra Adventure’ – but more likely because the ultra-running crowd is an ultra-friendly one, The North Face Marketing Manager, Stephen Winnacott, passes me his spare light. His generosity doesn’t extend to carrying hapless media types through the bush and he soon disappears ahead, his reserves the reward of …training.

My creaking knees are protesting at the lack thereof and they start to seize up. Just as Dean seems to be awakening from his sleep-running, my body should be put to sleep, such are its failings. I walk backwards up a hill to keep the pain at bay. Other body parts burn with agitation. If only someone had advised me the number one rule of ultras: always use Vaseline between your cheeks.

Kilometre 86A common notion among marathoners is that you hit the physical wall at kilometre 32. By my count, for me, that’s now. Yet even if I wanted to I can’t stop – we’re still 3km from the next and final checkpoint. Between us and the finish is nothing but dense bushland, gorges, rivers and enough anguish to flood them all. The breakdown baton has long passed from Dean to me. The banter between us, ebbing and flowing for most of the trail, has run dry. Dean has shed his human skin to reveal one of steel.

It’s the flip side of many extreme athletes. Personable, approachable day-to-day, but get them in their zone and you’ll encounter a cold, even arrogant alter ego. Dean is no different. Reviewing Dean’s book, John Medinger (who is also a friend of Dean’s) writes: “The most serious flaw is that he initially comes across…as overly egotistical. He crows about being ‘ripped like a prize fighter’ and having ‘less than five percent body fat.’ Deeper into the book he becomes more self-effacing, but the initial impression remains. This is ultimately ironic because in real life Karnazes – while hardly lacking in self-confidence – is caring and genuine.”

Kilometre 95The mental wall strangles you at 40km, after which, they say, every kilometre in a marathon feels like the first forty. ‘They’ obviously haven’t done a marathon over mountains. 5km to go. It may as well be 500km.

Dean knows he’s escaped the sting of failure. Feeling the pull of the finish line he pads off ahead of me. My sense of comradery pushes me to stick with him but he’s gone into superhuman mode. I’ve melted into all too human mode. I plod. I throw my limbs forward. Dean’s not coveting them now and I’m positively hating them. My jog recedes to a stumble, which falls submissively to a hobble. No one in front, no one clomping behind. The only sign that I’m not completely lost is the little reflective ribbons that mark the course. They seem to be falling down. Then I realise: the trail is plunging into a ravine. There are no lights, no finishing line crowd noise from the inky morass of trees lining the river far below. This can’t be happening.

I try every trick in the book. I turn the distance into football fields. Ten laps to go. That’s a warm up. Except I’m already overheated. The trees captured in the throw of my headlamp go fuzzy. I want to sleep.

Am I asleep? That step looks awfully comfy. Perhaps I can nap a while? No. Never stop. Dean said that. You stop, that’s it. Perhaps this is just one of those dreams – the ones where you’re trying your hardest to run but your legs won’t obey, except in ultra-slow motion. Is this real? Is this what Dean does for a living? For pleasure?

The reflective ribbons rise up. One foot. The next. Forward. A ridge. I’m moving toward something. It’s as though I’m in a dark tunnel with a bright light at the end. There’s a giant gate in the middle, bathed in light. Strange. It’s like a blow-up castle. Oh it has The North Face plastered all over it.

Kilometre 100Cramps shoot up my legs just as I collapse over the line. Where’s Dean? I’m here for an interview. Already tucked up in his luxury hotel room as it happens. I hope he’s having nightmares about an idiot journalist’s quads being transplanted for his.

Log on to outer-edge.com.au or youtube.com/outeredgemag to see an extended interview with Dean. The next TNF 100 will be on 15 May 2010. Entries open in December. thenorthface.com.au.

When I’m pushing and I’m in pain and I’m struggling to go on, in that struggle I think something wonderful happens, a magic. I’m never more alive than moments like now.

tnf 100 going to extremes