An Introduction To Ultra
A First…But By No Means Last
By Chris Fleck
To some it may seem extreme—to others routine—but for me, running and finishing an ultra marathon was an experience that unquestionably lived up to the anticipation and reward I had visualized for months during training.
After five months of preparation, on August 30, 2014, I completed the Hawaiian Ultra Running Team (H.U.R.T.) Tantalus Triple Trek; a 30 mile ultra-marathon on the Tantalus Mountain trail system on the island of Oahu. It was an intense ride with moments of pure running, as I flowed up, over, and with the rocky, root-scattered course with relative ease. And, as it’s an ultra with 7,200-plus feet of elevation gain, there were rightfully grueling stretches that bordered on the side of agony. I did my best to live in the moment throughout, connecting to the trail and task at hand. What transpired was more than I could’ve imagined. I was able to (no idea how) dart through the finish with a 6 hour and 5 minute completion time, and what was never a fathom of a thought before hand, place in the top 10.
Here’s a look at how this played out. But first, why in the hell am I running and climbing mountains 30 miles at a time in the first place?
Enough Was Enough:
For years I lived in a state of sub-conscious fear. On the outside I was perceived as composed and calm, but on the inside I was a wreck. I was lost and unsure. I would compare myself to others constantly, and become frustrated, aggravated or disheartened by my personal or professional situation. Coupling, or perhaps driving those sentiments, was that something I once enjoyed, something that was once a light-hearted, fun part of my life throughout high school and college escalated, and in the simplest way of stating it, lost it’s luster, but remained as a destructively growing facet in my life. Self-initiated arguments and fits, lost jobs, numerous legal circumstances, gut-wrenching hangovers, untimely and all too often drinking justifications weren’t enough for me to understand internally, that I had a demoralizing drinking problem, no if, ands, or buts about it. When I did finally realize and was able to admit it, the throes of addiction were tightly gripped, clenching and refuting my petty attempts to quit.
The turning point to awakening was bright, but taking those steps (which I had no idea I was doing) to and through that proverbial gate was an emotional distress I never knew existed, and would never wish upon anyone. Ravaged by emotional torment and anxiety, shaky, nervous and frightened I made a choice — on what I thought was just an average day in September 2009 — to let go of that destructive part of my life, with not a clue what was to happen next.
With the help of many, days began to separate themselves from my last drink. I was still fidgety and skeptical, but through words of encouragement was beginning to see and feel splinters of confidence lighting a path. A life without alcohol was possible. It was the best and only choice I really had, and I’ve never thought otherwise since.
It took many elements to keep me sober those first few months, and running became a part of my sobering experience. Not one week went by after my last drink did my roommate at the time ask if I’d like to head out on a run. I ran slightly in the past, mostly a mile or two for the purpose of sweating out leftover toxins, but never did I have the feelings that that first sober run provided.
I could barely run one mile at that point, but after finishing that first run around Kapiolani Park, I looked skyward at the night sky and smiled. That evening, for the first time in a long time I slept soundly and peacefully. I awoke ready to run again. I decided to set a goal right from the get go. I was going to complete my first trail half marathon and I had 10 weeks to prepare. Running began to fill some of the void that was left where the habit of alcohol once stood.
I knew I needed balance in my life and didn’t let running overtake as obsession, that wouldn’t have been productive at all. It was a supplemental part of the healing process and very much still is today. I was disciplined in following my training schedule, probably more so then I have been for other training timeframes. It was healthy for me to be accountable to myself, and that first half marathon was a goal I wanted to reach. A few short months later at stunning Kualoa Ranch on the island of Oahu’s North East shore, I completed the Xterra Trail half marathon, and knew there were going to be plenty of more races in my future.
Fast-forward nearly five years later and I’d like to say I’m living as the person I wanted to be. There are always lessons, challenges, failures, and progress to be made, but I’m taking strides to live up to my potential, in my journey to become the best version of myself, whether that is professionally, personally, or dare I say, spiritually.
Preparing To Climb My Tallest Mountain:
I’ve experienced plenty of living in recent years. Much positive, some negative, but all I’ve been able to view, process and appreciate with a clear-minded perspective, a truly living perspective. Not long after my first marathon I began reading books and blogs by running studs Scott Jurek, Hal Koerner, Dean Karnazes, and Timothy Olson. With each chapter of each book I became more and more taken to the sport of ultra running. I was of course impressed by their accomplishments, but even greater, I was becoming inspired and motivated by their descriptions of hardships they’ve faced and overcome both on and off the course. Beyond their physical and mental determination, it is the workings of the inner spirit that many times carried them through and continues to do so.
Through these sources, and conversations with a great college buddy who has taken to ultra running, I knew it was time for me to further challenge myself. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.
Training Begins:
For the majority of my previous marathon trainings I had run on my own, and still am perfectly comfortable with that. It’s a time when I can shut out the rest of the noise and just be. For the Tantalus Triple Trek training I wanted to connect to the culture of ultra running, I knew it would be good for me from a social and preparatory viewpoint.
I had heard stories about the infamous H.U.R.T. (Hawaiian Ultra Running Team) crew that formulated in the late 70s and early 80s. I researched their history, how initial H.U.RT. runners (Bill Carrol, John & PJ Salmonson, Max Telford, Sam Wong, akabill, Johnny Faerber, amongst many others) were inspirited by ancient Hawaiian kukini (running messengers) who would traverse the rugged landscape for great distances to deliver messages or to spy on enemy villages. As there were no official ultra distance races in Hawaii before H.U.R.T., the H.U.R.T. group began to coordinate their own. Like many running groups, they grew from a single digit crew to a widespread club, with now hundreds of HURT family members that reside both on the islands and throughout the world. The highlight of the H.U.R.T. team has to be their H.U.R.T. 100 miler, hosted each January in dense jungle climate.
I jumped in feet first in early 2014, getting involved with the H.U.R.T. spring/summer trail series, which features selective, customized, and increasingly more demanding races, culminating in the Tantalus Triple Trek 30 miler. I was welcomed into this ohana immediately, with now great friends introducing me to the courses and other H.U.R.T. members. I soaked up their stories and felt comfortable instantly. I began to meet more people, like Cheryl Loomis Calhoun and Randy Flores, and realized — although it may sound insane to those who don’t run ultra distances and terrain — it is a culture and hobby that is rewarding, healthy, and just plain fun, even with all of the muscle aches, scrapes, and bruises that coincide.
I wanted to be systematic with my training approach. I laid out a training spreadsheet and began recording each of my runs with notes about how I felt throughout those runs. Randy introduced me to the Triple Trek course, and his guidance and motivation played a major role in my race finish a few short months later.
Training for a race serves a great purpose. I tip my cap to those naturally-gifted long distance runners who make running seem effortless, but that’s just not me, and I’ve accepted that. To succeed in long distance races I have to work at technique and endurance building. There were days when I was amped to hit the trails before or after work, and there were others when running, even a few short miles was the last thing I wanted to do. I now understand how beautiful the art of practice really is.
As weekend long runs are imperative, I ran with a diverse group called Soul Runners Hawaii. Although coming from such a variety of backgrounds, we all have the common goal of improving our running skills and abilities, while enjoying ourselves in the process. From young mothers and fathers, college students, retirees, military members, business professionals, entrepreneurs, and more, I grew close to these soul runners and many of us now share the accomplishment of finishing our first ultra on the same course.
Training went beyond just running. Taking care of my body off the course was crucial. Sticking to a stretching and strengthening regimen was key. I also made a conscious effort to fuel myself with wholesome, real foods that would enhance my body’s performance and aid in its recovery. As an entrepreneur myself, I play a role in a company called Prime Protein Superfood. A plant-based protein and super food blend, Prime Protein Superfood played an integral part in my training, providing healthy snacks throughout my day, and definitely the perfect post run recovery fuel my body needed.
Two weeks prior to the race I completed my last extensive training run. I remember saying to myself afterwards, “Chris, you’re ready.” And I was, but those two weeks before the race seemed to last forever.
A Herd Of Hooting And Headlamps:
The Tantalus Triple Trek 30 mile course is positioned on the Honolulu Mauka (mountain) Trail System. The course consists of 3 ten-mile loops, each starting and ending at the same point. The loop itself begins just north of sea level, meandering and weaving upwards and then down, connecting in succession with various trails throughout. A technical course by most standards, Triple Trek is a continual path of either roots, rocks, mud, or a combination of the three. Elevation for each loop peaks at or around 2,400 feet, allowing for a total elevation gain of over 7,200 feet. As the region is categorized as a tropical rainforest, the course is flush with vibrant green vegetation and colorful flora of both native and invasive plant species. Having been able to train on the course I was well aware of the element of humidity, as it typically is a factor, particularly to those unfamiliar with the course. Each individual trail has a popular following among hikers, they’re just not typically all done in one sitting.
I had ebbs and flows of anxiety the days leading up to race morning, but I did as best I could to keep myself calm and composed from the inside out. And finally, after a half way decent night sleep, race morning arrived and I found myself standing in the dark at the Makiki Nature Center with about 100 others, just crazy enough to find some amount of pleasure running up and over mountains. As H.U.R.T. founder John Salmonson was concluding a pre-race briefing you could feel an electric anticipation. Hooting and hollering ensued, runners began to dance in place making the glow of headlamps seem like a posse of fireflies. Seconds later the 2014 Tantalus Triple Trek was underway.
With an understanding of the course, and with the guidance of those who had completed this race before, I had a strategy in place. I had broken each loop into three sections, with benchmark times for arrival. I did sneak up with the lead pack for the initial ascent, but did not over do it by any means. I trudged strongly up the first set of climbs. My legs were still a bit shaky with nervousness, but as I was able to separate myself a bit I began to run on a relatively flat stretch. I started to feel comfortable and kept instructing myself to take this thing one loop at a time. The first loop went accordingly. I made it to the peak at a great time.
Through training I learned that what had stalled my time was stopping too often. I stayed for only a brief moment at the one and only mid-loop aid-station at Tantalus Drive to gulp some water and be on my way. The key and motto to my game was to JUST KEEP MOVING. I traversed back down the descent at a steady pace, and ran miles 8 through 10 of the Makiki Valley trail stretch up and over the minor hills, and down the treacherous, root-laden Hogs Back section in training fashion. I completed the first loop in 1 hour 52 minutes, my best loop time ever.
What I was unprepared for, or what was unexpected was the awesomeness of the aid station volunteers. At the starting point they attended to me as if I was a guest at the Royal Hawaiian Resort, asking what I wanted to eat, and if they could fill my hydration pack, even going so far as to see if I wanted lukewarm or ice water… I chose ice water. I swigged a hearty amount of coconut water, ate a Clif Mojo bar, strapped my pack on and was on my way again.
As I passed a few runners finishing up their first loop we exchanged words of encouragement. Feeling mentally and physically strong at this point I trudged up that initial ascent on the Kanealole (Pipes) trail once more. Coming to a fork as I was about to pick up the pace up Makiki Valley Trail I ran into my comrade Randy Flores. He was directing traffic, and asked me how I was feeling. I told him I felt strong, and he ushered me off with a great point of advice to be sure and save some of that mojo for the third loop. I plopped that token of advice in my mental storage unit and continued on. About 5 miles into that second loop my stomach, out of nowhere began to feel queasy, a very unfamiliar feeling throughout my training. I deduced that I actually was eating too much. I dry heaved a few times, gathered my breath and continued on my way.
7 miles clicked by into the second loop and I didn’t waste too much time at the mid-loop aid station. I took down some watermelon, ate half of a bar and JUST KEPT MOVING. I rounded out the last section of the second loop surprisingly still feeling strong. My legs were beginning to feel the effects of bouncing in and around rocks and roots, but my mind was composed and no injuries were taking form.
Coming into the starting point once again I was notified I was sitting around 10th place, which I raised an eyebrow at, but didn’t pay too much attention to. I knew I was only two thirds finished. My training had culminated with a 22 mile run, so I was about to embark beyond any trail running limit I had ever experienced. And that final loop was absolutely an “experience”.
Let’s Get This Thing Done
The starting/finishing aid station was a life savior. Knowing my sodium levels were low I munched on a few salt covered potatoes, and stashed a few in my bag for later. I went through another 16 ounces of coconut water, changed my shirt quickly and strapped my pack back on. I remember not paying too much attention to anything around me at that point. I knew the last daunting 10-mile task that was before me, and concentrated my energies and focus to that.
Going up the Nature Center trail and Kanealole trail my legs felt just alright at this point. I passed Randy once again, but didn’t say much. With a thumbs up I continued up Makiki Valley Trail. On my way to the Moleka Trail turnoff I passed some runners finishing the descent of their second loop. It was at this point, heading towards Moleka where my body began to feel the effects of the previous 22-23 miles. I was hydrated, but famished. I munched on some more potatoes and kept trudging along. I didn’t pay too much attention to time, but did notice I was behind my scheduled loop interval goals. Crossing Roundtop Road and heading up Manoa Cliff Trail there is a fairly steep incline and for the first time I had to place my hands on my knees with each step upward. My hamstrings were toast, my groin and hip began to throb. All those aches started to blend together. This was the beginning of going beyond comfort, beyond my natural threshold.
The switchbacks on Manoa Cliff Trail that followed were fairly slow going, but, I JUST KEPT MOVING. A runner passed me and I wasn’t fazed at all. This was my race and I needed to concentrate on that more than anything else. A few cramps rose up my legs, but nothing debilitating. I needed to get to the aid station at the loop’s pinnacle.
Hawaii ultra running veteran Steve Villiger passed me at this point. As he was doing so he said in a quiet, almost serene voice, “you got it, you’re on the way home”. And I was.
I arrived at the final aid station, thirsty and hungry. I snatched one of the final pieces of watermelon (sorry Keith Campbell), drank a hearty amount of Gatorade, strapped my pack on for the final time and started towards Nahuina Trail with 3 miles left. As I was descending mostly by means of momentum I heard footsteps behind me. I took a quick look to notice Jess Lindenberg on her way to finishing her first ultra. The definition of a Soul Runner Jess is a runner I grew to respect through training. I picked up my pace a bit and made the last turn towards Makiki Valley Trail. I was going to finish, but what ensued was not something I expected. The outcome and climax will last with me forever, and set a template for future races.
Rocks and roots, roots and rocks, my legs felt numb, muscle memory was nearly obsolete. I couldn’t plan any steps beyond the next one. Closer to the junction where Makiki Valley Trail begins, Randy’s familiar face was waiting. This time he went well-beyond words of encouragement. Coming in to the day I had a tentative goal of finishing in 6 hours flat. I was behind schedule at this point, and at the pace I was going wouldn’t have made it to the finish less than 6 hours 20 minutes. Stepping closer to the junction, Randy tightening his pack hollered “Let’s go Chris, let’s finish this thing!”
My eyes widened. I had 2 miles left and I was in for it now. My chin was at my chest at this point, I was struggling to find deep breaths. With Randy directing my line my pace increased. Jess was on my heels, but not in an intimidating manner. We mumbled words of encouragement to one another as we both punched back at the rugged mountain that was giving us its all. This was round 12 of our prizefight, and there was no way the mountain was claiming us the way it had so many before. Villiger, who I thought was long gone, was just ahead. Seconds later he let us pass, and Jess and I paid our respects to him with a nod and thank you.
As we charged the final uphill I acknowledged Randy with nothing more than a hand wave forward when asked where I was at. That’s all I could muster. Verbal ability to respond was gone. Jess took up ahead of me. Sharing the trail with hikers, Randy did an incredible job clearing our path. I got chicken skin when I heard him yell, “Hey guys please make way we’ve got ultra runners, completing their first ultra marathon!”
We reached the top of the final hill. There was no moment for reflection now. All that was left was Hogs Back, or what I like to call the root pathway to hell. It has the ability to leave runners frustrated, either by taking their footing or breaking their spirit. It’s the epitome of technical, and on weary legs there’s no way around its torment.
Randy and Jess were pulling ahead, but I wouldn’t be left back for long. I let go of everything, any pain or agony I was in was set aside. I began to run in rhythm, with an empty mind. My steps became quicker, my focus was again attentive, and I noticed I was making head way, nimbly whisking down Hog’s Back. I ran back into a state of comfort, the way Jurek had explained. The three of us followed the same path. From the left side of the embankment avoiding the boulders in the middle, swerving to the right to find a slightly open grade of dry, smoother terrain. We rounded the corner and the last tenth of a mile or so was before us. I was sprinting. We were all sprinting. Randy led the pack, Jess was pushing hard and I glided behind them. Heading down the stairs towards the finish I was now within an arms reach of both of them. Randy shouted to clear the finish line, and Jess and I sped in one after the other.
As the clapping and cheering settled, I took time to gather myself. With water in hand I gave high fives and hugs to both Randy and Jess for helping me finish in proper H.U.R.T. fashion. I sat for a moment, hands on my thighs and just like that first run nearly five years earlier, I gazed skyward and smiled.
Training and practice got me up and over those first two loops, but it was pure human spirit that guided and lit the path when dark moments intruded the final loop. Going beyond what I thought I was capable, and tapping into something beyond myself, I completed what I set out to do, and the reward was extraordinary.
Ultra running is truly a community experience. My finish that day would not have been possible without the guidance and support of many. I look forward to giving back to that community as best as I can heading forward.
Walking gingerly back to my truck that afternoon I gave a nod to that mountain above. I pay it respect, because I know there will be another in the future that will do its best to humble me to my knees.
The Aloha Ked 