We’re All Runners in the Ultramarathon of Life

Life lessons from a 100-mile ultramarathon

Even though running a marathon is an individual sport, each runner performs best when backed by a team of supporters. (Biba Kayewich)

When my oldest son told me that he intended to run the Daytona 100, a 100-mile ultramarathon in Florida from Jacksonville to Daytona, I thought he was nuts.

A cluster of fatherly cautions popped to mind: What if you permanently damage your knees? Shouldn’t you get a doctor’s OK first? What if you drop dead?

But I stifled my objections. Jake’s a 37-year-old attorney, happily married, and the father of seven children. In other words, he’s a grown man. Stuffing a cork into my bottled-up paternal anxieties, I smiled and wished him good luck.

It so happened that on Dec. 2, the day before the race, my brothers, sisters, and some nieces and nephews gathered in Jacksonville for a memorial service for a beloved brother-in-law. Most of that crew returned home early the next day, but two of my sisters, a couple of their grown children, and my daughter remained an extra day.

That afternoon and evening, we were gathered at my sister’s condo, where we kept getting texts from Jake’s wife, Laura, and his brother, JP, on his progress. Finally, when a text announced that Jake had hit the 80-mile mark, I couldn’t stand any more of the stress and waiting. “Let’s catch up with him in Daytona,” I said to the friend who was with me. To the amazement of my sisters and daughter, the two of us drove off into the night, hoping to catch the last 10 miles of this ordeal.

We did catch it. And that evening, between 11 p.m. and 1:30 a.m., I witnessed an exhibition of unforgettable life lessons.

Even though running a marathon is an individual sport, each runner performs best when backed by a team of supporters. (Biba Kayewich)

Life Lesson No. 1: Aim for the Finish Line

Unless you’re one of the top few contenders in such a crazy race, your main competitor is you. Most of the runners aim at maintaining a certain pace, sure, but their main goal is simply to get to the finish line. The winner’s time was just more than 16 hours; Jake made it in under 20; the last runner arrived 11 hours later.

Each of them, and all the other participants, deserve congratulations, for this race demands more than physical conditioning and stamina. It takes grit and willpower, the mental strength to keep moving when your body is begging to stop and lie down on the grass or the pavement. Even those who dropped out of the race from injuries merit applause. They competed. They gave it a shot.

Whether we know it or not, we’re all in a race of some kind or another. Some of us are fast, breezing through difficulties, while others of us are plodders, taking the hits but still moving forward. Here are some lines from Rudyard Kipling’s inspirational poem “If” that apply both to the runners and to the rest of us:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

Life Lesson No. 2: We Can All Use Some Help

Watching Laura and JP in action reminded me of a NASCAR pit crew working on a driver’s car. Sometimes, JP ran with Jake—he covered more than 40 miles that day—and sometimes, Laura walked with him. The one who wasn’t with Jake would drive the car down Route A1A a mile or two, pull into a parking lot or a side street, and be there when he passed, ready to hand him whatever he needed—water, energy gels, Vaseline for chafing, a change of shoes—and always clapping and calling out encouragement.

By the time my friend and I arrived, this pair had these tasks of switch-off and way stations down to a science. The van looked like a bomb had exploded on the inside, with supplies and trash scattered everywhere, but Laura and JP operated together like a machine helping their runner.

Along the way, we passed other families and friends giving similar aid to the runners they loved. In two cases, it was clear that the exhausted runner could go no farther. In other scenarios, the men and women in the race were being handed bottled water and cheered as they jogged or trudged past.

When he reached the finish line at the Ponce de Leon Inlet Lighthouse, Jake slowed, called for Laura and JP, and with his arms wrapped around them, walked the final few steps to victory.

In a later text, he wrote: “Lesson learned: never do an ultra alone.”

Competent people who have your back, those with your best interests at heart, are silver and gold.

Life Lesson No. 3: Cheer On Those Who Are Trying

The participants in such a race don’t run in packs, but are scattered for miles. At the time of night when we arrived, they were bobbing along the sidewalk in the darkness with their running lights on their backs or caps, either alone or with one companion.

Each time we passed one of these strangers, Laura or JP would slow the car and call out encouragement. Other drivers and bystanders did the same for each passing contestant.

Meanwhile, several people, including his older sister, offered Jake prayers and thoughts via texts to Laura and JP. Later, he told me—and them—how much their words had meant to him.

No matter where we are in our own race, whatever that race may be, words of encouragement can keep us going.

Life Lesson No. 4: Success Means Coupling Ambition, Action

Suppose you’ve dreamed for years of visiting Paris? Watching a race like this one might inspire you to begin setting aside some money, obtaining a passport, and researching hotel rooms and places to visit in the City of Lights. Suppose you’ve long wished you played the piano? Again, this ultramarathon might inspire you to buy a keyboard or an upright, hire a teacher or use online resources, and put your fingers to the keys.

Not all of our dreams will come true. But here’s one irrefutable fact: None of them will come true unless we take action, as did all these runners, and make them happen.

Marathon as Metaphor

The timeline of this ultramarathon resembles that of life itself. Dawn brings the birth of the contest and finds the runners nervous, fresh, and eager as adolescents to begin their journey. The hardships of midday reflect the struggles of our middle years, when life demands so much of our abilities and strength. Dusk, like old age, finds most of us slowing our pace. Then comes the finish line, which, if we follow this metaphor to its logical conclusion, represents both triumph and death. The race is over.

Near the end of his life, Saint Paul had such a metaphor in mind when he wrote: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” Like him, and like so many others, we should see life as a marathon and not a sprint. If we want to cross that finish line having lived as complete a life as possible, our hands held high in victory, we must run the race and persevere.

A new year means new beginnings, which also means we have yet another chance to make our dreams come true. Whatever those dreams are, we can copy these runners and pursue our ambitions with all our might. We may succeed, we may fail, but like these runners, here’s what truly counts:

We ran the race and gave it our all.