Wisdom

In life and ultras Gunhild Swanson will not stop

- Claire Walla

Dragonflies flitted above weary runners lying in the grass within the Placer High School track like forgotten rag dolls. Families braved the heat to support their broken-down kin, bringing water, massaging feet, mostly just letting them lie. A couple dozen spectators filled the cement stands, which rose high above the last 100 yards of the track—the final 100 yards of the Western States 100.

Placer High School in Auburn, California, was filled with more people in the last hour of the race than it had been in the previous 29 hours since the 2015 Western States 100 began, 100 miles away, in Squaw Valley, California. At least twice as many people filled the stands as the day before when the first place finisher, Rob Krar, zoomed across the line in 14 hours 48 minutes 59 seconds, just two minutes shy of the overall course record.

Some people were there in this last golden hour by default, their bodies unable to move fast enough to vacate the premises. But most wanted to see, first-hand, what grit and determination looked like: runners who, for nearly 30 hours, pushed themselves, often against the edge of failure, to make it to the finish line before the dreaded 30hour cut-off.

Spectators—fully exposed to the heat of the sun—sweated on their concrete seats overlooking the field as they waited for the last of the runners to emerge onto the track.

At the end of a 100-mile race, runners are hardly running. A brisk walking pace is about 20 minutes per mile, and for those who had just spent nearly 30 hours climbing 18,000 feet and descending 22,000 feet, 20 minutes is generous.

As the clock ticked away above the finish line, a runner limped onto the track, sending spectators into an uproar. He was hobbling, like those who had come before, and when he rounded the bend and faced the countdown clock, he slowed, knowing he would make it, if only by seconds.

Go! Go! Go!