By Bryan Gould
Suddenly, there was an idea in my brain, “You should run from sun-up to sun-down.” This idea was followed by a plea, “Please do this on the shortest day of the year.” Weeks later, at sunrise, a few masked friends and I clicked our watches and started running a slush-covered 5K loop around Lake Quannapowitt in Wakefield, Massachusetts, with nothing but daylight ahead of us.
Flashback about ten years, when a single 5K loop around Lake Q was my weekly long run. One summer evening, the weather was so beautiful that instead of walking to my car, I ran around the lake a second time. Six miles! That was a PR and a revelation. Instead of stopping, I could just keep going.
Like most people, my running story begins with knee surgery. I was in my mid-30s and out of shape, but I clung to my Tuesday night Ultimate Frisbee pickup game. I’d spend hours sprinting up and down a grass field, followed by days of nursing sore muscles, recovering just in time to do it again. One spring day, I raced for a disc, over-extended, and twist-snap-ouch! Congratulations, I was the winner of an unhappy triad!
After surgery and months of rehab, I was allowed to bike, hike, and run but was told, “No cutting.” What? How do you run without cutting? That sounds like …jogging! I gave it a try and hated it. However, running a little further each day (counted in minutes, not miles) was the only way for my brain to measure progress. Eventually, I signed up for my town’s annual 5K, and I won!
No, I didn’t win the race. That is absurd. I won because I met people who liked running and ran 5Ks for fun. And they told me that some 5Ks serve beer at the end. Really? This is a thing? There’s more to running than ouch-ouch-huff-huff-collapse? If it’s all that and a beer with friendly folks, I might keep doing this.
Eventually, I ventured into the half-marathon distance, which is impressive because it includes the word MARATHON. A marathon, of course, is a race in which rational people gather on front lawns to eat barbeque and, for entertainment, they watch packs of insane people run down the street for 26.2 miles.
So, there I was, in my mid-40s, proudly running my annual 13.1 miler, when a guy talked me into running the Boston Marathon. By “guy,” I mean my boss’s boss, and by “talked me into it,” I mean he handed me a fundraising bib and told me to get started. So, just like everyone else in Massachusetts, I spent the darkest period of the winter running on dark, icy roads. What fun!
Marathon Day came, and despite the weather, my inept fueling strategy, and bizarre choice of shorts, I won. Surrounded by cheering crowds, I shuffled along Boylston Street, crying tears of joy as I crossed the finish line behind thousands of much faster runners. A very nice person placed a medal around my neck and a tinfoil blanket around my shoulders. If that’s not winning, I don’t know what is.
For days, I couldn’t stop talking about the race. Thankfully, I had trained with my friend Peter Villa, and we could talk about the race together. Better still, Peter and I worked at the same place and had adjoining offices. To the joy of all, we opened our doors and had loud congratulatory conversations about our unprecedented achievement and how much food we were eating without remorse. This glorious period spanned about two days before our colleagues told us to shut up. So, we did what everyone else does, and we started a podcast. On every episode, we ask each other the same question, “How was your run today?” For some reason, lots of people listen to our answers. I don’t know why.
After a while, we took the podcast on the road. Being ambitious, we skipped past New York City and Los Angeles and headed straight for Millinocket, Maine. After all, it’s called the Magic City. And, in December, it is magical. Also, by 4 PM, it’s very cold and very dark. To keep warm, we decided to host a shakeout run the night before the big race. We plotted a 2K course up and down the main drag, and eight people joined us. It was over in ten minutes, and it was glorious. Two years later, our shakeout race was an event with crowds, costumes, fundraising, prizes, and a police escort! No kidding.
For years, I have filled my calendar with races. In part, because runners are good people and races are like a party with great guests, but no one needs to dress up or bring a gift. But also, each race was an opportunity to prove something to myself. Every 5K and half marathon was a reason to keep training and not let things slide. And then, all of a sudden, there was a pandemic, and there weren’t any more races.
“For years, I have filled my calendar with races. In part, because runners are good people and races are like a party with great guests, but no one needs to dress up or bring a gift. But also, each race was an opportunity to prove something to myself.”
And something very strange happened. I kept running.
For me, 2020 started with a January run streak. In April, I joined my wife, Andrea, and our daughters in a virtual Boston Marathon relay. But then things got weird. I decided to map out a 50K trail route, and I actually ran it. I called it the Independent Independence Day Ultra. Andrea was the crew and my friend, Lori Mitchener, joined me for the run. So much for the independent part! But Lori had just won three 100 mile races in a row, so I let her tag along. This made-up event was only my second ultra-distance run, and thus there was a lot of walking. Sorry, power hiking. (I’m still new to this.) During one of those power hikes, Lori gave me some great advice, “Just keep going.” It’s smart to keep things simple for runners.
For the rest of the summer, Peter and I trained for the MDI Marathon. When that race was canceled, we had all this training with nothing to do with it. So, we plotted a 50K course from historic Boston to historic Concord. Along the way, wonderful running people found us. Some of them offered water and snacks, and some of them joined us for miles and miles. Everyone took pictures. It was Peter’s first ultra, and it was a fantastic day.
Endorphins make people do crazy things like bungee jump or get married or run from sun-up to sun-down. I’m afraid of heights, and I’m already happily married, so I took the third choice. Lori came back for this one, as did Paul Chekal, an iron-calved 24-hour race veteran, and Emily Saul, a co-leader of Boston’s November Project workout cult. Just kidding, November Project isn’t really a cult. Cults require you to leave your friends and family and ask you for money. If we’re going with that definition, I think the Boston Marathon might be a cult. But I digress.
So, there we were on the solstice, December 21st. I had a feeling that this day was going to be special because, while Emily excels at all things fitness, she had yet to run longer than the sacred 26.2 mile distance. And I knew that even on the shortest day of the year, running all day would probably score us an ultra. As expected, this long run unfolded just like the other two, unexpectedly. Due to a recent snowfall, the footing was terrible, and a truck towed away the lone port-o-potty. But we just kept going. This time, more happy running friends joined us for laps throughout the day, and Emily became an ultrarunner with time to spare. It was a great day.
Throughout this unique and difficult year, it has been hard to comprehend the suffering, loss, uncertainty, and pain that we are all experiencing. The isolation from friends and family has made it all nearly unbearable. Thinking back on it, I didn’t make up these three silly ultra races to prove anything or keep me in shape or even for podcast content. Instead, I ran them just to see a few friends in person, masked-face to masked-face, because we all need some of that to just keep going.
About the Author
Bryan is the co-host of the How Was Your Run Today? Podcast. Most of his running occurs on trails near Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts. In 2019, he shared a New England Emmy Award with podcast co-host Peter Villa and filmmaker Greg Shea for their short film, Run Millinocket. In 2020, he made up three ultra-distance events and completed each one with a different running friend. In 2021, he hopes to return to Millinocket, Maine, with Peter Villa to host the Crankle 2K in costume. When he’s not running, talking about running, or doing laundry, Bryan makes digital media accessible for people with disabilities at WGBH and offers unsolicited fatherly advice to his daughters. Bryan is married to his Artist-in-Residence, Andrea Bonney Gould.
