Ultrarunner of the Year: My Ballot

I was thrilled to once again be asked to join the voting panel for Ultrarunning Magazine's Ultrarunner of the Year.  As always I find this to be an extremely gratifying yet significantly discomfiting task, causing no small amount of stress as I try to parse the various resumes and performances.  For the past couple of years, I've asked guests on the podcast to help me sort things out.  This year I was joined on the show by Rich Heffron and Phil Vondra, who were able to set me straight on a few things in time for me to revise my final ballot, which I present below.

As I stated last year: I continue to invite criticism by posting my ballot.  I'm not quite sure why I do this, other than that it's easy content creation.  I do enjoy debating the picks and hearing people's rationales for arguments for and against various decisions.  As with anything online it can get a little personal or angry, but for the most part people have been good-natured and civil about it.  Please continue to do so.  The debate is the fun part, but only if we respect each other's opinions.  Our sport covers a variety of distances, surfaces, and formats, and while these awards smush all of them together, we all value different things and have our own prejudices and biases.  Which is basically just to say: keep it civil.

Womens' UROY
1. Courtney Dauwalter
2. Kaci Lickteig
3. Brittany Peterson
4. Camille Herron
5. Clare Gallagher
6. Sabrina Stanley
7. Addie Bracy
8. Katie Schide
9. Kaytlyn Gerbin
10. Camelia Mayfield

As you'll see, this is significantly different from what I had discussed with Rich and Phil.  I won't say where I had ranked Camille initially, but if you listen to the show you'll find out soon enough.  What I'll say here is that while I stand by my arguments for having her as low as I did--basically, that one standout performance does not make a whole season, that it should be recognized in Performance of the Year, etc.--I didn't apply that criteria strictly enough across the entire category, and I'm not sure my internal reasoning held up.  Which is the point of the podcast, allowing my to realize where I might've made a mistake.  I'm pretty happy with how this list wound up, though it was difficult leaving off Amanda Basham, YiOu Wang, Kathryn Drew, Taylor Nowlin, and Emily Hawgood.

Womens' Performance of the Year
1. Camille Herron's world record at the 24 hour World Championships in Albi, France
2. Courtney Dauwalter's win at UTMB
3. Maggie Guterl winning Big's Backyard
4. Clare Gallagher winning Western States (#2 all-time)
5. Sabrina Stanley winning Diagonale des Fous

I think Phil, Rich, and I had basically the same top five in order, which certainly made me feel good about these picks.  Other standout performances I considered were Hillary Allen's win at Cortina, Amanda Basham's runner-up finish at CCC, Erika Hoaglund's Course record at Rio del Lago, Stephanie Case's runner-up at Ronde del Cims, and Elizabeth Northern's 3:19 at the 50K world championships.

Womens' Age Group Performance of the Year
1. Megan Laws (55 years old) 50K age-group world record (and 50M/100K AG American Records) at Desert Solstice
2. Connie Gardner (56) 18:16, win at Jackpot 100 (US Championships)
3. Pamela Champman-Markle (63) 118 miles in 24 hours at 6 Days in the Dome
4. Denise Bourassa (50) 17:01, 2nd place at Brazos Bend
5. Maria Shields (68) 100K in 12 hours at Dawn to Dusk to Dawn

Mens' UROY
1. Jim Walmsley
2. Zach Bitter
3. Pat Reagan
4. Jared Hazen
5. Tim Tollefson
6. Olivier Leblond
7. Tyler Green
8. Mark Hammond
9. Matt Daniels
10. Harvey Lewis

Jim is a likely unanimous pick for his unprecedented fourth straight UROY award; and beyond him the top half of this ballot was pretty easy for me.  The bottom half could go any number of ways, and there were multiple deserving folks who got left off, including Jeff Browning, Trevor Fuchs, Drew Holman, Cody Reed, Jason Schlarb, and Mario Mendoza.

Mens' Performance of the Year
1. Zach Bitter's 100 mile world record at 6 Days in the Dome
2. Jim Walmsley's 50 mile world record at Project Carbon X
3. Jim's astounding course record at Western States
4. Olivier Leblond's 3rd place at 24 hour World Champs
5. Pat Reagan's 12:21 at Brazos Bend 100 (US Champs)

The top three I'm assuming are basically written in stone, though the order is up for reasonable debate.  Other notable performances were Tim Tollefson's win at Laveredo, Jared Hazen's runner-up finish at States, Jim's CR at Santa Barbara Nine Trails, Seth Ruhling's 5:38 win at JFK, and Zach Ornelas and Austin Bogina both running 2:50:xx for 50K at Caumsett.

Men's Age Group Performance of the Year
1. Steven Moore (51) 18:14 (age group CR) at Western States
2. Don Winkley (80) 327 miles in 144 hours at Across the Years
3. Jean Pommier (55) 14:47 (age group national record) at Jackpot 100
4. Joe Fejes (53) 532 miles at 6 Days in the Dome
6. Ruperto Romero (55) overall win at Angeles Crest

Guest Post: Stewart Dutfield's Q2 Somewhat Running-related Diary

Mohonk: Skytop Tower from Lost City

13 April. When the Albany Running Exchange announced a Half Marathon along the rail trail, they expected a few hundred runners to show up. The downhill course from the foothills of the Helderbergs to the banks of the Hudson River could yield some extremely fast times, but limits were generous enough to accommodate walkers and first-time runners. The makings of both a classic race and a community event attracted more than two thousand to the start line. Busy running a water station, I missed Jean pass through in the crowd on her way to a fast time and third in her age group (she then cycled 20 miles to meet me at Clayton's baseball game). I suspect that the event will accommodate several hundred more next year.

25 April. Back in DC for a baseball game and a visit to the Holocaust Museum, we found ourselves on an impromptu treasure hunt. Clayton had loaded his phone with apps to locate available electric scooters, so Jean and I rented city bikes and walked for miles all over the city with him: to a school where a faculty member had perhaps expected to find his scooter waiting for him at the end of the day, in the garbage-smelling bowels of L'Enfant Plaza, and the parking lot of a housing project west of the Navy Yards. We scooted and pedalled all over the city; I was tempted to set off from Georgetown along the C&O towpath, now the easternmost section of a new transcontinental rail trail.

26 April. Retreating to the hotel from a fierce downpour on the National Mall, I dried off and started "Beyond a Boundary" by C.L.R. James. He suggests that the insecurity of English Puritans amidst social breakdown after the dissolution of the monasteries led to feelings of fear and self-defence. James describes these traits in his own family in Trinidad, but I was struck by the connection to the US which has always struck me as a Puritan country. It is, after all, where Puritans went to escape religious oppression and to do some oppressing of their own instead. Could emotional and political life in the US derive partly from threats to society and the economy in parts of mid-16th century England? Right or not, it struck me as a lovely idea.

Skytop in the murk.
photo: Bill Winter

4 May. Mohonk Preserve grew around a mountain hotel, started by a Quaker family, which from the 1890s hosted several series of conferences. One series led to to today's Permanent Court of Arbitration in the Hague, while others were less influential: in recommending the assimilation of Native Americans, and in failing to invite African Americans to gentlemanly discussions of what they most needed after the failure of Reconstruction. The Rock the Ridge challenge raises a large amount of money for the Preserve, and a generous time limit accommodates people who would not normally attempt to run or hike 50 miles along hilly carriage roads. Despite the cost of entry and sponsorship donations, several hundred entrants make this one of the country's largest races at this distance. My goal on this cool, misty day was to run every step of the course. Puffing my way up cardiac hill, the steepest part of the course, I had a mutually taciturn encounter with blogmeister Jason Friedman on his way back down; by the time I trotted over the finish line I had achieved my goal but Jason was doubtless long departed.

Kaaterskill Falls
photo: Dick Vincent

20 May. Possible outcomes of the Brexit mess once seemed clear, but after this week's collapse of government authority just before the EU elections, all bets are off. Whatever pretty pass the UK comes to will be by way of anxiety over perceived decline, complacency, and nostalgia for a mythical past (I owe these to Linda Colley's 2017 Guardian article). Pragmatic, evidence-based government—on which I and many of my generation hung our post-ideological hats—left some communities unable to adapt as the world changes fast around them. Perhaps we chose policies which neglected some needs, complacent that the "Third Way" was itself enough; in the wake of this failure comes something darker and for which there is yet to be a reckoning (and I hope Billy Bragg is right that there will be).

Unexpected snow in May on the Kaaterskill Rail Trail

31 May. To better understand the nationalism that's once more in vogue, I have been re-reading Benedict Anderson's "Imagined Communities" (the title of his memoir, "A Life Beyond Boundaries", echoes that of the C.L.R. James book I read last month). Anderson describes several attributes common to the emergence of independent countries in the last century, some of which are present today in both Scotland and Ireland. But surely a breakup of the UK will require the raw power of those imagining a united Ireland or an independent Scotland to overcome that of Unionists, many of whom are themselves merrily exerting raw power to pursue a split from Europe.

5 June. Watching an interview by Stephen Fry, part of his TV series on America, I stumbled across a lucid description of the US as a Puritan country. It also seems that Gore Vidal coined the quip about religious oppression, unattributably quoted on the Internet as "The Puritans left England for America not because they couldn't be Puritans in their mother country, but because they were not allowed to force others to become Puritans; in the New World, of course, they could and did."

9 June. A broad shoulder of Blackhead Mountain in the Catskills is named Arizona, perhaps because those who logged it in the 19th century found no water. Joe and I come here often to maintain the trail, and today we walked on a carpet of tips of Balsam fir an inch or two in length. Wind, perhaps, combined with late ice or snow? Experts at the Department of Environmental Conservation weren't sure what had caused this oddity.

16 June. On a day of repeated ascents, the summit area of Overlook Mountain above Woodstock was enveloped in pink blossoms of mountain laurel. Thinking of mountain laurel as mainly white, I had always called referred to anything pink as "mountain pink". But now I shall need to distinguish pink laurel from the pink azalea (pinxter) that also grows in the mountains.

30 June. Through a secret door into Syon Park with old friends Tom and Hanke: we had not met together for more than 30 years. Having convinced ourselves in the Orangery how to recognise Palladian architecture, we walked through wildflower meadows and together tentatively identified cranesbill—confirmed later in Tom's reference book. 

2 July. For Robert Barclay Allardice, who in 1809 walked a mile in each of a thousand consecutive hours, the Banchory-Stonehaven toll road—the Slug Road—was his way to or from home on walks over epic distances in the Highlands. I started beside the site of Captain Barclay's house at Cluny; with much of the road closed for bridge repairs, a few cyclists and I had it largely to ourselves. Descending into Deeside, a sharp right turn joins the line of the much older Cryne Corse. The roads are busier hereabouts than when Barclay walked them two centuries ago, and the Deeside Way follows an indirect route up the valley between Banchory and Aboyne. Instead, my sister Stella drove me from the bottom of the Slug Road to where I could resume running along the course of Queen Victoria's railway line to its terminus in Ballater.

18 July. I sit on the ground just before 4am, licking remains of molten chocolate from my fingers, as the Vermont 100 mile run is about to start on the hottest day of the year. Like the Tevis Cup ride over California's Sierra Nevada, this was for years a horse riding event before people joined in on foot. Horses and runners follow a tortuous loop of dirt roads and trails, passing with many hours still to travel within less than half a mile of the finish. By Camp 10 Bear, to which the course returns 22 miles later, I'm reduced to a walk. Chafing and overheating due to the conditions, I was surprised that my quads had struggled with the rolling terrain. Having seen bacon work miracles in the past, I tried smoked salmon with cream cheese and lots of capers that my crew Joe and Amy had been keeping cool for me. It tasted good, and I continued to plod as far as I could before time ran out. I had bought each us a tee shirt printed with "Camp 10 Bear: a place so nice you'll visit twice", which having made it there only once I don't yet feel qualified to wear. Perhaps, since I seem to handle hot conditions less well with age, next time I'll opt for the 100K run instead. 

Looking west from the Canadian Span

23 August. My wife and I have been exploring the Thousand Islands region by bicycle: without, alas, much interesting our son in joining us. We rode into Canada, along Howe Island between the ferries at either end, and nibbled at the course of the railway that once sped people overnight from Philadelphia and New York City (as I might have travelled, in an imaginary alternative life, between London and weekends in the Cairngorms), whence they could take ferries to breakfast at their island hotels.

1 September. During his visit to research the life of Frances Perkins in the New York State library, Tom and I made pilgrimage to FDR's home at Hyde Park. Here, in the vein of Ballater Station's royal loo, were priceless carpets over which Churchill had doubtless spilled invective and cigar ash. The FDR library proved the main attraction; there was much to learn, not least why the price of admission includes a second day for those who can't absorb it all. I left with the strong impression that the speed with which the New Deal was enacted owed much to what Perkins had already achieved in the New York administration of Al Smith several years earlier.

8 September. Friends in Connecticut celebrated their 60th birthdays with a sixty-mile bicycle ride for their peers. We set off through Collinsville's sunny Sunday streets before climbing away from the Farmington river and splitting into two groups: fast and faster. We passed barns huge enough to be sinister: part of the local tobacco industry that for two centuries has supplied outer leaves for cigars. On two occasions we encountered what one of us called a "Google car" travelling at speed; it wasn't gathering data for online maps, but a self-driving car under test. I wonder what it thought of us. 

6 October. Signs on the Massachusetts Turnpike announce the Quinebaug-Shetucket National Heritage Corridor: a region in which communities and businesses work to preserve the landscape and history of the "last green valley" between Boston and Washington DC. The Nipmuck trail marathon passes through these woods and for a while joins the course of the Old Connecticut Path, which predates European settlement.  When I first took part, this was one of just four trail races in all of New York and New England. I ran them all then, but had not returned to Nipmuck for 30 years. The trail was much drier than I remembered, since the race has moved from spring to fall and several bridges have been constructed. Otherwise, little has changed; everything remains low key, as it was everywhere in those early days, and home-baked pies are still the race prizes.

Fall from Mohonk

13 October. While reading Jonny Muir's excellent The Mountains are Calling on hill running in Scotland, I also encountered Virginia Woolf's essay "Street Haunting" about the delights of walking in London. I was taken back to my 20s—for most young people there are roads not taken, trains missed—loving both the city and the mountains but neither committing to one nor finding a way to integrate both. While in Edinburgh I came close, perhaps, but did not live there long enough to take "the road to Swanston"—as Muir refers to the calling of the hill runner. I moved on before R.L. Stevenson's Pentlands got under my skin the way that, at different times, the South Downs, Yorkshire Dales and Catskill Mountains have done.   

Guest Post: Stewart Dutfield's Q1 Somewhat Running-related Diary

19 January. Six days ago, the "Recover from the Holidays 50K" started smoothly until, after a mere half hour, my right calf unaccountably began to tighten. It got slowly worse until, after a particularly uncomfortable downhill, I decided to go home early. Some deep tissue massage found the symptom but not the cause, and despite some remaining discomfort I was able to slowly run the hilly roads above Woodstock. Whether this will go away of its own accord, as such things sometimes do, is a cause of worry.

The Devil's Path of the High Catskills
Indian Head, Jimmy Dolan Notch, and southern tip of Twin

27 January. What to make of the news that the British government is making preparations, but has no plans, for martial law in the event of Brexit? A combination, perhaps, of Baden-Powell stiff upper lip with a flaccid "something will turn up". Meanwhile, life turns upside down as the British Broadcasting Corporation announces a move to Europe, while the so-called "European Research Group" wants to leave Europe as disruptively as it can: what will they call themselves then? Will Hutton warned, in 1995, of what could now be their manifesto:

• Perpetual austerity: "Swinging cuts in the welfare state could bring lower taxation."
• Low wages and job insecurity...though without immigrants, of course: "All inhibitions to the functioning of a free labour market could be removed..." 
• Take back control by abandoning controls: "There will be another round of business deregulation." 
• Martial law would be even better: "Any reaction to these measures could be repressed by intensified policing and an increase in the prison population."
• Toodle pip, Open Society: "The vestigial elements of public power lying outside the control of the state or the market could be removed."
• What has become the means to achieve everything else: "The country could opt out of all European institutions in order to better preserve the free market utopia."

30 January. Yesterday a New Statesman writer attempted to understand the Conservative Party's attitude to Brexit; they agree on five priorities, but disagree on their relative importance. Only two of the five, regulatory autonomy and an independent trade policy, are reasons to leave the EU; the remainder are simply containing the damage. So why does a broad church of Brexit voters, from Rochford to Rotherham, want to leave? A desire to poke the establishment in the eye does not explain the UK government's "red line" on free movement of people, which appears to be the cause of intractable difficulty regarding Ireland. A Guardian piece today leaves me considering a very reason for all of this: dislike of immigration, sometimes beneath a more genteel veneer of doing something about "those people".

4 February. In Albany's South End this morning, I was asked what I was carrying. 

"Snowshoes." 

"Don't you need snow for those?"
"There's more snow where I started out."

"Do they go fast?"

"No, I'm really slow on them."

"I guess if you were going fast on those things you'd whup your ass."

14 February. New Scientist reports a study on the health impact of post-Brexit increases in the price of fruit and vegetables: approximately 6,000 additional deaths by 2030, and twice that with no deal. A Kantian moralist in me discounts the numbers; those in the much-bruited 52% in favour of Brexit will simply experience the consequence of what they voted for, so we should lament only 48% of those fatalities. 

16 February. The Economist contrasts Shropshire's enthusiasm for Brexit with the risk of damage to its "traditional rural economy". Meanwhile, I have been listening to settings of A Shropshire Lad: poems much read in the trenches of World War I. A century later, it seems, nostalgia remains for a rural England that may never quite have existed and which one will not see in future. Over versions of "Is my team ploughing" by Ivor Gurney and Ralph Vaughan Williams I prefer George Butterworth's, if only because he retains the verses about football playing along the river shore. 

17 February. 45 years ago, the Albany Winter Marathon was one of very few events in the depths of a New York winter. It offered a last chance to qualify for Boston a couple of months later, but nowadays a "BQ" time must be in the books by the previous autumn. Having met the qualifying time for 2020, I may be one of the last; participation has dwindled and the Winter Marathon may be no more. Perhaps a hard-bitten few will run the course in future years, clock or no clock.

23 February. Though my right calf had not tightened in the marathon, the ankle on my other leg hobbled me for the next two days. Simply resting had little effect, so when I took my son and a friend to ski at Gore Mountain I gently cross country skied and snowshoed to see what would happen. Since nothing got worse, I resolved to continue being active and resorted to what runners typically do when things aren't working: buy new shoes.

2 March. After seven hilly Woodstock miles in the new shoes, my ankle stopped hurting. It felt better for the next 20 miles and the rest of the day. As muscles tightened after a long climb and steep descent, perhaps some imbalance in the ankle temporarily resolved itself.  

10 March. The Albany Running Exchange represents a buoyant younger wave of running in our area. At their "Tour of Guilderland" group run no-one appeared to be within 20 years of my age. It quickly emerged that I was also the slowest, though by running almost at full tilt I wheezed my part of a delightful conversation with someone out for an easy jog. After a detour through untracked inches-deep snow along the rail trail, I arrived exhausted at the organizers' house just in time for a gulp of prosecco and the last of breakfast. 

In the distance, taking the Helderberg to Hudson Rail Trail
photo: Josh Merlis

13 March. In a 2005 book, Jean Lipman-Blumen commends us to leaders who undermine our illusions. She suggests that, predisposed to feeling superior to outsiders or to those who disagree with us, we are susceptible to leaders who exhibit behaviours such as:

"Misleading... through deliberate untruths and misdiagnoses"

"Maliciously setting constituents against one another"

"Identifying scapegoats and inciting others to castigate them"

"Structuring the costs of overthrowing them as a trigger for the downfall of the system they lead"

These may not be shortcomings of Theresa May. Her twin illusions, of abolishing freedom of movement and of some ill-defined national autonomy, simply could not be reconciled with the Good Friday agreement: a treaty with other countries that has established peace in Northern Ireland for 20 years. The Prime Minister has failed by evading this "valuable inconvenience", though had she confronted it the country may yet have proven unready to listen. Pro-Brexit UK has had the leadership it deserves. 

21 March. Bicycling to work for the first time this year, I dismounted for a couple of patches of ice on the rail trail and on the roads in town avoided as best I could the accumulated grit, glass and potholes of a hard winter. Railway sidings beside the future course of the South End Connector trail held long trains of black fuel tankers: pipelines on wheels for transhipment onto Hudson River barges. Suspecting false representation on those labelled "Renewable Products Marketing Group", I deferred my indignation to discover that the trains carry light Bakken crude from North Dakota, tar sands oil from Canada, and ethanol from the midwest. Ethanol entails many problems when used as a fuel, but perhaps this particular labeling was accurate as far as it went; no-one had painted the tankers green with pictures of happy butterflies.

The HAT run trail, above the mouth of the Susquehanna River

Van Der Zee House, built by the grandson of Storm Brant who was born at sea in 1636