Among endurance runners, there are those who have run very long distances, and then there are those who have run very long distances for a very long time. Ed Ayres exemplifies the latter; having run in over 600 races across fifty-five years, he is arguably the most experienced American distance runner still competing today. A book no one else could have written, The Longest Race is his urgent exploration of the connection between individual endurance and a sustainable society.
The Longest Race begins at the starting line of the 2001 JFK 50 Mile—the nation’s oldest and largest ultramarathon and, like other such races, an epic test of human limits and aspiration. At age sixty, his sights set on breaking the age-division record, Ayres embarks on a course over the rocky ridge of the Appalachian Trail, along the headwind-buffeted towpath of the Potomac River, and past momentous Civil War sites such as Harpers Ferry and Antietam.
But even as Ayres focuses on concerns familiar to every endurance runner—starting strong and setting the right pace, the art of breathing, overcoming fatigue, mindfulness for the course ahead—he finds himself as preoccupied with the future of our planet as with the finish line of this 50-mile race.
A veteran journalist and environmental editor who harbors deep anxiety about our longterm prospects, Ayres helps us to understand how the skills and mindset necessary to complete an ultramarathon are also essential for grappling anew with the imperative to endure—not only as individuals, but as a society—and not just for 50 miles, but in the longest race we are all called upon to run.
Among endurance runners, there are those who have run very long distances, and then there are those who have run very long distances for a very long time. Ed Ayres exemplifies the latter; having run in over 600 races across fifty-five years, he is arguably the most experienced American distance runner still competing today. A book no one else could have written, The Longest Race is his urgent exploration of the connection between individual endurance and a sustainable society.
The Longest Race begins at the starting line of the 2001 JFK 50 Mile—the nation’s oldest and largest ultramarathon and, like other such races, an epic test of human limits and aspiration. At age sixty, his sights set on breaking the age-division record, Ayres embarks on a course over the rocky ridge of the Appalachian Trail, along the headwind-buffeted towpath of the Potomac River, and past momentous Civil War sites such as Harpers Ferry and Antietam.
But even as Ayres focuses on concerns familiar to every endurance runner—starting strong and setting the right pace, the art of breathing, overcoming fatigue, mindfulness for the course ahead—he finds himself as preoccupied with the future of our planet as with the finish line of this 50-mile race.
A veteran journalist and environmental editor who harbors deep anxiety about our longterm prospects, Ayres helps us to understand how the skills and mindset necessary to complete an ultramarathon are also essential for grappling anew with the imperative to endure—not only as individuals, but as a society—and not just for 50 miles, but in the longest race we are all called upon to run.
The Longest Race: A Lifelong Runner, an Iconic Ultramarathon, and the Case for Human Endurance
256
The Longest Race: A Lifelong Runner, an Iconic Ultramarathon, and the Case for Human Endurance
256Paperback(Reprint)
-
SHIP THIS ITEMShips in 6-10 daysPICK UP IN STORE
Your local store may have stock of this item.
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
Among endurance runners, there are those who have run very long distances, and then there are those who have run very long distances for a very long time. Ed Ayres exemplifies the latter; having run in over 600 races across fifty-five years, he is arguably the most experienced American distance runner still competing today. A book no one else could have written, The Longest Race is his urgent exploration of the connection between individual endurance and a sustainable society.
The Longest Race begins at the starting line of the 2001 JFK 50 Mile—the nation’s oldest and largest ultramarathon and, like other such races, an epic test of human limits and aspiration. At age sixty, his sights set on breaking the age-division record, Ayres embarks on a course over the rocky ridge of the Appalachian Trail, along the headwind-buffeted towpath of the Potomac River, and past momentous Civil War sites such as Harpers Ferry and Antietam.
But even as Ayres focuses on concerns familiar to every endurance runner—starting strong and setting the right pace, the art of breathing, overcoming fatigue, mindfulness for the course ahead—he finds himself as preoccupied with the future of our planet as with the finish line of this 50-mile race.
A veteran journalist and environmental editor who harbors deep anxiety about our longterm prospects, Ayres helps us to understand how the skills and mindset necessary to complete an ultramarathon are also essential for grappling anew with the imperative to endure—not only as individuals, but as a society—and not just for 50 miles, but in the longest race we are all called upon to run.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781615190881 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | The Experiment |
| Publication date: | 08/20/2013 |
| Edition description: | Reprint |
| Pages: | 256 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.30(h) x 1.00(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Boonsboro, Dawn
The Start — When Life Begins Again
I don't remember being born. I doubt that anyone does. But I wonder if the moment you push off from the starting line of a long-distance footrace might be a subliminal replay of that long-forgotten launch of a new life. As the big moment approaches, you're jammed up behind an unyielding human wall — the too-close backs of other runners' necks, shoulder blades, elbows, thighs, and calves not quite ready to let you surge forward. You're about as naked as climate and social convention will allow, and at the same time you may feel your shoulders and hips bumping unavoidably against other shoulders and hips that are not yours but that, in a way, you feel kinship with. Then suddenly you're breaking free, and the long journey — in the company of others, but very much on your own — has begun.
There's magic in a moment like this. It's not only like being reborn each time you race; it's like having been given the secret to the most astonishing means of propulsion ever to appear on earth. And, arguably, that's what the human body offers, as many endurance runners are discovering. A horse can't compare. A bald eagle can't compare. For that matter, even a 24,500-mile-per-hour Apollo rocket to the moon couldn't have compared. Now, as I waited at the starting line, it struck me that our long-lost president John F. Kennedy, whose vision had brought that Apollo rocket into being, might be pleased by what we were about to attempt here in this fifty-mile trail race that had borne his name for the nearly four decades since his assassination.
It was late November 2001. The World Trade Center had been destroyed just over two months earlier, and the country had been staggered by the shock. But life goes on. There were a lot of Marines in this race, and no well-trained runner needed to be reminded that "when the going gets tough, the tough get going" — a credo generally attributed to President Kennedy's father, Joseph P. Kennedy. Elite Marine distance runners were as tough a breed as you'd find on this planet, and as we waited for the countdown I could see that the guys in red and gold were poised to take off like cannon shots. God help any baby who's born quite like that.
Along with the seven-man All Marines and Quantico Marines teams, there were contingents from the US Naval Academy and the army's 82nd Airborne Division, among others. The military presence at this race had been strong since the first running in 1963, maybe because it was JFK's challenge to the Marines in 1962 — see if you can walk fifty miles in a day, like Teddy Roosevelt's Marines did — that had been the original inspiration. At the time, Kennedy had reason to fear that the physical fitness of the American military was in severe decline. But this year, in the wake of 9/11, the "when the going gets tough" spirit seemed almost palpable.
A few yards away, I spotted Frank Probst, a guy I'd had a competitive rivalry with for most of the past decade. Frank was fifty-seven and still worked at army headquarters — although what he did there I didn't know. On that blue-sky September morning nine weeks ago, he had just stepped through an exit on the southwest side of the Pentagon, on his way to another part of the building, when a Boeing 757 roared very low across the adjacent road, coming straight at him. As it clipped off a utility pole, he threw himself to the ground and the plane missed him by about fifteen feet before exploding through the Pentagon's massive concrete wall. In the following days, as the attack's prime surviving witness, he'd had to replay his near-death experience in intensive interrogation, but now here he was — ready to run.
My reasons for entering this race were as complex — or simple — as my reasons for wanting to be alive. I'd been a competitive long-distance runner for the past forty-four years, and I was undeniably addicted. I had also just turned sixty, and it can feel disconcerting to a man at that age to find that he no longer has the strength or mojo that he once had, and that has always seemed an essential part of who he is. Part of my motivation was that I wanted to see if I could still run with guys who were in their twenties or thirties — or even forties. I had reasons to think maybe I could.
Possibly the biggest reason I was standing here, though, was about that most irreducible of all human needs — the instinct to survive. An ultramarathon race, or ultra, (any footrace longer than a marathon) is a ritual of survival. In a world beset by ever-more ominous threats — now heightened by those tragic events of two months ago — the need to not just hope and plan intelligently but to actively practice the art of survival had put a tightening grip on me.
Nearly a thousand marathon-hardened runners were entered — the maximum number the government would allow to run on the Appalachian Trail. I was one of the oldest people in the field, but I knew I had two advantages. First, I might well be the most experienced runner in this race, if not in the whole country, and I wanted to find out to what extent experience could trump youth, or at least keep pace with it. Our culture was more and more dominated by youth, and I frankly needed to know if I still counted. In a short-distance run, or sprint, there was little — well, nothing — an old guy could do to compete with a twenty- or twenty- five-year-old. Guys my age, no matter how tough or strong they might be, could never play wide receiver for the Redskins or Steelers, catching passes and sprinting for touchdowns. In a long run, though, it might be a different story. Maybe my experience could give me an edge.
The second advantage I had stemmed from the work I'd done for the past ten years at the Worldwatch Institute in Washington, DC, as an editor, parsing research reports from environmental scientists documenting what appeared to be the declining stability and sustainability of our civilization. Over the years, I'd noticed curious parallels between the ecology of human societies under duress and that of an individual human under great stress. I had begun to wonder, are these parallels more than just coincidence? Earlier in my career, I'd spent seven years editing research reports for several of the pioneers of the environmental movement and had my first inklings that survival wasn't just an abstract, academic concept of interest to biology students studying Darwin; it was very here and now. Although most of the general public seemed oblivious, the scientists I worked with (and many others I would correspond with in later years) were deeply alarmed. The first scientist I'd done editing for, in the 1970s, was the nuclear physicist Theodore B. (Ted) Taylor, who earlier in his career, at Los Alamos, had designed the largest fission atomic bomb ever exploded on earth — the so-called Super Oralloy bomb, which was detonated over Enewetak Atoll in the Pacific in 1953 with a power thirty-seven times that of the bomb we dropped on Hiroshima. Dr. Taylor had also designed the smallest atomic bomb ever exploded — the so-called suitcase bomb, which could fit in the trunk of a car. By the time I met him, he had renounced that legacy and was laboring to warn the world of the dangers of nuclear leaks, thefts, accidents, and terrorism. He had surmised, several years ago, that the World Trade Center might be a prime target for terrorists armed with a suitcase bomb like the one he had designed.
Taylor's journal, which I was hired to edit, was distributed to all the national and international nuclear agencies — none of which seemed much interested in his warnings. There was a lot of money to be made in the new industry of nuclear power, and there were well-lubricated revolving doors between the nuclear agencies and utilities. The editing work was both intense and frustrating, and after work each evening I'd go out for long runs along the DC bank of the Potomac. Running gave me a needed escape, but at the same time I found myself meditating on those remarkable parallels I saw between our fast-growing global industries and our overstressed selves.
Now, a quarter of a century later, I was in a position to draw on what I'd learned about the nature of human capability, whether to power missiles or propel our own bodies, and to use that knowledge to run faster than I once would have thought possible for a man my age. Did that mean what I could do as a runner was now more important to me than what I could do for my embattled planet? Not really. But I had no control over what happened at the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, or International Atomic Energy Agency, or US Department of Energy — where, for all I knew, Ted Taylor's reports were just being fed to the shredder. I could at least have some control over what I did with my own body and soul. And in the long run, I thought, that might be what really counts.
* * *
We were tightly crowded together, the top-seeded guys in the front row using whatever subtle hip-bumping or leaning was needed to hold their places behind the white line, while the rest of us jammed as close as possible behind them on the narrow street. We were a sea of bare arms and legs and, despite the cold, even a few bare shoulders of road-racer types wearing singlets instead of high-tech T-shirts. There were men and women of all ages here, but the great majority were twenty to forty years younger than I. The sight of the younger ones bouncing up and down on their forefeet to keep warm threw my memory back to when I was their age. I felt too old now to be bouncing; I might need that bounce in the last mile.
I had started running with high school cross-country and track in the 1950s, followed by college cross-country and my first road races in the 1960s, when new chapters of the Road Runners Club of America were springing up all over the country, and eventually I'd gotten hooked on marathons. The first time I'd ever heard of an ultramarathon was in the early 1970s, when there were only a handful of ultras in the whole country. Now, at the outset of the twenty-first century, there were about five hundred ultras each year in the US — mostly on rugged rural or wilderness trails, far from public view. The JFK 50 Mile was — and is — the country's oldest and largest.
The JFK 50 began in the spring of 1963 as an unpublicized personal venture for a group of eleven men who initially called it the "JFK 50 Mile Challenge" — one of many so-named events that took place that year and the winter before in response to President Kennedy's challenge to the Marines. After the assassination in 1963, all the others discontinued, but this one quietly expanded — perhaps in part because of where it took place. The course the original group chose was both rich in natural wonders and redolent of American military history. It started right here where we were standing, in Boonsboro, Maryland, a town that had been founded by two cousins of the pioneer Daniel Boone a few years after the Revolutionary War. It followed the historic National Road up a long hill to a forested ridge where the civil war Battle of South Mountain left 5,867 men dead, wounded, or missing in action over at least six miles of the mountain's spine in 1862; eventually dropped down a precipitous escarpment to the Potomac River near Harpers Ferry, where John Brown attacked the US Arsenal in 1859 and was defeated by the Marines under the command of General Robert E. Lee; wended north along the C&O Canal Towpath past Antietam Battlefield, the site of the bloodiest day in American military history with a total of 23,000 casualties and with Lee now commanding the other side; passed Pack Horse Ford, where the surviving Confederates escaped across the Potomac after the bloodbaths at Antietam and Sharpsburg; left the Potomac River at one of the five dams the opposing armies struggled to control; and followed a rolling country road to the town of Williamsport, which George Washington visited in 1790 when it was being considered as a possible capital city for the United States.
The JFK 50 quickly became an iconic event among endurance runners, even as it remained virtually unknown to the sports media or public. By the 1990s, when ultras usually had at most a few hundred entrants, the JFK had to limit its field to a thousand. For the original race director, Buzz Sawyer, and his successor, Mike Spinnler, the JFK was a logistical challenge that the Civil War generals McClellan, Lee, and Stonewall Jackson, among others who knew this terrain, might have quite respected — helping a thousand men and women who were determined to run fifty miles in less than a day to achieve their goals without anyone dropping dead. By 2001, Spinnler had established a well-orchestrated routine: As his army of volunteers dispersed to their assigned positions at aid stations, medical tents, radio communications, and course monitoring posts, the runners and support crews would arrive at the Boonsboro High School in the predawn chill, gather in the gym to keep warm, then at 6:40 AM — still a little dark — take off their warm-ups, leave the gym, and walk three-fourths of a mile to the middle of the town, where a white line was painted across the street. The start would be at 7:00 sharp — right at sunrise. For many, the goal would be to reach Williamsport before dark returned, which in late November would be around 4:30 PM — a finishing time of 9 hours, 30 minutes. About half of the runners wouldn't make it until later, well after dark. You had 14 hours to finish before being disqualified. The fastest any man over sixty (my age bracket) had run this race, in its thirty-eight years so far, was 8 hours and 14 minutes. My goal — which I hoped wasn't just pie in the sky — was to finish under 8 hours.
So here we were, about to go forth like that newborn infant feeling the first rush of air into its lungs, beginning its own magical journey. Life is a mystery from the get-go, no less so for a runner at the start of a long race. Though I'd been experiencing this kind of moment for more years than anyone else here, I still marveled at the mental challenges — if nothing else, the challenges to just plain sanity and common sense. In the warm gym, we had huddled in our sweats and hoodies, yet now we stood in face-freezing cold wearing almost nothing. We were here to compete, yet there was no smack talk of the sort that seemed so common now in sports; with just a couple of minutes to go, runners were shaking hands, wishing each other well. And for all of us, this would be a deadly serious undertaking, yet there was an undercurrent of joshing and joking: "Excuse me, is this the line for coffee?"
Once, in the 1980s, I had met Muhammad Ali at the start of the Los Angeles Marathon, and he seemed to grasp, in a way that took me quite by surprise, the good-humored camaraderie of runners about to compete. I was there to report on the event for Running Times (a magazine I had founded in 1977 and still did some writing for), and when I climbed onto the photographers' platform overlooking the starting area, who should I see but the world's most legendary athlete, who'd been brought in to fire the starting gun. I shook his hand and asked, awkwardly, "So, what do you think of all these thousands of people warming up to run twenty-six miles?" I expected him to say something appropriate to the ceremonial nature of his presence, such as "It's a great thing; it's inspiring!" Instead, Ali fixed me with that baleful stare he'd so often laid on reporters, and said, "They got to be crazy!" I laughed, a bit nervously. I knew it was just a little jab, but it was a Muhammad Ali jab, and I was still on my feet! Remembering that now at the start of the JFK, it occurred to me — in the spirit of the moment — that if marathoners are crazy, people who run fifty miles on trails must be twice as crazy.
The guy with the bullhorn announced that we had thirty seconds, and then at 6:59:50 he began a countdown: "Ten, nine, eight ..." It was time to let my mind go blank, Zenlike. This was important. Over the few days before the event, I'd done a lot of mental rehearsing and spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about the first three miles, which quickly confront you with a strategic conundrum. The first mile, like a scene from an old Western, is just get out of town. No problem with that. But the next two miles are a fairly steep climb to the South Mountain pass, where you leave the road and enter a thirteen-mile segment of the 2,168-mile-long Appalachian Trail (AT). The conundrum is that on one hand you want to get to the trailhead before the horde does, because the AT is a rocky, single-track path — wide enough in most places for just one runner at a time, or two at most — and if you reach this bottleneck in the same minute as several hundred other determined people, you'll be slowed like bumper-to-bumper traffic squeezing past an accident, and you'll lose a lot of time. Best to get to the trailhead ahead of the traffic, if you can do so without too much strain. On the other hand, going up the South Mountain road, it would be a big mistake to go too fast. It's a tricky thing to balance, but once the race started I wanted to be on autopilot, not burning energy trying to calculate.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Longest Race"
by .
Copyright © 2013 Ed Ayres.
Excerpted by permission of The Experiment Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Map xii
Preface xv
1 Boonsboro, Dawn: The Start-When Life Begins Again 1
2 South Mountain: The Rush-and the Dilemma of Pacing 11
3 Appalachian Trail: What Are My Running Shoes For? The Journey from Barefoot Hunter to "Boots on the Ground to Where I Am Now 28
4 Weverton Cliff: The Art of Breathing and the Music of Motion: Do My Feet Have Eyes of Their Own? 45
5 Keep Tryst Road: With a Little Help from Our Friends: The Not-So-Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner 61
6 Towpath: Learning from Quarterbacks: The Slower-Is-Faster Phenomenon 72
7 Antietam Aqueduct: Redemption: A Recovering Strength for the Human Runner-and for the Human Race 85
8 Killiansburg Cave: Becoming a Persistence Hunter: The Long Day of Tracking, the Grateful Kill, the Celebration 99
9 Snyder's Landing: The Energy-Supply Illusion: Carbo-Loading, Body Heat, and Naked Skin 114
10 A Boiled-Potato Miracle: Burning Fat in a Carbohydrate Fire: A Secret of the Inca Messengers 129
11 Taylor's Landing: Negotiating with Fatigue-and Turning Long Hours into Moments 142
12 Dam Number 4: Seeing Around Bends: We Came, We Envisioned … We Got Disconnected 156
13 Country Road: The Blessing and Curse of Competition: Why Vince Lombardi Was Dead Wrong 167
14 Williamsport: If You Fall, Then You Crawl. What Is It About Finishing? 181
15 Late Afternoon: The Fading Light 197
Postscript: 2012 204
Appendix: Notes for an Aspiring Ultrarunner 209
Notes 233
Author Q&A 239
Acknowledgments 247
About the Author 251
What People are Saying About This
“Like the expert runner that he is, Ayres perfectly paces his tale and evokes the feeling of being on a long, rambling run with a very good friend. A gifted storyteller, he seamlessly moves between discussing running to exploring larger life issues such as why we run, our impact on the environment, and the effects of the nation’s declining physical fitness. The book is well structured, and the conversation is thought provoking, planting questions and ideas that readers will ruminate on long after the last page is turned. Ayres’ narrative skill makes this book stand out from other accounts of ultramarathons and is sure to appeal to both runners and nonrunners alike.”
—Booklist
“[Ed Ayres’] broad-ranging interests and accumulated wisdom will appeal to a wide readership, not just runners and environmentalists.”
—Kirkus
"The Longest Race is always the story of one epic 50-mile race in all its technical and visceral elements, and also a celebration of the sport of running and of our ability to keep running in changing times."
—Shelf Awareness
“Veteran long-distance runner Ayres, a 55-year competitor in more than 600 races, brings the reader along for his grueling trek on the 2001 JFK 50 Mile, the nation’s oldest ultramarathon, explaining some critical insights that enable one to cross the finish line. . . . Using Sheehan’s axiom of “listening to your body,” the author provides runners with crucial information and key tips, ending with his must-have “Notes for an Aspiring Ultrarunner,” advising on breathing, nutrition, attitude, technique, training, footwear, and terrain. Revealing, savvy, and fast-paced, Ayres’s eloquent book on marathon running is a master class on the priceless life lessons of enduring and conquering obstacles to victory.”
—Publishers Weekly
"Ultramarathon runner Ed Ayres is looking for a different kind of salvation—for the soul, for the planet. The races he’s been running for more than half a century have inspired athletes worldwide and reshaped our ideas about endurance and sustainability. . . Ayres’s new book, The Longest Race, is partly a chronicle of his experience in the fabled JFK 50 Mile ultramarathon, but it’s also about so much more. . . . Indeed, with all his talk about “oxygen debt” and “research depletion” it soon becomes clear that this book isn’t just about an athletic race. It’s also about the human race."
—Bloomberg
“This book reminds us that our strength and vitality can never be separated from the health of the earth we run on, and whose air we breathe.”
—Bill Rodgers, four-time New York Marathon winner and four-time Boston Marathon winner
“In this compelling read, visionary Ed Ayres takes us on a run that may save our nanosecond lives . . . and our planet. Most runners have the potential to be environmentalists, but after this book, we should be morally obligated. Take heart!—as Ayers says, ‘It’s a long work day, but the work is good.’”
—Kathrine Switzer, first woman to officially run the Boston Marathon, winner of the 1974 New York City Marathon, and author of Marathon Woman
“Ed Ayres is a legend who shares his many provocative insights and lessons in an informative yet enjoyable way. A true champion, Ed uses his gift to help us all be the best that we can be.”
—Dean Karnazes, athlete and New York Times bestselling author
“In this book Ed Ayres takes us on a journey through the highs and lows, the agonies and ecstasies, of his record-setting ultramarathon. With the head of a scientist, the heart of an endurance athlete, and the soul of an ultra-distance runner, he teaches us good stewardship not only for our bodies but also for this planet on which we tread and from which we draw sustenance. We can all learn from his words.”
—Naomi Benaron, author of Running the Rift
“An ultramarathon is made up of a million moments, and you’re different at the end than you were at the start—it’s the perfect metaphor, as Ed Ayres makes clear, for the race we’ve got to run now, with focus and grit, if we’re going to deal with the deepest trouble we’ve ever stumbled into as a planet.”
—Bill McKibben, Schumann Distinguished Scholar, Middlebury College
“The most clearly articulated account I’ve ever read as to the goings-on inside the mind of a runner.”
—Brendan Brazier, bestselling author of Thrive and formulator of Vega
“To read this book is to run alongside a seasoned athlete, a deep thinker, and a great storyteller. And Ayres doesn’t disappoint: He is the best kind of running companion, generously doling out hilarious stories and hard-won insights into performance conditioning and the human condition. His lifetime of ultra-running and environmental writing drive his exploration of what keeps us running long distances—and what it might take to keep the planet from being run into the ground.”
—Curtis Runyan, Editor, Nature Conservancy magazine
“One of the nation's leading environmental thinkers, and a nationally-ranked runner over half a century, Ed Ayres embodies the classic ideal: mens sana in corpore sano. Using as template his 2001 record-breaking running of America’s largest and oldest ultramarathon—the JFK 50 Mile—Ayres shows how the discipline of endurance running can lead us as individuals and a nation to environmental sustainability. Ayres confirms what a few of us have long suspected: In our greatest individual challenges, trail running proves itself just like life, only more so.”
—Tony Rossmann, environmental advocate, UC Berkeley law professor, and past president of the Western States Endurance Run
“Required reading for any aspiring ultrarunner. An inspirational story by someone who knows more about life on the run, and what it means to us, than many of us could dream of.”
—Robin Harvie, author of The Lure of Long Distances: Why We Run
“The Longest Race tells an extraordinary story of the athletic spirit fueled by, yet transcending, competition. Deep in our souls, it’s a thing we can find only through the hard work of caring and striving, not only for ourselves but for our fellow competitors, for life itself, and indeed for the fate of the Earth. We return to this spirit or we perish.”
—David Meggyesy, author of Out of Their League, Former Western Director, NFL Players Association
“An extraordinary journey of the human body, mind, and soul running together—not as hierarchical powers in a troubled civilization, but as a holistic and exhilarating display of ancient capabilities that lie at the heart of the human experience. This is a breathtaking, feet-on-the-ground story.”
—Marianne Williamson, author of A Woman’s Worth and Healing the Soul of America
“I have been reading Ed Ayres’s insightful thoughts on running and life since I started serious training in the 1970s. By reading The Longest Race I’m sure you will also benefit greatly from Ed’s wisdom.”
—Joe Friel, elite endurance athlete coach and author of The Triathlete’s Training Bible
“Ayres’s tale of the grueling JFK 50 Ultramarathon, where he placed first in his age group, is far more than a gripping account of an aging runner’s competition against self and others. It’s nothing less than a philosophical treatise on how to survive and thrive in a world of dwindling resources, alarming climate change, and haunting violence. It’s about a human race, but also the human race.”
—Larry Shapiro, PhD, author of Zen and the Art of Running
“Brilliant in its simplicity, rich in content, The Longest Race insightfully weaves history, nature, wisdom, love, and the spirituality of sports to help us learn lessons about ourselves and life. This inspirational book will change your relationship with running and other activities of passion. There is much, much love in his words.”
—Dr. Jerry Lynch, distance runner and author of The Way of the Champion
“Ed Ayres’s storytelling is first rate. His mix of historical events and personal history make for a compelling and poignant read about health, nutrition, and the environment. The Longest Race highlights how the fate of the planet is intimately connected to our own personal health. Ayres shows us how we can all make the world a better place through the way we live, the way we eat, and the way we interact with one another.”
—Danielle Nierenberg, Co-Director, State of the World
“Ed Ayres has a talent for drawing the reader into his adventure. You are at the starting line with him, chilly, lean, anxious to start the race. The next moment, you are off and racing through the story as you race through the course. His story details an iconic American ultra that I have been lucky enough to have run. I have seen it from the sharp end, winning it in the past, but also from the middle/back of the pack as it was my first ultramarathon and taught me all about pain, suffering, and, in the end, a special sense of accomplishment that few things can, and that is how I feel about this book: You come away with something worthwhile for the time you spend reading it. Enjoy the journey, it is a fun one.”
—Michael Wardian, 2007 JFK 50 Mile winner and 2011 JFK 50 Mile runner-up
“The Longest Race is ostensibly about Ed Ayres running the JFK 50 ultramarathon, a historically rich course that includes a number of Civil War battlefields. As he carries us with him along this course, he deftly uses the past to inform the present. His overarching question: What does it take for an individual as well as a civilization to go the distance without collapsing?”
—Lester R. Brown, President of Earth Policy Institute
“Ed Ayres frames The Longest Race within an eight-hour period at a single event—the John F. Kennedy 50 Mile race. Then between its start and finish lines he deftly weaves a lifetime’s experiences and observations: a memoir of a pioneering ultramarathoner and professional writer, a primer of advice on going long distances, an anthropological study of humans as runners, and a set of environmental/ecological essays. Each topic alone would have made a good book. Together they yield a great one, richly detailed and finely written.”
—Joe Henderson, former editor, Runner’s World
“Ed Ayres has masterfully intertwined his world view, gleaned from over 50 years as a runner and an astute observer of societal trends, with a stirring account of his quest to break the 60+ record at the JFK 50 Mile. The result is a compelling story about one man and mankind.”
—Phil Stewart, Editor and Publisher, “Road Race Management Newsletter” and Event Director, Credit Union Cherry Blossom 10-Mile
“This is not just a book about running—about putting one foot in front of another—it is rich in history, it is thoughtful, intelligent, often very personal, and provides an exploration of our sport. By using comparisons from everyday life events, Ayers makes our sport become more real…more human. A brilliant and fun read for runners and non-runners alike.”
—Nancy Hobbs, Executive Director of the American Trail Running Association
“An epic story of how important our fitness as individuals may be to the long-run sustainability of our national and global security.”
—Jacqueline Hansen, two-time world-record holder for the women’s marathon, Boston Marathon winner, and first woman to run a sub-2:40 marathon
“The Longest Race takes you inside the head of one of the pioneers of the modern running movement. Ed Ayres has devoted his life to running, was a national-class runner, and is the former publisher and editor of Running Times, one of the first and premier magazines written exclusively about running. Reading this book should help you understand the passion for running that he shares with devoted runners everywhere.”
—Gabe Mirkin, MD, former Medical Editor, Runner’s World, and Host of the The Dr. Gabe Mirkin Show
“This is a story of critical connections—between ancient sunlight and the prospects for the dimming future; between the wind in a long-distance runner’s face and the astonishing ability of his Paleolithic hunter-ancestors to have survived on a planet of far faster, more powerful predators and prey; between the secrets of the deep past, which we unknowingly carry in our DNA and anatomy, and the guidance we need to form a more vital and viable civilization in the coming years. It’s about the dawning realization that we need to rediscover how to think not just on our feet but with our feet.”
—Thom Hartmann, Host of the Thom Hartmann Radio and TV shows
“This is an excellent attempt by Ed Ayres to highlight the numerous parallels between an individual’s strategy for surviving a long-distance race, and the human race’s urgently-required strategy for pure survival.In both cases, sustainability is the key.It’s relatively simple for an individual to plan and control his own race strategy, but in a world where short-term excesses always seem to be handsomely rewarded, who is able to take the long-term view regarding the survival of the human race? We undoubtedly need visionary leaders to take us out of the mess we are in. But perhaps it’s not just our politicians who need to read books like this. We all do.”
—Julian Goater, former English National Cross-Country Champion
“Ed’s book is a great read! Felt like I was there running the JFK 50 with him. A good testament to human spirit and it’s endurance in utrarunning.”
—Catherine Harding, Ontario Ultra Series Coordinator and Ultra Runner
“In a culture addicted to quick hits, fast times and unrelenting over-stimulus, Ed Ayres speaks with the voice of wisdom, simplicity, and acceptance of what is. The Longest Race offers many life lessons learned through Ayres’s long-time practice of endurance running. He speaks volumes on two things we could all use: more simplicity—and a sense of pacing. We highly recommend this book to anyone ready to step off the speeding train and do a freefall into the present.”
—Danny and Katherine Dreyer, authors of Chi Running, Chi Walking and Chi Marathon
“By the very nature of their endeavor, ultra runners have lots of time to think. In running and writing The Longest Race, Ed Ayres shares what ran through his mind during a memorable JFK 50 Mile—and it wasn’t just nutrition, pacing and tactics.
In one thought-provoking passage, Ayres compares the impact of oxygen debt on a human runner with resource depletion for the human economy. Anyone who has ever been short of breath, for whatever reason, should understand that analogy as well as the need for us all to do something to stem the tide of resource depletion.
The thoughtful reader will find much to ponder in The Longest Race. Here’s hoping most readers turn thoughts into action on behalf of this earth.”
—Keith Peters, Director of Marketing and Promotion, Nike
“I found the book to be a page-turner effectively telling multiple stories with sage-like insight. The book succeeds in providing many life lessons that tie human endurance with a healthy planet. Ed Ayres is a student of life. From environmental research to human evolution and some Civil War history, he ties it all together as a long-distance runner in his life-learning race with insight for all. The book documents the importance of JFK’s fitness challenge to the country, a challenge still needed today by many.”
—Gary Corbitt, son of Ted Corbitt, Founder and first President of the Road Runners Club of America