Spinning significance from a senseless slog

Contributing to a chosen culture via running

Last Saturday, I felt what it’s like to be a spider. Let me explain.

As I’ve (probably over-)promoted on this platform, I hosted a 50k ultramarathon out of my backyard called Slos. Against all good sense, I plastered my address all over the internet and invited all who would come to join me and my friends in a senseless, masochistic endeavor: to run 6.75-mile laps of Mount Sanitas from my house, five times (or so).

The first racer opened my gate at 6:25am as I was finishing setting up the aid station. Brendan had somehow heard about the race online and had flown in from Virginia, solo, to join us in our Sisyphean effort that day. Minutes later, friends and strangers alike began to stream into my yard in greater numbers. By the time my co-host Jack and I delivered our pre-race meeting to review the course and the rules (there were no rules beyond “please don’t say this is a race to any park rangers, please don’t sue us for getting hurt doing this stupid event, please have fun”) at 7am, we had thirty racers assembled.

With our speech delivered, the race began. The group thinned out as we made our way through my neighborhood to the trailhead. The south ridge of Mount Sanitas is an absolute slog uphill, gaining 1,110 feet of elevation in just a mile, and so everyone was ultrarunning this section—and by ultrarunning, of course, I mean hiking.

We threaded our way through throngs of hikers enjoying the beautiful spring morning to summit in good time. The smooth run down Lions Lair trail off the backside of the mountain felt easy and fun. I’ve heard it said that when you’re running an ultra, if you feel bad, eat something; if you feel good, slow down. At least I remembered the first half of the adage that day…

The fact that Jack and I independently made the same face to our photographer is an indication of why we became such fast friends.

Back at the house, my roommates were graciously setting up tents, drinks, and snacks. By lap two, our Chief Party Officers were playing music, drinking beers, and cooking quesadillas for the runners as additional waves of single-lappers joined the race. Runners starting and ending laps intersected at the base of the mountain, exchanging cheers and high-fives. I got to talk to almost everyone who participated, whether on the trail or at the aid station, meeting new people, discovering hidden connections, and shooting the shit with good friends.

A bit after lunch, our DJ finished his single lap and started his set. The party at the aid station was in full swing, more single-lappers were arriving, and the unrelenting sun was getting HOT.

At the end of the third lap, I realized my low volume of training (i.e., not training) was going to prevent me from completing the prescribed five laps, but after a lengthy hang at the aid station I departed for a fourth and final lap. I’d never run more than twenty miles in one go and hadn’t run more than a half marathon or so all year. Even still, I managed to crawl down Lions Lair back to the house to complete a fourth lap in time to learn how to mix songs with our DJ, eat a whole package of Oreos, and dominate in Mario Kart Double Dash on a TV set up in the backyard.

Tons of folks made it three or four laps, but only four brave souls persevered through the heat and finished the entire race’s five laps: in order of finishing, Shay, Kate, Luke, and Kyra. As promised, there was no prize for first.

Jack and I posing as finishers with the actual finishers. We did deliver a trophy of a 3d topo of the race to Kyra as our last finisher!

The party continued through the afternoon and into the evening, well after Kyra crossed the finish line and we sprayed the finishers with champagne. All day, I watched as people exchanged phone numbers and made plans for future activities. I was invited to a weekly gravel ride. I heard new friends planning a ski attempt of a 14er later in the week. Community!!!

“Believing, with Max Weber, that man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun, I take culture to be those webs, and the analysis of it to be therefore not an experimental science in search of law but an interpretive one in search of meaning.”

- Clifford Geertz

Anthropologists have defined culture in a million ways, but I prefer Geertz’s focus on a search for meaning. Yes, culture is about behavior, how you dress, what you eat, how you speak. But ultimately these things inform what is important to a people. Their beliefs and their values. The why of their lives.

I live in a chosen culture. I’ve written a lot about Boulder and its absurdities, but Slos race day made clear that despite valid complaints, there is something special here. This kind of culture is different from one you’re born into by nature of where you live, or your ethnicity, or your religion. While less foundational than one of these capital-C Cultures, this chosen culture is no less central to my life. This culture is one of athletes, one of people who love and want to protect the land they live on and the public lands they own, and people who enjoy self-imposed tribulations. Above all, it is a culture that values experience.

And so, sitting under a tent back at the house, alternating between cups of Gatorade and cans of Montucky Cold Snacks, I felt like Geertz’s spider. If culture is a web, then Jack and I got to sit at the center of it last week. Telarian, we spun silky threads that connected a group of people, at least for a day.

Our record-keeping was poor, but I believe we convinced between 40-60 people to run at least a lap of Mount Sanitas that day. Our whiteboard counted 105 laps, for 710 miles and 724,000 thousand vertical feet. These dozens of people, from around the Front Range and as far away as North Carolina and Virginia, for some reason chose to spend their day in pursuit of such a pointless and hard thing. They exercised their free will in such a way to create meaning out of something that is meaningless. They created culture.

I’m happy to have played a role in facilitating this day. For those who couldn’t join… we’ll see you next year!

Photos courtesy of the talented and generous @cocotakesphoto. Thanks so much!