When I heard about Zach Bates’ running feats, I was impressed. Zach is an ultramarathoner on the Autism Spectrum who completed the Cocodona 250-mile race in 4 days, 23 hours. Ultra-distance running takes a certain type of runner, and hearing about Zach reminded me of a former athlete of mine. I’d coached our cross country team for 8 years while teaching high school science and knew the challenges of getting those kids to keep running in practices and not give up. For some students on the Autism Spectrum, running becomes an obsession. This is the story of one of those athletes.
Carl was a junior on the Oakley School cross country team. He was a competent runner who was more endurance than speed. Our three-to-five mile training runs didn’t really phase Carl, he quietly persevered in his own calm manner, out of breath and sweaty at the end of runs, but with a smile as he wiped perspiration off his glasses. He had an excellent season slowly beating personal records multiple times at our 3.1 mile races. I wondered if his Autism Spectrum diagnosis helped with his progression.
Part of the fun of cross country coaching is seeing the team compete on different venues here in northern Utah. Our team ran on trails in the mountains, on paths in the desert, on old mining roads, and across boardwalks through marshes. Our running took us on a tour of the best parts of nature, building camaraderie through the grit of wind, rain, and 6am practices in the cold. We taught our runners to put socks on their hands to stay warmer and have something to wipe their nose on.
At the end of the season, Carl was in the mid to upper level of the team. Not our #1 runner, but maybe 5th or 6th. His lanky frame and sinewy quads built not only muscle but determination and a sense of pride. At our boarding school, there was a pond between the two dorms with a paved path around it. Carl ran through the winter season on his own to maintain his strength and fitness. Come spring, he increased his mileage, running laps around the pond and off campus. He hand-measured the pond loop and calculated 7.5 laps to equal a mile. His goal was to run the Ogden marathon in mid-May.
Carl recruited a fellow teammate, Peter (though not on the Autism Spectrum), to train with him, and Peter agreed to do the marathon as well. As race day came closer, they recruited a dorm coach to drive them up early that Saturday morning, meeting at 4:30am at the dorm. The problem was, 5am came, and no car or driver showed up. Carl and Peter heard that the car had overheated and was stuck on the highway. They had no ride.
After a few minutes of frustration, anxiety, and trying to problem-solve how to get to the marathon, they were stuck. Instead they decided to calculate the 26.2 mile length in laps around the pond: 196.5 laps. With no race support stations, they filled their water bottles, set out snacks, and laced up their shoes. Their ad hoc race course would suffice. Plus, the day was sunny, in the 70’s, and with a light breeze–perfect for distance running.
Both athletes started off at the same time, pacing each other, switching the lead for a mental break or change in scenery. They kept a healthy 9-minute-per-mile pace for most of the race, slowly increasing to 10 minutes or more as the miles added up.
For anyone who has run a marathon, you know that miles sixteen to twenty are the toughest. No man’s land. Sixteen to twenty are grey, insignificant as numbers in a race. Past the half-marathon mark...not quite to twenty. The ambiguity can test the mettle of any seasoned runner. Both Carl and Peter ran smartly through this section, hydrating and snacking when needed. But at mile 22, Peter cracked. The leg cramps and pain in his side combined with miles of pounding the pavement were too much to bear. With 4 miles left, Peter collapsed under the shade of a maple tree, red-faced and sweaty. Carl kept running.
Was Carl’s ability to endure a result of training? Or his Autism? Or some funky combination of both? Usually at the end of the cross country season, kids stop running and move on to something else. But Carl was different. His marathon run of 196.5 laps around the pond was a testament to something special, but I wasn’t quite convinced it was just his physical prowess. At the end of the marathon, Peter was stoked for Carl, even though he’d been outrun. Plus, running twenty-two miles is nothing to sneeze at. Both young men had accomplished something, with no official course, no spectators lining the race, no one cheering them on, and no finish line celebration. I was impressed.
Cross country running is not an easy sport. The aches and pains remind us we are human. As a runner, you have to stretch, hydrate well, eat well, and make changes to your daily routine to fit in practices and meets. And for some reason, coaches like early morning runs in the cold. I love seeing the growth in our athletes–in my 20 years in education there are a few snapshot memories that burn brightly. The tenacity and perseverance of these two young men is one of my favorite coaching memories.
For more info about the very successful, Autistic runner Zach Bates, check him out at:
@running.farther on Instagram
https://edition.cnn.com/2022/04/02/sport/zach-bates-ultramarathon-autism-spt-intl/index.html
Search: New York Times, When Running 250 Miles Is The Easy Part
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