Joe Biden’s Lessons for Ultrarunners, Discovered Mid-Ultra

I was approaching Mile 37 of the Whiskey Basin Trail Run when I got the news last Saturday afternoon.

I had been reluctant to turn on my phone during this 57-mile ultra through high desert and piñon-juniper woodlands on the Prescott Circle Trail around Prescott, Arizona. I knew my phone would blow up with notifications, and I feared the news would be bad. But I wanted to listen to music for the final 20 miles, for the boost and distraction that a playlist would provide, so I had to turn it on.

I know, I could have silenced the notifications. But I wanted to peek for an update. I had been glued to the news all week, my stomach clenched with anxiety—fueled by uncertainty and powerlessness, along with deep concern for my kids’ future—from Tuesday night on, after it became clear that our nation is almost evenly split in opinion over the election, with so much anger and mistrust on both sides.

This split does not surprise me, but saddens and deeply worries me. I live in Colorado’s 3rd Congressional District, which reflects this split. Our district covers almost the whole western and southern half of the state, encompassing Republican-leaning medium-sized towns and Democratic-leaning ski areas. Although Colorado as a whole turned blue and elected a Democratic senator (Hickenlooper) to replace the Republican incumbent (Gardner), our district’s hard-working, conservative rural areas view Trump like a rock star. A young, gun-toting, far-right rookie who’s sycophantic to Trump, Lauren Boebert, beat the more moderate Republican in the primary and then the Democratic challenger last week, so now she’s my representative to Congress.

I came to this ultra not only wanting to run and break my goal time. I wanted to reconnect with the ultra scene and the rugged beauty of the outdoors, two things that tend to bring out good qualities in people and unify them. I’ve missed this scene and its community so much during the pandemic. Road tripping, staying in a hotel and getting up early for a 5 a.m. start felt like a throwback to a better time.

Race morning selfie taken at 3:55 a.m.

I was in the first wave of small-group starts, and we took off before sunrise in total darkness with a severe wind blowing in storm clouds. I felt smooth, strong and well-rested. Thanks to having this ultra on my calendar, I had made a decision the prior Sunday to eat healthy and abstain from alcohol while tapering during the election week, because I knew otherwise that I’d overindulge on wine and comfort food to cope with stress anticipating the vote tallies.

Near the starting line with my friend Soon-Chul Choi.

The good taper week paid off with running well for the first half of this race, the miles ticking by problem-free. I shared the first 20 miles with a man from Atlanta, and we chatted amicably about apolitical topics. Then I spotted three Telluride-area friends who surprised me with hellos and cheers along the course (they had driven down to run the shorter races taking place the following day). All of this buoyed my mood and helped keep me on pace at an average of 12:30 per mile (which actually is relatively speedy for me, given the trail terrain and the stops at aid stations). I wanted to maintain that pace to break 12 hours.

Running the early miles at sunrise. Photo by Jesse Ellis of Let’s Wander Photography

Finally, it was time to turn on my music, which meant turning on my phone.

It buzzed and beeped as expected. I only cared about messages from my family. As I hiked along the trail, I zeroed in on a thread from my husband and kids sharing their reaction to the breaking news that Biden clearly had gained enough Electoral College votes to win, and immediately I felt tears spring to my eyes.

I felt disoriented and borderline euphoric as I hiked along the trail, disbelief mixed with relief. I kept hiking while reading my phone. My daughter had texted this video of Van Jones’ reaction to the news, which I watched, and it made me cry.

I was having a hard time refocusing on the ultra. The emotional jolt and enormity of the news hit like an adrenaline rush, and then it began to wear off, and I really wished I were back in the hotel room catching up on the news and talking to my husband on the phone. Being on this trail in Arizona, with 20 miles until the finish line, suddenly felt like the wrong place to be. Plus, I was getting cold. The temperature was dropping, the wind was blowing, and flurries of graupel (soft small hail, not quite snow) were starting to fall.

This is the only photo I took during the ultra. I was looking at the sky to gauge the incoming storm, and I was struck by the dramatic light.

So I turned on my music, started running to warm up again, and thought about Biden—about Biden’s ultra. I dislike the hackneyed expression, “It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” because to me a marathon is a sprint. Biden had accomplished so much more than a metaphorical marathon. He had survived a grueling 100-miler, one he had trained his whole life for. It’s as if he ran several shorter ultras building up to the big one, DNFing a couple of times and learning from the experience. He got to the finish when it mattered most.

As my muscles stiffened and ached in the final third of the route, I reflected on the past year and gained inspiration from Biden’s character. He is someone who personifies perseverance and stamina. Yeah, he’s old. Yeah, he’s flawed and sometimes borderline bumbling. Yeah, he’s more moderate and pragmatic than progressive and idealistic. This could describe me, too.

These are the lessons I took from him:

Be patient. Ultrarunning demands patience and steadiness. Biden took his time during the campaign and acted deliberately, never impulsively. He kept his cool and stayed patient as the vote count dragged into Saturday morning. “Keep the faith,” his social media messaged last Thursday. That’s what I tell myself during ultras. Have faith that one foot in front of the other really will get you there.

Be resilient. Recover from setbacks and be tough. Keep going. Biden’s whole life is about comebacks. He overcame a stutter. He lost a wife and daughter, then remarried, then lost a son. He was defeated twice before when running for president. He didn’t give up. He’s a rock.

Run your own race. Don’t go out too fast with others, don’t compare yourself to others. Make your own race plan and stick to it. Biden always stayed true to who he was, and why he was running. Earlier this year, Democrats treated him as the default candidate, not the favorite. Critics said he’s too old, too moderate, to willing to compromise, too prone to gaffes. The far right demonized him. He didn’t change, he kept pressing on as the same person he’s always been. When he addressed the nation Saturday night, it seemed clear to me that he is the right leader—the experienced yet humble moderate seeking unity and healing—for this time.

Be good enough. In ultrarunning, you don’t have to be really fast or have a typical runner’s body to do well. You don’t have to be great or perfect. You just have to be good enough, and determined enough, and experienced enough. Joe Biden isn’t a larger-than-life celebrity or an intellectual giant. But he is plenty good enough, dependable and determined enough, and his relatability is an asset.

Build experience. If you’re undertrained, and if you’re aging and feeling your age, you can still tough out an ultra if you have the muscle memory and the past finishes to cultivate a mindset to get to the finish. You’ve got the experience to prevent problems or troubleshoot challenges that arise. “I’ve done this before, I can do this again,” I tell myself as I run. Experience cultivates confidence and a belief in oneself. Biden is undeniably experienced. He’s been training for the job of president his whole adult life. He knows how to govern on the world stage and how to get the job done.

Build relationships. We think of ultrarunning as a solitary sport, but usually we run our best when we have mentors, pacers and crew. The community can feel like family. It’s a big tent that brings together all kinds. Biden is effective as a lifelong legislator and leader because he builds and draws on relationships, both political and personal. Compare that to someone like Bernie Sanders, who, as Hillary Clinton infamously said (kinda like the pot calling the kettle black), “nobody likes him.” Nobody talks that way about Joe Biden. He is remarkably well liked for a politician because he collaborates with so many people and genuinely has empathy to relate to them.

Don’t be an asshole. This point is related to the one above and is a stronger way of saying, “Be nice,” and I use nice as an umbrella term that includes being kind, empathetic, humble and grateful. This is advice for life, but it matters in ultrarunning, too. Angry, arrogant runners rarely succeed in this sport (or if they do, it’s usually short-lived before a flame-out, and they’re usually unpopular), because the trail humbles us all. Ultrarunners realize that no matter how fit and well-trained we may individually be, we may be tripped up by the trail and our bodies may blow up and fail before the finish. As much as we compete with one another, we feel a camaraderie because the real competition is against the trail’s challenges and our own perceived limitations. Being nice to other runners and volunteers at an ultra also serves the practical purpose of making you feel less stressed, less self-absorbed and more supported, which can actually make you physically feel and run better.

It’s indisputable who, in the presidential race, is the nice guy who puts service above self, and who is the narcissist who puts self-interest above country and all else.

The brewing storm that hung over this ultra never developed into something really threatening, which I took as a positive omen. I put my windbreaker on and took it off again some 10 times, wasting time getting it in and out of my pack, because I kept getting cold and then too warm. I did the math and realized, around mile 50 with about 7 miles left, that I wasn’t likely to break 12 hours, but that’s OK, I’d be close enough and good enough. I got to that 50 mile mark right at 10.5 hours, which is more than an hour slower than my time at the Lake Sonoma 50, and LS50 is arguably a tougher course. Well, that was then, this is now. I’m going to be patient and get the job done. I’m going to press on and run with joy and optimism, pushing away self-criticism.

About 1.5 miles from the finish. Photo by Jesse Ellis, Let’s Wander Photography.

I got to the finish in 12 hours, 3 minutes, good enough for 6th female and in the top third of entrants (results). When I saw Sam, Wayne and Cara from Telluride cheering me at the finish, I couldn’t help cheering back, “This one’s for Joe Biden!” I suspected the weeks ahead would be messy and divisive, perhaps even dangerous, because of the character of the current president and his unwillingness to accept defeat and facts. But at the moment, it was time to celebrate this finish.

Finishing the 57-mile Whiskey Basin Trail Run. Photo by Sam Tischendorf