The ultramarathoner's wife

Jeremy has run several ultramarathons, along with a few other quirky, long-distance-y events (like a late-night 20k followed by an early morning 20k, in the sand dunes of Dubai). I've only been to the finish line of one of his big races in the UAE, though - his three-day 140k in January. We missed his big finish that day by 15 minutes.

So I haven't spent a lot of time around other spouses of ultramarathoners - until Saturday. Jeremy ran the Beaverhead 55k (34 miles) Endurance Run in Salmon, Idaho. At the finish line gathering area, all of a sudden I saw people just like me: fatigued men and women with a couple of kids in tow, waiting for their super-fit runner spouses, navigating through a crowd of still more super-fit runners. You could spot an ultra spouse by looking for the member of a husband/wife pair who wasn't wearing stretchy pants. (And who wasn't ragged and dirty from running 55k.)

Obviously, Jeremy gets a lot of congratulations and encouragement for his ultramarathons. And he should, because he deserves it. It is hard, often solitary work that stretches the mind and body.

But what has surprised me over the last year or so is how much congratulations and encouragement I get as the spouse of an ultramarathoner. And I think I should, because I deserve it, too. I am also performing hard, often solitary work that stretches the mind and body.

Because an ultramarathoner does not just run ultramarathons. S/he trains for ultramarathons. When Jeremy leaves the house to go on a run, he is often gone for hours. That means he misses the bedtime slog, or Saturday morning chaos, or any other given chunk of a weekday or weekend. We miss him when he's gone. And we don't often get to see the direct result of all that training, or share in the euphoria of success.

That's why it was so gratifying to be at the finish line in Salmon this weekend and see him at the end of his 55k. The ultramarathoner, the ultramarathoner's wife, and the ultramarathoner's three children.

I'll end with one of the greatest "mom stories" I've ever heard. At the end of the three-stage 140k race in January, a mother of four crossed the finish line and called her family back in the UK. She had just run all day for three days straight, carrying everything she needed on her back (food, spare clothes, gear, etc.) and sleeping in a tent in the desert at night. But when she talked to her four children, all they could ask her was, "when are you coming home, Mom? I can't find my ___, where did you put it, Mom?" These ultramarathoners have lives as much as the rest of us, and even days of running on end can't shake that. Thank goodness!