I heard a new broadcaster remark this week that it’s important right now that we “do not lose faith in humanity.” It was in reference to the 11 people that were gunned down at Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh. It brought me back to classrooms on college campuses, and how after our lock-down drills I would worry about the possibility of something going wrong in a classroom under my charge as a professor, or the prospect of a disgruntled student returning to a classroom for revenge. I am not a pessimist by any means, but I am a realist. We have been reminded again and again of late that we are vulnerable at best whether we are at the mall, in a place of worship, or at work, and that guns in the wrong hands can result in irrevocable damage. A few days later, on November 3rd, I heard about a shooting in a yoga studio in Tallahassee, Florida, in which two yogis were murdered. I’ve practiced yoga for some 23 years and have frequented studios across the US and abroad, too. Yoga studios for me, have always provided a haven, a sense of coming home. I do not believe I am alone in this sentiment. Days later in Thousand Oaks, California, there was another shooting at a local bar on college night that left twelve people dead. I don’t know what to say about the world we live in other than that it has shifted, and I don’t claim to have the answers to all of today’s issues, but I have experienced an alternate universe, in which people of all shapes and sizes and backgrounds come together and give their all to accomplish what may seem silly amidst our world’s strife, yet somehow, to me, seems more valuable than ever.
Two weekends back, attending my 7th Javelina Jundred out at McDowell Mountain Regional Park in Arizona, there were some 700 runners, many of whom had camped out in tents alongside one another, sharing portable toilets that were situated across the grounds, who were intent on running 100 miles or 100K (62.1 miles) out in the Sonoran desert landscape, complete with Saguaro Cactus, granite boulders, and dry wash-beds , where the javelina, coyotes, and tarantulas roam. Regardless of the states or countries that each of these runners were from, regardless of their ability, speed, age, or whether they came alone or brought their families along, what unified them was the race and their fear, passion, commitment, and excitement to get started and to see what they were made up of.
Ultramarathons – defined by any race beyond the 26.2 marathon distance – attract people of all ages, abilities, backgrounds. From my experience, whether they take place in Florida, California, New York, Brazil, or any other state or country, everyone who takes part is kind to one another. Runners, crew, volunteers alike cheer one another on. People say thank you and please to one another. They help and serve one another. Regardless of how sweaty, dirty, cold, beat up, or dysfunctional a runner is, there are volunteers who do not hesitate to help them to eat some food, change out of dirty socks, or get back out on the road or trail. At ultramarathons, crowds, crew, and aid station support cheer runners on and do whatever they can to assist them in their journey. There is no judging, only encouragement. I’ve been to 100’s of races. It is always the same – love, warmth, belonging, family. People aspiring to subhuman feats of running 100 miles or more over rocky, technical terrain in time frames ranging from some 13 hours to 32 hours. Anyone who toes the start line or crosses the finish line is made to feel like a winner.
At Javelina Jundred, as with other races, I was constantly amazed at aid station volunteers who took time out of their busy lives to assist strangers to realize their dreams. I was constantly amazed at the leaders of the race pack smiling at the slower runners who they intersected with on the washing machine loops. I was amazed at the patience and care that the race directors took to make the race a great experience for each of the runners, and the chorus of “good jobs” that abounded on the course as runners passed one another. Javelina, like other ultramarathons, was a testament to people being kind to one another. Throughout the day, as the sun and desert heat took its toll on the runners, aid station volunteers filled our bandanas, packs, and hats with ice, and helped us to sponge off with ice water. They poured us drinks and refilled our water bottles, always asking as one runner after another poured into the aid stations, “what can I get for you, what do you need?” At one point, in the middle of the night, when I was cold, sleep deprived, and nervous about the approaching cut-off time, a volunteer made me a cup of instant mashed potatoes to warm up and give me a burst of carb-endorsed energy before I headed back out onto the trail. The patience, grace, and kindness that runners and volunteers alike grant one another at an ultramarathon grounds me in the world I want to live in – a world in which the phrase, “I am my brother’s keeper” rings true. 
How can this humanity, this drive, this love for others at challenging, stressful, and overnight (as in no one is well rested) races co-exist in our world in which hate crimes and senseless atrocities have become the norm? Why can’t life resemble the code of ethics at an ultramarathon? At an ultra the struggle is still there, as is the pain, the grief, the grind, but there is also a sense of togetherness, of persistence, of transcendence, and ultimately, accomplishment. People want one another to succeed and reach their potential. How can we bottle this up and spread it across communities? How can we reach the people who need community and support the most and show them alternate realities?
With so much fear, loathing, and hate presenting itself in our daily lives, I am grateful that I tapped into the ultra community in which camaraderie, commitment, persistence, a desire to transcend, and an appreciation for hard times and getting through them reigns supreme. The ultra-community has reminded me of the fact that there are so many amazing people out there each with their own stories – many of survival and overcoming – and that in a world in which there are people intent to destroy, there are also those intent to make the world a better place, one step, one high five, one crossed finish line at a time.