Marathon Man
Marathon Man
Tuesday six miles the packet read. Wednesday eight miles, Thursday 10 miles, Friday 12 miles.
Mike Wardian is nervous. Its the day of the race and he has covered all his bases. The competition has been scouted, the conditions of the course checked and rechecked, his own body monitored closely. He eats several hours before the race, something light, pasta or a sandwich. He carries with him several watches to keep track of time and a water bottle filled with energy gel. Sometimes he has pacers friends who run alongside him to keep a steady rhythm or assistants who bring him food and water on the course. Other times he is alone, with just the sound of his constant footfalls and the mechanic whispering of his breath. The race begins easily; the early miles are all about setting a good pace. But the struggles soon come in waves. A cramp in the foothills of South Africa, a bit of pain in the Sahara desert, dehydration from the heat of Death Valley, the simultaneous feeling of starvation and nausea that
By Lewis Kendall
tive, over the course of the run Wardian averaged a tepid 6:38 mile. For 26 miles. Of course, he has improved a little since then. His personal best is now a shade under 2:18, an average of a 5 minute 13 second mile. But although he enjoys marathons, his true passion lies in running longer distances. He is a member of the US Track and Field 50k and 100k teams, a winner of bronze, silver and gold medals at the Track and Field World Championships, and has been named the USATFs Ultra Runner of the Year every year since 2008. Between his runs, Wardian goes to work. He is a full-time employee of Potomac Maritime LLC, an international ship broking company that helps to deliver aid cargo to foreign countries. And when he is not running or working, he finds time to coach his kids basketball team. **** A few years later, it is June in Torhout, Belgium. The town of 20,000, located only a stones throw from the coastal city of Bruges, is alive with people. Runners make their way through the streets as part of the annual Night of Flanders, a series of road races in the northern province of the country. Wardian is there, thousands of miles from his house but still somehow at home. He glides through the cool night air as families emerge from their houses, setting up chairs alongside the road where they drink and eat, cheering at the runners passing by. Wardian is not alone for this race. As he runs a loop through the city, he
passes a staging of carnival rides erected temporarily as part of the festival, more entertainment for the spectators. From above, accompanied by their mother, two young children watch their father run. It is past their bedtime, but they are having too much fun twirling through the sky and cheering the small man down below. The hours melt away and the hoots from the bystanders gradually become more raucous. Wardian passes them once more. The boys try to stay awake. He passes again. They want to see their father win. When Wardian laps next, the two are sound asleep. Two years after the race in Belgium, Wardian is back running in Virginia. As Spiderman. He has come to set the world record for fastest marathon in a superhero costume, a mark set by a close friend of his. The run, however, proves more difficult than he anticipated. The web slingers mask has no mouth hole and so Wardian is forced to puncture his own in order to take in fluids during the race. This tactic backfires as the water quickly soaks into the material of the mask making it nearly impossible to breathe and forcing him to suck precious drops from the fabric. Spideys eyes are cumbersome as well, the silver material reflecting the suns blinding rays directly into Wardians face. To make matters worse the costumes fake muscles are incredibly absorbent, and the more he sweats and drinks, the heavier the outfit becomes, dragging him down like an oversized, soaked poncho. Despite all of the superheros shortcomings, Wardian manages to flop across the line in record
time. For Wardian, there is no end in sight. The careers of marathon runners can extend into their sixth and seventh decades, and anyway the 37- year- old, who has had no real injury problems, has too much left to accomplish. He wants to set personal bests in every distance. He wants to win an individual gold medal in the 100k World Championships. He wants to run the fastest transit of the Panama Canal. In the world of running, the only limits are the ones you impose upon yourself. It is midday and Wardian has taken his lunch break to go on the ultimate D.C. sightseeing tour. He meets a friend and they start off at a comfortable pace. They circle the large Iwo Jima monument; they pass the White House talking constantly of politics, family, friends and places to eat. They glide past the Washington Monument, the Capitol, the Air and Space Museum. Two runners match them stride for stride as they jog along the length of the Reflecting Pool, rippling alongside in perfect synchronization. They run by decades of history; the Holocaust Museum, the National Gallery of Art and the Smithsonian all fade in their wake. Wardian knows the route well. It is populated, but there is plenty of room to run on the wide paths. The pair crosses into West Potomac Park where the famous cherry blossoms are just beginning to dot the sky with their bright pink buds. The scene is serene, interrupted only by occasional chatter and the sound of footfalls. The wind is light and the water calm. And Wardian keeps running.
Wardian races in countless ultramarathons but still lkes to show his personality, competiting for the world record as Spiderman Photos courtesy of Mike Wardian