by Don Buraglio

As if running 100 miles wasn’t hard enough, athletes worry about becoming lost in the wilderness, being bitten by a rattlesnake or attacked by a mountain lion, suffering accidents due to sleep deprivation at night, or succumbing to any number of medical conditions that can cause an untimely end to their race.

So … you get the idea. There’s danger everywhere.

It’s all pretty intimidating stuff to novice ultrarunners — not to mention, a good number of veteran ones. Sometimes it seems like you need to be some kind of superhero just to attempt such an adventure. Either that, or you have to be delusional.

If you’re a superhero, you need a dedicated partner. If you’re a delusional nobleman, you need an agreeable squire. Either way, I knew that if I was going to take on this Western States quest, my preparation would include not just training, but also recruiting a faithful sidekick: a Sancho Panza to my Quixote; Robin to my Batman; Chewie to my Han Solo; Tennille to my Captain.

At ultramarathons, sidekicks are officially referred to as “pacers”, and play a significant role in helping a runner successfully finish the race. They do not travel the entire distance with the runner, but join in the fun during the later stages of the race. At Western States, pacers are allowed beginning at mile 62, and will typically cover the final 38 miles with their designated runner.

Those miles correspond to the time that darkness envelopes the course, and when the runner’s fatigue level can potentially lead to a catastrophic error in judgment.

Finding a suitable sidekick is a much harder task than it first appears. The person has to be a pretty solid runner — because although he’s only doing a portion of the 100-mile race, that portion (38 miles) is still pretty darn long. He has to be selfless, attentive, and considerate — and, as mentioned earlier, perhaps a little bit crazy.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to look very far to score an ideal sidekick. In fact, I didn’t even have to look at all — the right person simply volunteered.

Richard is a fellow Carmel Valley resident who runs with me on a regular basis, and is one of a group of local runners who did a 50-mile race together last fall. He and I applied for the Western States lottery. After I got in and he didn’t, he offered his services as my pacer.

It seemed like a good fit: he was someone I already know and — even more important — get along with. His volunteer gesture demonstrated a willingness to put aside his own interests on my behalf. So I gladly accepted his offer.

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