In March 2011, I decided to do a marathon (see post 3/4/11). No, I’m not a runner. This is a marathon of another sort, though probably almost as challenging as running 26+ miles. This marathon, technically, would qualify as an ultra-marathon, if we continue with the running analogy, over 100 miles. This marathon requires an entire night (from sunset to sunrise), clear, dark skies (no moon or city light pollution), and vernal equinox (the only time of year that it works). And what is this marathon of which I speak? The Messier Marathon, aka M2 by astronomers, where you try to view all 110 astronomical Messier objects in one night; the equivalent of running 110 miles; kinda, sorta.
My first attempt at this marathon, in March 2011, resulted in only 26 objects or “miles”. Really not bad for a first time, it was equivalent to a regular running marathon. My downfall was incoming clouds which obscured the skies. The objects must be seen in a certain order and some of them must be viewed at a certain time or they will “fall below the horizon” (technically it’s the earth moving, but that’s details), not to be seen again until the next night; which is the very reason that it is done on vernal equinox. On vernal equinox the earth is situated at a position, in its yearly trip around the sun, so that in the course of one night, all of the constellations can be viewed between sunset and sunrise. It is quite challenging to get those first few M-Objects, some of them so very dim, while still fighting the lingering vestiges of sunset. Likewise, in the morning, a marathoner is challenged with the increasing light of dawn, competing with the light of objects 100’s or 1000’s of light years away.
The second (and possibly final) attempt was in March 2012. It started with a very tentative weather prediction, warmer than usual temperatures, and higher than normal humidity. I prepared, mentally, for weeks before, and physically, the night before. The weather was the first unknown. Will it start clear and cloud up (like March 2011) or will it be partly cloudy and clear up? The temperature was the second unknown. Will it be cold, will it dew, or will it frost? The endurance of the marathoner (me) was the third unknown. Will I be able to stay up all night, will I be able to adjust to temperature and weather, will I get hungry, thirsty, will I be able to find all objects? Some of the M-Objects are very difficult to find under ideal conditions, much less under a time constraint and when you’ve been up ¾ of the night.
On March 23, two days past vernal equinox, under a nearly moonless sky (the sliver moon set very early, and was quite a treat to start the marathon with), I set out to “run” my 110 mile ultra marathon. Starting out, the viewing conditions were rather good, the temperature tolerable, and the setting dark. I’ve been told by many running marathoners, they feel good when they start. Not always the case half way through or at the end. In a field, near Cortland, Nebraska I prepared my gear. My “shoes” were an 8” Onion SkyQuest Newtonian Reflector Telescope on a Dobsonian base, a decent “scope” for this sort of marathon. My guide was Sky & Telescope’s Pocket Sky Atlas by Roger W. Sinnott, and a lovely M2 viewing list from http://messier.seds.org/xtra/marathon/marath1.txt using Don Machholz’s search sequence. I had layers of clothes, to put on if the night got colder. I had water and food to keep hydrated and nourished. I even had 5 hour energy drink. I had a fan club cheering me on, fellow amateur astronomers, who would be out for a few hours with me, looking at their own celestial wonders, whom have attempted the marathon themselves in years past, and knew its toll and challenge. And most importantly, I had a hopeful attitude. Well, at least for a while.
I failed to get my first M-Object, which I had gotten the year before; and then failed getting my second M-Object. As I struggled to find them in the remaining photons of the sun, they creeped lower and lower making them harder and harder to see. I finally let them go and moved on. I got number 3@ 9:09 pm CDT, and from there it got better. I cruised for 32 “miles”. At midnight, on the search sheet, there is a break built into the marathon (a time where you have seen all the current objects and must wait for other constellations to come into view), and even though I had not gotten to that point in my own search, I took a rest. At 1 am on March 24, I began my pace again, and “ran” strong for 6 miles. I failed to snag a few and slowed down at “mile” 39 and 40. And then the dew came. The outside of my scope was nearly dripping with moisture. I carefully and diligently kept the eyepieces and aperture covered, when I wasn’t looking through them, to reduce the chance of dew on the mirror. Dew on the mirror is a pulled hamstring, your marathon is over! Up next was one of the hardest legs of the marathon, the Virgo and Coma Berenices galaxy clusters. Imagine looking into a section of the sky where the galaxies are as numerous as the stars, and they are all tiny, faintly luminous, smudges on the sky. And very few guide stars to boot. I admit that I didn’t find most of these, another marathoner did, and he did an amazing job. I looked at them, and helped guide him, but I didn’t run those 20 or so miles alone. After those challenging miles I was back on my own to finish out the night. I was feeling not only hopeful, but also a bit cocky; a dangerous emotion when there was so much left to do.
At some point in the early morning, an odd thing happened, the air seemed to dry up a bit. I sensed a change in humidity, which I had never experienced, it got less humid. Encouraged by the weather’s cooperation, I resumed with gusto, and snagged 11 more M-Objects in 30 minutes. I was stiff from the physical demands of positioning myself around the telescope and because I had spent 8 hours in the cool night, probably not quite dressed as warm as I should have been. I was tired, having been up for just under 24 hours. The slight pale tinge of light was starting to appear in the east. Stopping for just a moment to catch my breath, I realized I had watched the galaxy, the Milky Way, “rise”, and I was now looking at constellations I normally see in the summer, though usually at a much earlier time. It was humbling to see our magnificent galaxy make its appearance in the spring sky. A galaxy rise! “A morning filled with 400 million suns!” (Thank you, Carl Sagan).
I frantically tried to resume my pace, but honestly, I was losing endurance. The thing about running out of stamina is, it affects your mind, and that was the one thing I needed most, my spacial ability. I managed to log 6 more miles. When my pencil recorded my 77th M-Object at 5:30 am on March 24, I stood up and said to the universe, “I’m done! I can go no further.”
The universe nodded and said, “Hell of an effort human, hell of an effort!”
Total time: 8 hours, 45 minutes; 77 objects; start time 8:45pm 3/23/2012, end time 5:30am 3/24/2012; average pace of 6.8 minutes/object. Hell of an effort, folks, hell of an effort!
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