http://www.baa.org/news-and-press/news-listing/2011/february/boston-athletic-association-announces-new-registration-process.aspx

Fans of the National Lampoon Vacation films will recognize this homage to the scene from European Vacation when the Griswolds get stuck in a roundabout in London and can’t move to the left to get out.  They keep passing the same scenery over and over for hours.  This is what I expected from my first foray into a fixed time race.  However, it wasn’t as bad as I expected.
Back on Sunday November 14^th, I participated in the Rhode Island 6 Hour Ultramarathon and Relay in Warwick, RI.  Being busy at work and going on vacation around Thanksgiving, I never finished my race report.  So I waited for a slow time on the Bimbler website and resurrected by uncompleted report.  So here it is.

For those not familiar with this type of race, it is a fixed time race over a set course.  In this instance, it was for 6 hours over a 2.7 mile certified, paved, rolling course in the Warwick City Park.  The object is to do as many loops as possible within the time limit.  With timing mats at the Start/Finish, 50K mark and 26.2 mark, there were three place they would take partial loops up until you did a 50K.  After 50K, only complete loops counted. It was so long ago when I signed up for this race, that I don’t remember what my reasoning was to do this.  I’m sure it was, first, that it was something I hadn’t ever done before.  Secondly, it was so far out of the box of what kind of runner I am, that it would be a unique challenge.  Those who know me know I dislike loop courses, and most of all, I am not a road runner.  They beat up my feet, and I am not particularly speedy on them. I was apprehensive about the course being in a city park.  I was picturing running out in the open through softball fields and picnickers.  Surprisingly, the park is very expansive and heavily forested.  It is also a peninsula, surrounded by ocean water on three sides.  The Start/Finish is located at the parking lot for the beach at the tip of the peninsula and is surrounded by woods.  The course was run on a paved track that circumnavigated the park along the coastline.  The track was about 6 feet wide and had a dividing line down the middle which kept traffic control over the bikers and walkers.  Bikers to the right.  Walkers to the left.  Other than being paved, you felt like you were on a trail running along the coast in the woods.  Of the 2.7 mile loop, only about a quarter mile was along playing fields or along a road.  The relaxation of running in the woods along the coast, I believe, relieved the tedium of running the same loop over and over again.  It actually wasn’t that bad.  The unvarying surface of the paved loop is what I found difficult.  The constant use of the same muscles on the road is very different than the varying terrain on the trails. The race was put on by the Tuesday Night Turtles.  A local running club.  The support was great with one well stocked aid station at the Start/Finish line.  It was chip timed, but they also had a big board at the Start /Finish line that they kept track of your laps.  This was very helpful, because sometimes when you mind wanders, you forget what lap you are on and then try to convince yourself different.  The volunteers were great also.  There were more than enough and at the couple of points were the loop crossed a road, they had volunteers stationed to stop traffic, so you didn’t have to break stride. I wasn’t sure what to expect as far as runners, and it was an eclectic mix.  When I first arrived, I saw tons of Boston Marathon garb on people.  The most I have seen other than in Boston on Boston Marathon weekend.  I felt a little out of place at that time and I was pretty sure I would definitely be in the back of the pack.  Well, racing is individual right???  However, as more cars arrived, some familiar faces from the trails arrived and others that looked like regular runners, not road elites.  There were even faces from the Bluff that I recognized.  Also in the mix were 22 relay teams of up to 6 runners, which most of them had.  They set up canopies with chairs and tables and brought out all kinds of food and libations.  It really lent a party atmosphere to the whole affair. It really is a battle of one.  Other than by looking at the runner board, you could not tell who was leading.  People passed you a few times or you passed them, but you didn’t know if they were individuals or in a relay.  Since there are so few marathons in Rhode Island, there were a few 50 Staters there also.  These are individuals who try to do a marathon in each of the 50 states.  One older gentleman had a shirt on that said he had done the 50 states 5 times and was on his 6^th time.  Amazing right, well the other gentleman I met was named Larry.  Larry was a senior gentleman and he wasn’t moving too fast, but he was always moving when I saw him.  He had a shirt on that said he had done the 50 states, SIX times.  Yes, SIX.  I said hello to him, expressed my awe at his accomplishments, and wished him well.  He picked up his head, nodded, thanked me, and reburied his head in determination.
Curious about Larry’s story, I looked up his name in the results.  His name is Laurence Macon, age 66, from San Antonio, TX.  He is the Guiness world marathon record holder, completing 106 marathons in 2010.  He broke the previous record of 105 that was set in 2008 by, yes, himself.  He has run over 675 marathons or ultras.  Pretty cool the people you meet.

Surprisingly, I finished in the middle of the pack.  I was 37^th out of 64, completing 12 loops in 5:46:03 for a total distance of 32.4144 miles (This road stuff is real precise).  My 26.2 split was 4:31:15 and my 50K split was 5:29:52.  Not bad for just a fun race.  Another medal, another ultramarathon.  Watch out Larry.

I really enjoyed the event.  Running out of the box was a nice change of pace.  I would recommend to anyone to try a timed event.  It really is much different than a fixed distance event both on road or on trail.

Seven miles into the Mountain Madness 50K at the Ringwood State Park in Ringwood, New Jersey, several runners and I came upon an unmarked, unblazed section of the course.  The course description, which I had printed out, placed in a plastic bag, and now referred to, was no help.  It stated to continue on the fire road to the aid station.  As is often the case with course descriptions written by people who are too familiar with a race course, they see it as an obvious decision on which way to go.  In front of me were three roads/trails to choose from.  They forked out in the general direction we were supposed to go.  Which to choose?  Decisions, Decisions, Decisions.

As the name suggest, there is a lot of climbing and downhill running.  The course has about 10,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, pretty evenly split.  The terrain is very technical with very few runnable areas.  You were constantly picking your way through rocks and roots and when there were old roads, they were either unmaintained so they were no better than the trails, or they had large gravel on them that was very unsteady underfoot.  The trails were reminiscent of the Escarpment or the Spring Loop as far as footing.

The race starts at Shepherd Lake in Ringwood State Park.  With many park buildings, such as a snack window, pavilion and boathouse, check-in is inside. There are two large, real bathrooms in the main building, so there are plenty of seats with no waiting.  The course had changed this year for the first seven or so miles.  Along with the 50K, there were other races.  A 25K and a 7.77 miler that started later in the morning.  The beginning of the 50K ran the 7.77 miler course and was what was called the Mountain Bike Loop.  This section of the course was marked with yellow “CAUTION” tape and the rest of the course was marked in orange surveyors tape.  Keep those colors in mind, because they come into play soon.  As we gathered in the field overlooking picturesque Shepherd Lake the RD gave the usual pre-race briefing about course markers, etc, and with a READY, SET, GO, we were off around the main building, past the boathouse and running down a dirt road to the Mountain Bike Loop.  Here is where the confusion starts.  This section is already marked with orange tape and flags because this is the route where the race finishes.  About a half mile up this road the course comes down a hill and hits this road, which you take to the finish.  Having prior knowledge of the old part of the course, which would come in handy numerous times today, I told the people around me that that was the finish and don’t go that way on our return. We reached the beginning of the Mountain Bike Loop and the first yellow tape.  Through about the first half of the loop things were going fine.  Even though the yellow markers were hard to see because of the leaf color in that area, there were plenty to follow.  All of the sudden they stopped.  I saw some on the ground earlier, presumably from the wind, so I thought that maybe they just blew off.  I mean there were people in front of me and behind me.  Somebody asked if we were still on course.  Then the doubts appeared and we all, about ten of us, came together and discussed the situation.  We agreed to keep heading in the direction we were going and see what we find.  We come to an intersection with a little bike blaze and an arrow pointing the way.  There was still discussion about if it was the correct direction, but seeing that it was still on the loop and I hadn’t been on this section of the loop, made me confident I was headed in the right direction.  So we all continued on for a mile or two more, and then the “Oh Shit” moment.  A lone runner had come over the rise toward us.  We stopped him and he stated that he thought he was the lead runner and that he was following the orange tape.  We told him that we thought he was off course, but he just dismissed us and continued on.  At that point, the “one” thing I knew for sure was that there were no orange markers in the direction he was going. Oh well, we tried to warn him.  We eventually ran back into the dirt road completing the Mountain Bike Loop and made our way past the Start/Finish at Shepherd Lake and now headed toward the old section of the course.  To get there we started climbing a paved road that lead to the public Skeet Shooting Range.  This route was clearly marked until we got just past the entrance to the range and the orange tape was gone.  Straight ahead was what had once been the continuation of the road I was currently on, but was now a dirt road/trail.  Forty five degrees to my right was another route, this one more definitely trail than road, and another more promising road forty five degrees to my left.  Three choices. Great. Our group of ten or so started blossoming with confused runners coming back from all three trails.  Our group had grown to about 60 people.   Most were saying that they had gone some distance down a certain choice or even two and had found no blazes.  There were so many people gathered at this point in the race that I may have been leading my age group.  Hell, I might have been in the lead if I walked ten feet down the trail.  Obviously there was not going to be any consensus on what to do, so I asked somebody who had a map if I could see it.  Looking at the map and having a good idea where the first aid station was due to it being in the same spot as last year, I chose the left trail/road.  If I chose right, there should be a sharp right about an eighth of a mile down.  The turn was there and I grew more confident. There was still pandemonium with people continuing with out taking the right.  Continuing on I came to a familiar area from last year and felt my way to the aid station and thankfully it was there, more or less where I remembered it was.  Okay, now it was the same course from last year and it was on all blazed trails.  What can go wrong?

The next aid station was about six miles distant, and this is where the technical terrain and the climbs started in earnest.  I was starting to feel tired at about 10 -11 miles in.  Not so much muscle tired, but just generally tired.  I had worked five nights in a row at the firehouse and hadn’t slept enough.  I was also sucking wind hard on the climbs.  In my training to get back in shape, I had not been doing any hill work, just using the hills in my long runs to build strength back.  Those long runs weren’t particularly long either, topping out at about 22 miles.  I was going to rely on my level of fitness to get me through this and I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.  I also think that I wasn’t mentally in it at this time.  Usually by now you are in a groove, but the whole ordeal of losing the course and all of the jockeying for position that would normally be done with early hadn’t allowed me to settle into the race yet.  If Stella had got her groove back, damn it, so could I.  Just keep plugging on.

The second aid station was a little less than halfway and leaving that I had my usual race low period.  Hating the world, hating racing etc..  I’ve learned when this happens a GU usual brings me out of it.  Slogging up a hill shortly after the aid station, I opened my Chocolate Outrage GU and forced myself to down it.  I thought it strange that this flavor that I never got sick of in Vermont was really unpalatable today.  It’s odd how things work one day and not another. About a mile or so out of the aid station I heard two men talking a ways off and they were gaining on me.  Eventually they caught me and passed me, but then never got too far ahead. One was a 50ish year old, bandana wearing, gray beard and the other was a younger 30ish year old running with Vibrams.  Merrily talking while racing, they went by the next turn and were off course.  This was my first contact of many with the gray bearded gentleman.  His name was Ron, but I wasn’t aware of that at this time.  I figured it was a fleeting moment and he would soon run ahead, never to be seen again.

My wife might disagree with me, but I believe I am generally a nice guy.  It was a good thing too, because the amount of times that I had to yell to people who went off course was incredible.  Believe me, at some of my lower times I wanted to let them go off to who knows where and in my sadistic mind, wonder where they would end up.  I probably could have moved up at least twenty spots at the finish if I wasn’t such a good guy, but this is all part of the trail running culture.  Helping others.  I really wonder about some of the people getting into these races now a day.  I have noticed in my two races close to NYC, Bear Mountain and this race, that people are not prepared to run these races, and cannot follow a simple trail.  I mean at his part of the race and now all the way to the end, even though it was sparsely tagged, was clearly blazed.  You didn’t even have to have it marked because it was one color blaze to each aid station.

Continuing on to the next aid station, with Ron and Vibrams just ahead of me, we arrived within seconds of each other.  Getting what I needed to get and going, I left the aid station quickly.  Some real technical trail and some steep climbs started this next section.  At the  top of the last climb, I came out onto a bald and was treated to the most beautiful view of the NYC skyline in “relief”.  Cathi, set me straight if I am wrong, but the sun was behind the city and it was just a shadow outline of all of the skyline.  Beautiful.  I had to stop and take in the sight.  After miles of rugged terrain and seemingly in the middle of no where, I come to a vista where I see one of the largest cities in the world.  It is amazing the places that trail running takes you.

Continuing on after a short distance, I start to hear somebody running up behind me.  Yes, it’s Ron.  Not paying attention at the aid station, I had left before him and he had again caught up with me.  He passed me but never got too far ahead that  I couldn’t grasp glimpses of him from time to time.

Now in this section, my feet started to bother me from the constant pounding of the rocks and my legs were getting tired. Leaping over a log, I guess my coordination had also left the building, and I toed the log and went straight to the ground.  Being taken off guard I didn’t have time to put out my hands or even prepare to land.  I landed full force on my right shoulder and upper arm while slamming my head into the ground.  Luckily my head landed in one of the few areas without rocks, but my upper arm wasn’t so lucky landing on a rock.  My momentum carried me onto my back and my legs flew up in the air.  This is when, in my stunned state, I witnessed my calf do its Bill Bixby changing to Lou Ferrigno act.  I saw my calf immediately turn rock solid and clearly define itself.  I thought, “Wow, if my calves always looked like that …..”, then the excruciating pain of leg cramps registered in my shocked head. I was stuck on my back for at least a minute trying to massage out this cramp while writhing in pain on my back.  I certainly hadn’t lived up to my trail name in this instance.  I broke the cramp enough to get up, brush off, and get going with a cramped calf.

I had decided not to take my S-Caps in this race because I wanted to restrict my salt intake.  My blood pressure has been up a little lately and I have figured it wasn’t so hot, so I thought I would get enough salt from foods.  This had happened to me in the HAT Run before I had discovered salt tabs, and again the same results.  The rest of the race my legs were on the verge of cramping solid, and I was afraid to stop.  It got so bad, at the last mile in, my abdominal muscles started to cramp.  Legs and stomach cramping while I was rushing to beat the cut off.  Not good.

Reaching the next aid station, my buddy Ron is there.  Even after that eventful stretch of trail, he had not gotten too far ahead of me. Less than ten miles to go, I am out again and I leave Ron behind.  He again catches up to me in less than a mile.  This time however, he is staying just ahead of me.  He goes off course numerous times and I keep setting him straight.  He admits to me that he has a problem following the trails even though I can tell he is a seasoned trail runner.  In this stretch, I am starting to smell the barn, and even though I am beaten down physically, I am mentally at a high point.  The end is in sight.  Figuratively speaking anyway.  So either Ron is getting tired, or I am feeling stronger, but we stay together to the next aid station.  We stay together in the sense that we are within 100 feet of each other more or less, but not really running together.

I pull into the last manned aid station and there is 6 miles left.  I was happy to see my favorite, late in the race, indulgence still in supply.  Cola.  Pepsi or Coca Cola, I don’t care.  I love the sweetness and the caffeine late in a race.  My treat to myself.  Of course, Ron was there.  Again I was out fast because the finish cut off was looming.  I had an hour and a half to go the six miles.  At today’s pace, it was going to be close.  At this point I didn’t have any attachment to Ron.  I was still running my race, and heck, I didn’t even know his name yet.  If history repeated itself, he would be catching up to me in a little while anyway.

The next aid station was at 3 miles from the last and was unmanned.  Ron had not caught up to me yet and I was actually feeling bad.  I had started to look forward to him catching me, and then me keeping up to him.  Games to occupy the mind.  I was happy to see shortly out of the unmanned station, Ron came up from behind.  We exchanged pleasantries and we took our rightful positions.  Him leading and me trailing.  This section was twisting and turning, and Ron kept going off course, and I kept correcting him.  Finally, I said “I’m getting tired of just yelling at you, what’s your name?”  So, after about 15 miles and hours of time, I finally met Ron.  We had formed a partnership of him setting the pace and me keeping him on course.  A partnership sealed with the exchange of our names.  We were now officially working together. Well, you know what I’m getting at. We were cutting it so close to the cut off time that I knew I had to keep up a faster pace, and he knew he couldn’t afford to go off course.  It was almost laughable how bad his trail following skills were because he had good trail running skills.  It got to the point where he would yell from ahead “Andrew, am I still on course?” and I would usually reply “Yes Ron, you’re good.”.  Maybe a new pair of glasses were all that were needed.

With about 2 miles to go, our new team ran into a young man with a yellow and black shirt.  He was in his late twenties, was walking and was obviously toasted.  He had mentally checked out. I had remembered him from earlier in the race passing me about at mile 10. We slowed to walk with him and make sure he was all right.  Physically he had an IT issue, but nothing otherwise, so we gave him a pep talk about still having plenty of time and we would be happy to have him along if he wanted to.  We trudged on.  Ron setting the pace, me keeping Ron on course, and Yellow Shirt taking up the rear.  He more or less kept up to us, falling back every once and a while.  Even though I couldn’t see him sometimes, but I knew he could hear, I would yell back to him some words of encouragement.  Things such as, “You gonna let two old guys out run you?” and “ Yellow Shirt, its all mental, move your ass.”

We lost Yellow Shirt with about ¾ of a mile to go on the last uphill and a big downhill to the last half mile on the dirt road.  With the trail obvious on the downhill and then hitting the dirt road, Ron’s confidence blossomed and he quickened his pace and took off.  Recognizing the last downhill and glimpsing the lake just before hitting the road I knew I was close to the finish.  I had about ten minutes to go the last half mile.   With every muscle in my legs cramping up and now my abdomen cramping also, I pushed myself to a blazing 9:00 mile pace on my Garmin and knew I would finish under the 8 hour time limit.  I watched Ron finish about 100 yards ahead of me, and then it was my turn to finish.  My finish time was 7:53:42.  Ron had finished 1:14 ahead of me.  Yes, Yellow Shirt did finish within the time limit at 7:55:09.  I congratulated him and he thanked me for my comments that both spurred him on and made him laugh.

Only two more runners finished within the time limit.  The total number of runners finishing within the time limit was 63 out of 103 for a finishing percentage of 61%.  The RD recorded 83 actual finishes with two DQs for missing that Aid Station #6.

The Mountain Madness is a very challenging, hilly 50K that had over 5000 feet of elevation gain and 5000 feet of elevation loss.  It had some of the worst footing in a race I have yet to see.  However, the race organization was great, the aid station fare and volunteers were great, the course was beautiful, and you can’t beat how close it is to us, with the obvious exception of that other great race, the Bimbler’s Bluff 50K.

Ron is on the Left –> ]]> http://mrbimble.com/WordPress/2010/10/decisions-decisions-decisions-mountain-madness-50k/feed/ 4 http://mrbimble.com/WordPress/2010/10/hartford-marathon-2/ http://mrbimble.com/WordPress/2010/10/hartford-marathon-2/#comments Thu, 14 Oct 2010 01:14:59 +0000 Bounce http://mrbimble.com/WordPress/?p=4084

Gretchen is not big on writing race reports, so I will give a short report on my experience at this years Hartford Marathon for her.  Going into the Hartford Marathon, Gretchen had not been happy with her training.  Hot, humid weather made hitting her pace goals tough, and then there was the Fall Marathon stigma.  She had not done as well as she expected in any of her Fall marathons, not terrible, but not what she wanted.  I guess we are the hardest on ourselves. Her head not being totally in it, she decided to run a challenging, but not killer pace.  She decided to try some new race strategys, such as not carrying water, and just try not to “Crash and Burn” in this Fall marathon.  She decided to run with the 3:50 Pace Group and depending how she felt, move up.  She ended up staying with the 3:50 Pacer and finished in 3:48:58.  Good enough to Boston Qualify and just a couple of minutes off her PR.  She said she felt strong at the end and could have pushed harder, but was very happy with her time.  Confidence renewed.

Gretchen said the new course was much better, the race was well organized, and the volunteers were great.  My experience as crew/spectator would mirror that remark.  The finish line area had lots to do, plenty of food, and a Beer Garden that opened at 9 AM.  Yeah!!!!   If anybody needs a crew/spectator next year, call me.

Additional pictures are in the gallery

I stumbled upon this series last year while looking for some races closer to home.  Rick McNulty started this series with a goal in mind. “The goal of the NJ Trail Series is to make running FUN again”.  The best part of it is that most of the events are within a two hour drive from most of us, give or take a little.   It started with a couple of Fat Ass events and some races, to a year round series that has something for everyone.   He has short trail races, an ultra running festival with distances up to 100 miles, and timed events.  Well, the timed event is for the running masochist in us all.  It is a 2 mile loop that starts at the bottom of a ski slope to the top of the mountain and then back down.  It is done in late July and is called Running with the Devil.  Each loop has 960′ of elevation gain and 960′ of elevation loss per loop.  This year’s 12 hour winner did 18 loops for over 17,000 feet of elevation gain and 17,000 feet of elevation loss.

The Ultra Festival is being held in March and has distances of 26.2 miles, 50K, 50 mile, 100K and 100 miles.  The course is a 25 mile T-shaped course on an old rail trail with practically no real hills.  Not my cup of tea, but should prove very fast for people looking to PR or go under 24 hours for a 100 miler.  The race I have signed up for is the Mountain Madness 50K.  It is being held on October 16th and is a short 1 hour and 30 minutes from my house.  It also has a 25k and 7.77 mile option plus a 9:00 AM start time for all you late risers.  I have plenty of room in my car if anybody is interested.

To find out more about the whole series, click here.

To find out more about Mountain Madness 50K, click on the link at NJ Trail Series home page.

Dave Scott, Triathleteave Scott, triathlete

Sorry to Suds and Snobody, but your 6 AM start was not in the cards, plus we were starting at the southern end.  I did see your cars in the Route 9 lot when we dropprd off MRSAJC’s friends car so they could go get breakfast after 12.  I was going to miss my banana and Nutella crepes.  But again after logging 36 miles on the Quinimay in the last couple of weeks, alas I have not seen one horse.  Where are they training for their Vermont races????  I saw plenty of evidence in the form of hoof prints and horse poo, but no horses or riders.  I actually believe I got close when I heard people talking close ahead, and could see fresh hoof prints, well I’m not sure how fresh the hoof prints were, but the poo was fresh.  My nose could tell that.  Sadie and I even smelled horses on the breeze, and she was acting like something was ahead, but we never caught up.  Anyway, it was a beautiful day for a run and I was thinking of you all.  I was also empathetic for the crepes.

Maps of the Quinimay Trail: http://www.lcrvhc.org/mapproject.htm

A quick check of the weather radar showed yellows and reds heading toward Bear Mountain, and the threatened rain looked like it would be there for the start.

So with 3 ½ hours of sleep, I hit the road to Bear Mountain.  I am thinking to myself, who will be on the highway at this time of the morning.  Boy was I wrong. As I met the lane closures in West Haven for construction, three New Haven police cars screamed by on their way into the city to some unseen problem.  More lane reductions due to construction, no less than three motor vehicle accidents, one looked pretty serious and was on the other side of the highway and had closed all of the lanes, and numerous cars pulled over for the police made the trip more eventful than I wanted.  Pulling into the Anthony Wayne Parking Lot, the parking lot where the shuttle would take us to the Start/Finish line at the main entrance to Bear Mountain State Park, at about 3:45, I had made good time despite the eventful trip there.  I have to admit, I did press a little heavier on the gas pedal than I wanted at certain times, but I didn’t want to be late for the shuttle. Pulling off the exit I noticed it had been lit, along with the parking lot, with portable light trailers.  Wow, maybe details had been thought out and expense was put behind safety.  Not knowing what to expect from a big name running a trail event, we were off to a good start.  As we got off the exit directly into this large parking area, we were ushered to the far end of the parking area, I am sure on the premise to allow more cars to come in for the later races, which had more runners in them. The cars were parked about 300 yards from where the shuttle bus was.  In the predawn darkness, I thought, wow, this is going to suck when I come back.  A few people bucked the direction of the volunteers and parked right next to the shuttle bus station.  Wimps, we were supposed to be tough 50 milers.  Walking to the shuttle just confirmed the distance was quite far and would be on my mind on the return shuttle trip.  Well, I’ll give kudos to North Face for the lights but they should park the runners with the longest distance to run a little closer to the shuttle stop. At least the expected rain hadn’t started yet.

I knew that the North Face Bear Mountain 50 miler was a big name race and was close to NYC, so I figured it was going to attract people who are not your regular “trail/ultra” runners.  On the shuttle ride to the start, I overheard a conversation behind me, and one older gentleman was telling another man how he was from NYC and had trained for this 50 miler on a 6 mile loop in Central Park.  I don’t know if he finished, but I am sure it was a long day for him.  Arriving at the main entrance to Bear Mountain State Park we walked across an open field to a well lit tent city for registration.  The tents were set up in a rectangle with the Start/Finish Line on one end, Expo tents on each side and the food and registration tents at the other end of the rectangle. All the expo tents were deserted at this time of the morning, but looked to be promising for a little browsing and free stuff upon my return.  In the center of the tent city were three blazing fire pits and enough picnic tables for all to use.  Registration went painless with plenty of volunteers to help.  The race bib was unique.  It was a multifunction paperwork tool.  In addition to the bib with your race number were three other tabs on the bottom.  One was your meal ticket, one was an entry to a drawing, and the last was your emergency information.  You could feel that the perforations were not too strong, so I took the meal ticket and stuck that in my bag.  Didn’t want to miss out on a meal after the race due to a technicality.  I guess the race bib, sweat and dirt was not enough to show you had paid your entry fee.  I didn’t know what to expect, so that went into a safe pocket.  I inquired about the drawing and was told that would be held after the race.  I don’t know how smart that was because people would be finishing over a 6-7 hour period.  I can’t see the elites waiting around for a drawing.  Hell, they probably get a lot of stuff for free anyway.  Well I guess finishing near the end of the time limit means I won’t have to wait long for the drawing.  I guess that’s an advantage.  So I tucked that little ticket into bag with my meal ticket.  I left the last tag on my bib, not knowing if they were expecting to rip it off at the finish.  I was hoping not to need the information on it.  We’ll see how long it stays on.

About 10 minutes before the start, I finalized my clothing and equipment and checked my bag at the secure bag check.  Another nice feature of the race.  Waiting in the rectangle’s courtyard ready for the start, I noticed many of our sports elite.  Geoff Roes, Ultrarunning Magazine’s Ultrarunner of the year was here.  He had traveled all the way from Juneau, Alaska.  Did you know that Juneau is the only state capitol that can’t be reached by road?  Just some useless knowledge I thought was interesting.  Nikki Kimball from Bozeman, Montana was also in attendance.  Local elites included Glen Redpath, Jack Pilla, Ben Nephew, Leigh Schmidt, and the winner of last year’s Bimbler’s Bluff Brian Rusiecki.

At 4:55 an announcement was made that the start would be delayed until 5:15 due to late arrivals.  This didn’t sit well with many and the warm space around the fire became a premium.  I claimed my spot quickly due to having my race attire of a short sleeve shirt and shorts on in the 40ish temperature in expectation of the start.  Others chose comfort before the race with coats on, winter beanies and pants. One guy had made a sleeveless vest out of a garbage bag which was not going to breathe well, keep him dry in the rain, or be disposed of easily because it was on under his hydration pack.  The scary thing was that these people were intending on running in these clothes.  I was getting hot just looking at them.  As the start approached, so did the sunrise and with the ever increasing light you could see the hills surrounding the start and the ominous black clouds, which, luckily had not opened up yet.

Just before the start we received a pep talk from Dean Karnazes and one of the things he asked was for a show of hands for people who were doing their first 50 miler.  Only a few hands went up.  The clues showed me differently, but I believe the bravado kept people from admitting this was their first time at a 50 miler.  Evidence would be all too plentiful in the next 50 miles.  So at 5:15 we were off.  By this time it was almost light enough to see without headlamps.  We headed off down a sidewalk past playing fields and playgrounds and entered the woods on double track that soon turned to fire roads.  Since there were going to be numerous races run across a  lot of the same trails, each race had its own race ribbon color to follow. The 50 milers were to follow Orange.  There were four races on Saturday and then three more on Sunday.  So their solution was to put “bouquets” of ribbons up to mark the trail.  All seven different colors were on the same branch.  It made it difficult to see your color sometimes, but since I was in the lead for only a short time, I just mostly followed the pack.  The ribbons thinned out as the distances lengthened.  After the first mile or so I turned off my headlamp and packed it away.  We were supposed to have it on until 6:15, but by 5:30 it was plenty light to see.  On this section were signs that showed where certain homesteads once stood.  The signs reminding us that people once lived, farmed and hunted in the areas we now use for trail running.  Places we might classify now as wild, but were once somebody’s backyard.  The terrain was very similar to the terrain that we normally run on, such as in the Supply Pond or Westwoods.  Feeling good from my taper and being comfortable with the terrain, I was moving at a good pace and had to keep reminding myself to keep in control.  During this section to the first aid station, which was generally constantly trending uphill, the clothes started coming off.  People were obviously overheated and were removing , and sometimes discarding items of clothing.  With the price of running clothes, especially jackets, this could be an expensive lesson.  It would also be a long way to carry anything extra since the first drop bag Aid Station was at Mile 20.7.  Along this section, I also started to see the Meal tickets and Drawing tickets from the bib on the ground.  Every step I took my odds at winning something at the drawing were increasing. Yeah!!  I also figured with the Meal tickets lost, there would be plenty of food at the end when I got there.  Nah, they couldn’t be that much of hard asses not to let people eat.  Could they?  Well I know my ticket was safe and dry at the Finish.

Passing through the first two aid station, I adhered to the ultra principles, Eat Early, Eat Often and Drink Early, Drink Often.  I had actually set my watch to remind me every 20 minutes to drink.  It has a Hydration Alarm and it goes off at the time you set and automatically starts over again.  It actually worked great since I had my hydration pack on and I usually don’t drink enough when I use that.  The aid stations had the normal array of goodies, but I basically stayed with potatoes and pretzels because most everything else had sugars in them and I didn’t want to bonk from eating them.  I would save my sugars for the last 10 miles.  This way I also had something to look forward to. They did have free GUs and I took advantage of that.

After the 2^nd Aid Station at Mile 8.6, I realize I have been maintaining about 12 minute miles.  So I am about to break one of the cardinals rules of ultrarunning.  Getting ahead of yourself.  I’m feeling good at this pace, the course, while not easy, is stuff we run on all the time.  I start thinking about the finish.  Well at this pace I can maybe go a sub12 hour, or even match my time at Stone Cat of 11:35.  Hell that was even with a sprained ankle.  Remind you this is about 10 miles into a 50 mile race. As the daydreams of crossing the finish line earlier than expected and getting home before dark were still dancing around in my head, the trail turned much more technical and the climbs got bigger and longer.  My pace slowed a “little”. Reality check. Mental slip.  Lesson learned.

One thing that I started noticing after the first aid station was that I was seeing a lot of GU packets on the trail along with the bib tags.  Actually the bib tags starting getting scarcer and most often wouldn’t stay on until the second aid station.  The GU packets were so numerous that I don’t believe I went more than 100 yards without seeing one, and most of the time they were more numerous.  This was my biggest realization that these were not your typical trail runners where during races you may see a stray GU tab or packet that inadvertently slipped out of a pocket.  These runners were purposely throwing this garbage on the trails and sullying this pristine place.  These runners were used to throwing garbage on the streets of New York without conscience.  These people didn’t live by the tenet of leaving the trail a little better than you found.  They were leaving it a lot worse. It showed me what I had suspected about some of the people who were running this race.  They didn’t get the whole trail running thing and probably never would. I was getting angry and needed to put that out of head.  I never witnessed anybody actually discarding a packet, or they might still be looking for that person at Bear Mountain, but I just followed the second set of course markers along the Trail of GU.

After about 4 tough miles I came in to Aid Station #3.  This was the separation point for the 50 mile and 50K races.  At this station was a timing mat and after the confirming beep I went on in the comfort that all who were watching would know where I was and that I was safe.  Walking away from this aid station with my bag of potatoes, I was approached by a guy in his 30’s who asked me what time I was planning on finishing.  I told him my recently “readjusted” time of about 12-13 hours.  He said he was planning on doing it in 9 ½ -10 hours because he had done a 50k in 4 hours and 30 minutes.  I just looked at him and said “Well you’re a little behind for that time if you are back here with me and you better get going”  With that he was off and I had that knowing smile on my face. I ended up going back and forth with him throughout the race and ended up finishing 12 seconds in front of him.  He had been optimistic of his finishing time, but I had also made that mistake earlier in the race.

I don’t know why but, I seem to always have a low time between 13 -16 miles into a race.  I thought I had it beat this time, but a couple miles out of the aid station while keeping pace with three young guys, I started hating the world.  I started my inner dialogue,  “Why do I put myself through this discomfort?”  “I am never doing a 50 miler again, maybe I’ll still do 50Ks, but that’s long also. Forget about a 100 miler. That’s just crazy.  I can’t believe Brian convinced me to sign up for one.”  With that settled in my mind, I needed to get off that and just concentrate on getting to the next aid station.  This section was a scenic section.  Up until now, it was a nice run through forest, but there were no wide open vistas.  After a long climb I found myself at the Bald Rocks section.  This is a large wide open section that was pretty much empty of vegetation.  The views were beautiful, and I stopped for a second to take them in and to lift my spirits.  This is what I love about trail running.  Bringing yourself to such beautiful places you wouldn’t otherwise go to.  I was shocked, almost literally, out of my happy place by the crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder.  In this wide open, unprotected space, the sky had finally decided to open up.  The rain came pouring down and lightning was all around me as I ran to get myself out of the open.  The few minutes to get off the mountain seemed like forever, but it also gave me a feeling of being alive.  Living on the edge with danger all around.  On my way off the mountain, I had a surreal moment.  In the middle of all this rock and barrenness was a flowering tree.  It had these beautiful purplish flowers and was standing alone, seemingly growing right from the rock, and seemed to glow in the gloomy, pouring rain.  I couldn’t help to think that it looked like something from a fantasy movie.  The Tree of Enlightenment or something like that.  Okay, give me a break.  Your mind needs some kind of stimuli after so many hours on the trail.  It gave me a chuckle and my mood was lightened.  The rain continued until I reached the next aid station.

Aid Station 4 would be the first hard cutoff for the race and I was going to beat it, but by less than I wanted to.  Reaching Aid Station 4, I beat the cut off by about 45 -50 minutes.  I was at mile 20.7 and knew that I was cutting it close, but it was actually where I had predicted myself to be at this time.  One hurdle passed. Next cut off was at 34.2 miles.

Nothing raises your spirits like an aid station.  With the rain still pouring down and a chill in the air, this aid station actually had soup on.  As I ducked under the aid station’s canopy a man about my age was having a cup of soup.  I was tempted, but I filled my pack with water, gathered my pretzels and potatoes and opted out of soup this time.  As I was resupplying, a runner was being attended to by medical staff.  He had his shoe off and he was wincing in pain.  He had broken his third toe.  In my head I thought “His race is over.” Exiting the aid station buoyed by the confidence of making the cut off I took off with renewed vigor up the trail.  For the first time in 21 miles I was finally running like I like to run in races.  Alone.  I enjoy the solitude, and there is no pressure to keep up or be pushed from the back.  Its me, the course and the clock.  I figure I would be alone for the next 7 miles to the aid station.  Of course, that was stupid thinking.  After about a mile, Soup Man comes up on me quickly and passes me.  I foolishly try to keep pace with him and cannot.  Discipline. Discipline. I need to run my own pace and not get caught up in others are doing, or get upset people are passing me.  Again, I was channeling Sybil and feeling low.  About halfway to the next aid station I see a runner heading “toward” me.  As he gets closer to me I see that he has the 50 mile bib on.  Okay, I am pretty sure I am going the right way.  We meet and he asks me in a heavy, I believe Eastern European, accent which way is the 27.7 mile aid station.  I told him it was in the direction I was heading and he was actually going backwards on the course.  He just looked both ways, gave me a weird look and proceeded to head in the wrong direction.  I know that it is completely wrong to take happiness in others misfortune, but hell, it was only a race and he was heading in the wrong direction.  I said to myself.  No matter how I am feeling I am better off than that guy.  So I continued in the “correct” direction with a smile on my face.  Approaching Aid Station 5, I was headed downhill through a grove of Mountain Laurel bushes. It made me flash back to the last few miles of the Promise Land where a similar trail heads down to the last aid station before the finish.  It was one of many comparisons I was making while running to keep my mind occupied.  There were a lot of sections like the Mohawk Loop, more than I liked, like Escarpment, Nipmuck, Cockaponsett, Westwoods, etc.  As I descended to the aid station, I came upon Soup Man in obvious discomfort, looking like his quads were hurting.  It was a small personal victory, and reaffirmed staying in your game plan.  Soup man was left behind at Aid Station 5 never to be seen again.

I was now on my way to the second hard cut off at Aid Station #6.  The weather had cleared and now the sun was beating down and it was getting warm. The wind had also started to pick up and I knew by the time I finished it would be gusting at about 45 MPH.  I was feeling good.  Actually the best I ever felt in an ultra.  I had confidence in my physical condition and training.  I just kept going forward.  There was lot of back and forth with people in this section. Some I hadn’t seen before, some I hadn’t seen in miles.  I came into Aid Station #6 at 34.2 miles to go with a 45 minute buffer.  I had made the cut offs and now I knew I would at least finish the 50 miles.  But, would I finish it within the time limit?  There was still over 15 miles of unknown terrain to go and not a real big time buffer.  So I headed out of the aid station confident I would have another 50 miler under my belt.  Confidence equals good mood.

Again I found myself running amongst people and jockeying back and forth.  I kept getting passed on each section after an aid station by this young guy in his twenties with an Ironman Triathlon tattoo on his calf.  I never passed him on the course, but he must have lingered at the aid stations and I went by him there.  As I progressed on this section, the wind kept building.  The 50K course now joined in and some of the other courses also, because the bouquets of ribbons were back.  I heard a runner approaching me and I stepped aside to let him pass, and do you know who it was?  Broken Toe.  Yes, he had actually continued the race and passed me.  That was one tough son of a bitch and I told him so.  I actually felt good when he passed me.  Man, what big co hones.

The wind continued to build and now there were branches and such coming down.  I heard lots of stuff to either side of me, and there were numerous blow downs across the trail.  I could tell they were fresh, like just minutes ago.  I was really getting nervous that I might get hit by something falling.  Finally a good size branch did fall about 8 feet to my right.  I was happy when the wind slowed where I was.  I think I had gone around a mountain or something that was cutting the wind.  It never came into play again, but I never was so nervous about getting hit by a piece of tree before.

The next aid station was at the Anthony Wayne Parking Area where we had left our cars to catch the shuttle bus all those hours ago.  It was mile 40.3.  Less than 10 to go.  Making good time.  Keep moving.  Up until now, the aid stations were stocked well.  This was not true for the last three.  They had been ravaged by three other races and half of the 50 mile racers.  Just when you needed to have a variety for food and drink, the pickings were slim. The people who had run the longest were getting the least attention. There is no excuse for that.  As a race director, you should overbuy so that each runner doesn’t get shortchanged.  Most smaller, lower budget races do much better in that respect.  They at least had some Coke which is my personal reward for the last few aid stations and I stayed with the pretzels which had worked well so far.

Leaving Anthony Wayne, there were three more sections and two aid stations to go. There was some good running out of the Anthony Wayne Aid Station for a couple of miles until you reached Pines Mountain which was a long technical ascent and then technical descent.  I felt this was eating my time up and I was getting nervous again.  Here is where you started seeing people who pushed too hard early falling apart.  I met IronMan on the way down Pines Mountain.  He had just gone down the long descent on his butt.  His quads were fried.  He was really down and worried about finishing.  There were about 7-8 miles to go and he thought he could only walk and not finish.  I told him if he did 20 minute miles he would still finish in the time limit and tried to encourage him that he could do that.  I left him in the hope that he would finish.  I don’t know if he did, but I hope he did.  He seemed like a nice kid.

Coming into Aid Station #8 at 44.7 miles, there was another timing mat.  I was kind of ticked they didn’t have one more in the middle of the race.  I was totally unaware that they didn’t work and was happy again to let people know where I was and was safe.  Checking over the leftovers, I saw nothing appealing, and asked for a Coke.  Of course they were out of it.  Figures.  The only thing I really want.  Good thing I had hoarded GUs from the previous aid stations. They were getting kind of nonappealing also. I forced one down and put the wrapper in a zipped pocket for later disposal. Well, only 2.5 miles to the next aid station. But Timp Pass was in the way and I needed the energy.

This section proved difficult, especially at this point in the race, with several hard, technical climbs and then the final long hard climb over Timp Pass.  After the climb, was a very rocky, very technical descent to aid station #9 at 47.2 miles.  I was alone reaching this aid station after passing many people suffering up and over Timp Pass.  I quickly downed two cups of Coke and headed in the last 2.8 miles.  At this point, I knew I would make it within the time limit, now I wanted to preserve my spot and finish strong.  Its amazing the energy you have when you know the end is near.  I was running hard and checking back periodically. I was trying to stay to the sides and get around corner so as not to give somebody behind me the extra energy of seeing me ahead of them.  I reached the out and back section of the course that lead to the finish and knew nobody was going to catch me now.  I finished at a good run in 13:22:06.  My buffer had shrunk to 38 minutes, but it was fairly consistent over the 50 miles and I was happy with my overall pace.

Happy to finish I was ready to eat.  On my way over to the bag pickup I noticed most of the vendors were already packing up and getting ready for the next day of races.  The whole place had an air of wanting to go home and go to bed after a long day.  I grabbed my bag and went over to the food tent where I was greeted by empty trays or trays with obviously old remnants of food in them.  I felt short changed.  I know it was a long day for these people too, but you made a commitment to have this 50 mile race and now you just want to get them out of here and go home. I am sure the finish festival was fun with the other races going on, but now it was a ghost town.  I decided to not wait for the drawing and head back to my car where I had stashed some food.  I would stop for something on the ride home.  Getting off the shuttle at the now nearly empty parking lot I began the long walk across the parking lot in the cold wind, shivering like I was having an epileptic seizure.  I have trouble regulating my body temperature after a long run or race and my body shivers to make heat.  I drove home into a darkening sky feeling good about my accomplishment.

I felt the North Face Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain was a mixed bag, at least, for the 50 Mile race.  The course markings were good.  The volunteers were great.  The course itself was good, but not as scenic as I thought it would be.  The proximity to home was great.  On the negative side, the 50 miler seemed like the bastard child of the whole event when it was portrayed to be the headliner.  Later aid stations and finish food were terrible.  Website splits didn’t work. Amount of garbage left on the trails was disturbing, while back at the festival they were promoting recycling.  Not your usual trail running crowd.  You know there are always a few at the races, but this one had a lot.

As in childbirth, the pain of the process of running an ultra fogs in your memory over time and you long to do another.  The commitment of doing another 50 came back the next day.  I could grasp that.  Once the pain and the fatigue subside, you relish in your accomplishment and want more.  I was still having trouble in my mind with doubling the distance to 100 miles.  Brian was worried that this tough race might knock me the other way and make me not want to do the Vermont 100.  He was right for a few days.  Then the realization of me being in the best condition in my life so far, made me realize that I could attempt 100 miles.  Next stop, the Vermont 100 miler.

All right, don’t get your panties all in a knot.  I know that most of you woman are faster than me, especially on the road.  Before you start emailing me or calling me, read my report and see why I ran like a girl.

Gretchen and her friend Lori were running the Philadelphia Marathon and I went to support them.
Her other friend Anita was signed up to run and was unable to make it.  I thought to myself that I would take my running stuff and possibly run.  I had just done the Stone Cat 50 Miler two weeks ago and I wasn’t sure how my body would hold up, but the intrigue of running a road marathon in a strange city was there. You see, I have never run a road marathon or the official 26.2 distance. This would be a whole new experience for a trail dog like me.

Anita had asked us to pick up her shirt and other schwag, since she had already paid for it, and running together a couple of days prior she told me to use her number if I wanted. The way was cleared.  We hit the Expo on Saturday and picked up the race packets.  Of course, for the first time I have ever seen, the race bibs had the runner’s names on them.  If I wanted to run with Anita’s number, I would have to be “Anita”.  This opened up a whole new set of circumstances.  Would I be found out to not be a “real” woman?

Okay.  I needed to commit or bow out.  Lets see.  I ran Stone Cat two weeks ago and had only run twice for about four miles in the woods since.  I was sure my endurance was still there.  The race started at 7:00 AM on a Sunday with no pubs or stores open to wile away my time.  No option there. The course would give me tour of the city like no other. A positive.  I had never run a road marathon before, let alone a big city marathon with big crowds.  A whole new experience for me.  Okay, I was going to do it just for fun, no expectations, just to finish and enjoy uncharted territory.  But, could I pull off running as a woman.

Four thirty AM came and we all got ready.  I pinned on my bib still with concerns of security.  Would anybody question me? I mean I had an official bib, but with the name Anita on it.  I was going over scenarios in my head.  It was a typo.  I accidently put my wife’s name on my entry.  It looks like Anita, but was actually a man’s name pronounced differently.  Yeah, that was a good stretch, but I was going through all kinds of variations in my head.  I was banking on that people would be afraid to even question me for fear of offending me.

Linda Kowalski and Mark Gilluhly met us at the apartment and we walked the mile in the pre-dawn darkness to the start.  As we walked the amount of people going our way kept multiplying until we reached the start area where there was an immense mass of people.  Boy, what a crowd.  Our first order of business was to check Gretchen’s bag for retrieval after the race.  She had taken clothes to be comfortable after the race while she waited for “Anita”.  The lack of organization was first encountered here.  There were so many people in this area, with no flow of travel laid out, that nobody moved very quickly.  There were UPS trucks arranged by alphabetical order to receive the gear bags and luckily we were only going to “c”.  We were moving inches at a time.  When we finally got to the truck and dropped the bag, there was only ten minutes to the start.  Upon hearing that announcement, people kind of got locked in their motion and didn’t move.  I just started yelling “Keep moving, don’t stop”.  People might of thought I was somebody, but at least near me they started moving enough so we could get out of the throng and get to the start corrals.  Would they have listened to me if I wasn’t a woman?  Did they know? No time to ponder that, I would have plenty of time for that.

I was still with Gretchen and Linda, but had been separated from Lori.  Gretchen and Linda were in the Green corral and I wished them well and sent them off while I waited for Lori, who was in the same corral as “Anita”.  I looked for Lori until five minutes to the start and then decided to get to my corral.  Lori and I were in the Purple corral.  There was no security as far as getting into the corrals, so I was in.  I was going to run.  The lack of security also allowed for the corral colors to get all mixed up.  There were people in our corral that were supposed to be two corrals back.  There were so many people, I don’t think it really mattered.  The front corrals were being started and we were moving up to the start for our corral.  I hadn’t found Lori and wouldn’t until we went back to the apartment.

We started around 7:15 and headed into the heart of the city.  About a 100 feet from the start, a big guy next to me toed a crack in the road and went down like a ton of bricks.  Okay, not so different than a trail race.  With the throng carrying me I couldn’t turn to help him, but I did see him helped up and not trampled.  I was moving along and enjoying my “walking tour of the city.  I felt pretty comfortable running with such a crowd.  I guess on the trail you are used to dodging obstacles and running in sometimes confined areas, but there was a lot of pushing and tripping going on.  People were too impatient and not used to running in such close proximity to others. Well, they should have stayed in the correct corral, and everybody would have been moving at close to the same speed.  Well, in theory.  Anyway, while sightseeing, I saw a sign that stated that the first Girl Scout cookies were cooked at this location in the Pennsylvania Gas company’s front window. I found that quite interesting and that got me thinking about food with the first “water stop” coming up.  I am used to eating while I am running such a distance, and I was wondering how I was going to fare with only a water or Gatorade race menu.  I, kind of, was already looking for a nosh to eat.  Oh well, keep moving.

Gretch
AKA “Mrs AJC”

To view Time for Timer go to this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3jgo5ea_zc