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My Hellgate race this year was full of more personal ups and downs than the course itself, and considering the elevation changes on the course, that’s saying something (the race could just as easily be called Up and Over because it feels like Dave Horton simply drives you out into the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains and then weaves a trail roughly 65miles long, up and over every mountain between you and the finish line).  Talking to Jerry a while back, I had mentioned to him that I was hoping to improve on our 8^th place finish from last year and hopefully crack the top 5 this year and as the caravan of cars rolled along towards the starting line, this proclamation was weighing heavily on my mind. I felt well trained but as we all toed the line at the trail head, headlamps illuminating a trail that slowly faded into the dark, I felt more than a little out of my league. Horton gave us a quick countdown and at 12:01, we were off. My strategy for the race was to let the lead pack charge off and settle myself into a quick steady pace and attacking the hills with a moderate jog and as the race progressed, try to work my way up the ranks. This method worked well last year so my thought was that if I could just pick up the pace a bit, I would be ok.

Sure enough, from the outset a group of about a dozen runners took off and set a pretty hard pace. Meanwhile, I watched them race off and settled into my own pace and was very pleased that I felt comfortable over the first few miles of the race. I was running the uphills, attacking the downhills (of course) and generally running a strong race. In the process, I managed to pass a few people and as I reached AS2, I was able to see Jay (my crew for the race; he was fantastic, having anything and everything I could need on hand the minute I showed up at an aid station). From my progress so far, I guessed that I had safely made it into the top 10 where I hoped I could stay for a while.

Following AS 2, the trail winds up and down and for several long stretches is covered with a thick blanket of leaves, making the going tough. I kept chugging along and before long, I found myself with another runner who was bombing along the downs and I excitedly thought I’d found the perfect partner. For the next few miles, we charged along, tearing up the trail and leap frogging each other until we left the single track and emerged at the base of a long, loooong uphill dirt road that led to AS 3 at the top of the mountain. As we began the slow climb to the top, I felt much more tired than I should. I had been so hyped on adrenaline that I had gone out far too fast and really beaten my legs up. Reaching the peak, I was greeted by the strings of lights and warm glow of the fire at AS 3 and as I grabbed some cold potatos and swallow a mouthful of Gatorade, Horton offered words of encouragement and pushed me to catch Sean (the runner in front of me). Thanks, I though, but not on these legs right now; I felt really tired and sore and worried that my exuberance in the early stage of the race was going to cost me in the later stages.

The next section of trail was a wide grassy road/trail that traced the perimeter of the mountains and was high enough that there was still an inch or two of old snow up there and as I ran, I began to look at the footprints in the snow. I was shocked to see only 2 or 3 sets of footprints ahead of me (and at least one set was made by someone marking the trail) and at this time I really started to worry because I knew I couldn’t keep up with the front runners and if I was in the top 2 or 3, that was concrete evidence of my over exertion.  Again, AS 4 was located at the top of another mountain and as I jogged into the AS, I was joined by another runner. Jay pounced on me as soon as I arrived and as I was being refueled, I asked him what position I was in and he confirmed that after being passed at the entrance of this AS, I was now in third.

The next 40-ish miles were a real struggle for me. My legs reached a point where the pain could no longer get worse and it was easier to run than walk so I used this to try to keep myself going. I set myself small, manageable goals, like making AS 6 before sun up, so I could focus on them rather than dwell on how far I still had to go before the finish. I made sure to eat plenty at the aid stations and I’ve found that a steady diet of chicken noodle soup, boiled potatos (that were often frozen) and bananas worked well for me and I loaded up on all three when I could. The only problem came when I reached AS 6 just before sun-up only to find that they were out of chicken noodle and had only tomato soup left. Tomato soup? Really? I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less than tomato soup. But once again, Jay lept into action and was handing me a cup of steaming ramen noodles as I jogged back out. I got passed by a runner named Jordan in a notoriously rocky and leafy section a few miles from AS 7, dropping me into 4th. The going gets very hard in here as the trail is littered with boxy, sharp stones which are covered in knee deep leaves, making for a frustrating journey.

My arrival at AS 7 brought with it a surprise when I saw Carrie at Jay’s side as he approached to sort me out. Apparently, Carrie had barely, narrowly, missed the cutoff at AS 4, and as bummed as I was for her, I was happy to have her along to help out (she never stops laughing and smiling; great when you’re struggling to get from AS to AS). I made it to AS 8 but I was really having to work hard to keep my legs moving. Coming out of AS 8, I had only the thought of AS 9 (the final aid station) in my head, but first I had to pound out a few more miles of downhill running (which as most of you know is harder on your legs than uphill running) along some dirt and paved roads before heading back into the woods where the trail ran non-stop (at least it felt like that) over some short but steep hills. By the time I reached AS 9, I was done. Spent. Exhausted. I could feel the finish line within my reach, but to get there I had to go up and over one final hill. 3 miles up, 2 miles down to a dirt road and just over a mile to the finish. As I marched up the hill, Keith Knipling passed me, putting me in 5^th but that motivated me enough to get me running again and we reached the top of the hill and began down the other side. I ignored my screaming legs at this point and focused on holding my top 5 spot as we bombed downhill. My effort paid off when we came across Jordan standing to the side of the trail is some distress. Keith dropped what food he had with him at Jordan’s feet and I wished him luck as we rushed past and with that, I’d made it back into 4^th. With an energy that you only get with the finish line in sight, I churned up those final 3 miles, accompanied by Jay for the final mile and finished in a time of 12:53:50 in 4^th place, achieving both my goals of a top 5, sub 13 hr finish.

Looking back I was very happy with my result, despite going about it the hard way. The weather was fantastic and the night running was enhanced with crystal clear skies allowing glimpses of shooting stars and a fantastic crescent moon. It was cold on the course (a low of around 19) but not as cold as years past and as long as you kept moving you could stay relatively warm. The aid stations were excellently staffed and stocked (with the single exception of the lack of chicken noodle soup) and once again, I had a fantastic time at an extremely well organized race. Jay did a great job crewing for me and was a huge motivating factor, helping me to push myself harder and harder. But, in the end, I was put to shame as Jerry finished his 7^th hellgate, despite battling a nasty cold, and Dan grabbed his 3^rd finish.  Well done and thanks to everyone for making the trip a very enjoyable one.

-And on the Seventh Day, while others rested, the God of Trails, said “nay, there is much still to be done. It is said they man is created in His image, but he shall travel on mine.” And He, creator of stick and stone, judge of all legs, shaper of twist and turn looked down on his work and upon the Earth He saw paths criss-crossing the land, broken by streams, littered with rocks and limbs and nose grinding hills and lo, he thought, man will still travel too easily. And he said “Let there be mud”. And there was mud. It was thick and deep, swallowing up the shoes of travelers. And it was good. And the God of Trails said “let the mud spring forth from the rocks and cover entire stretches of the paths. Let its depth be hidden and its thickness vary. Yet the mud shall extend no further than the boundaries of the paths but if man attempts to circumvent my mud, his legs shall become entangled in vines and his skin shall be pierced by thorns and his feet shall caught by rock and root. And the mud shall endure, in spring and summer and fall and winter; in the heat of the day and the cool of the night; during rainy season and dry.” The God of Trails saw that it was as he commanded and He was pleased.

-As Adam and Eve left the Garden, the God of Trails turned to those of the Bimble and he said “Lo, my children, while you did not eat of the tree, you did hide in the bushes and laugh. Because of your insolence, so shall you be banished. But your punishment shall be to forever remember the bounties of this garden and thus you shall spend all your life searching for a way back. You shall travel the paths of this Earth, hour after hour, mile upon mile on your quest yet your desire shall never be satisfied. Yea, you shall travel many more hours and days and miles in search of new paths but again, you shall fail to quench that eternal thirst.” And so it was that those of the Bimble were set upon the Earth to travel paths near and far in groups large and small in an effort to find again that piece of paradise.

And so it was, on the first day of the eighth month of the year in the common era two thousand nine that two such Bimblers, Taurus and Circle Continuous, journeyed far from home to the State Forest of Mt. Washington (which, ironically contains no mountain of such name) to travel new trails. They had heard many stories from passing travelers about these trails and it was said that great beauty and reward awaited those brave enough to tred on such remote passages. They parked the car in a nondescript gravel parking lot, off a nondescript gravel road and gathered themselves for the journey at hand. They traveled east towards the revered Appalachian Trail. Though the mud was thick and the trail wet, they were undeterred and soon found themselves staring up at the first ascent of the day. Long did they climb, over stone and through bush but atop the summit they were rewarded with splendid views of the surrounding land. It was here that they learned that the point on which they stood was the highest point in the land of Connect-i-cut and they rejoiced. Down the mountain they continued until they reached the fabled Appalachian Trail and they rejoiced. Downhill they continued, over many a felled tree until, at the bottom of the mountain they reached a map charting the trails of the land. As they examined the map it soon became apparent to the pair that they had traveled far off course. Their eyes had not been sharp nor their minds keen and like a cruel temptress, the trail had scorned them. They took some solace in knowing they had seen the highest point in the state, yet as they turned back uphill, they cursed themselves for their naivete and cursed the trail for its trickery. Upon hearing their laments, the God of the Trails punished the pair with waves of insects and much mud. But yea, the pair did not despair. For it was early in their journey and their spirits remained high and they continued on.  After many miles, the travelers did reach the Appalachian Trail and there was much rejoicing. Indeed, they soon found themselves winding through pine and evergreen and along the bank of a rushing river. Such was their excitement that they stopped often simply to take in all they saw. Too soon for the pair, they forged the river Sage and were heading uphill again, north along the ridgeline of the mountains. Though the traverse was hard, the hills steep and the trails thick with mud and water, spirits were high. At many points along the AT, they were blessed with majestic views of the ridgeline as its tree covered slopes dove down into the low lying lands; birds of prey circled overhead while small clouds floated across the azure sky; distant hills and mountains rose from the depths and dove back down below. Taurus and Circle Continuous were happy and praised the trail for its bounty. As the pair continued on, Circle Continuous began to grow weary. “I have traveled 100 miles in the land of Vermont and my legs are tired. Please continue on without me. I shall turn south at the halfway point in our journey and return to the car and await your return.” Though hesitant to leave his companion behind, Taurus acquiesced and continued northward along the ridgeline. Not long after his departure, the water pack carried by Taurus expelled its last drop. Knowing replenishments awaited him at the midway point of their journey, he steeled himself against the building thirst. Up and down the mountains of the ridgeline he ran, crossing brook and stream, through mountain top bush and mountain side forest and soon found himself at the point at which their journey departed the AT. As a parting gift, the AT presented a thrilling descent, winding its way down from the ridgeline to Guilder Pond where he was forced to leave the comfort and security of the dirt trails for those of asphalt.

As Taurus followed the paved trail, he soon came upon a great gathering. As he neared, he saw many cars lining the road and heard music and merriment emanating from a collection of multicolored tents. He saw large numbers of people milling around tables of art and booths of food. His pace slowed and he thought of the thirst and hunger he now felt. How nice would it be if he were to join in the revelry and dine on local produce? The siren song of the fair called to him. He was hot and tired and thirsty and hungry. But he kept moving. “I must not give in to temptation” said Taurus. He continued on and soon the fair had faded, covered by the muffling blanket of the woods. And on he ran, up and up the asphalt trail until he found himself entering the Headquarters of the State Forest of Mt. Washington, the halfway point of their journey and the point at which a bag of supplies had been dropped. He quickly located their supplies and spread out on the picnic table before him a feast fit for the God of Trails himself. Gels of Hammer and Gu. Baggies of pretzels. Powerbars and Cliff Shotblocks. A gallon jug of the finest tap water the land of Connect-i-cut had to offer. Taurus gazed upon the spread and gave thanks to the God of Trails for providing such a magnificent journey. Hunger fed and thirst quenched, he headed out west again, along the trails of the State Forest of Mt. Washington heading towards the South Taconic Trail. Buried deep in the woods, these trails offered few scenic views winding among the lower lying lands towards the Mountain of Alander. Yet the God of Trails did see fit to add difficulty to the Journey of Taurus. “Lo, he must know humility and not move too quickly” said the God of Trails. And the water did flow down the trail, and the mud did thicken and the roots of trees did protrude and the stones did gather. And Taurus was slowed but remained undeterred. The God of Trails saw this and was pleased. Up Mt. Alander he climbed, scrambling over stone and stream until he reached to top and gazed upon the western boundary of the ridgeline. He was happy and gave thanks. Turning south onto the South Taconic from Mt. Alander, he found his journey easing slightly. The trail widened and the roots and rocks gave way to gravel yet the mud and water persisted. On and on he ran, a stranger in these lands yet always feeling at home enveloped in the embrace of nature. Long ago had he given up trying to avoid the mud and puddles. The mountain cold water washed over his feet with each stride and cooled and soothed his aching feet. Following the western ridgeline up and over many hills and mountains, Taurus came to a trail intersection but with no indications as to the identity of the trail, he was forced to make a decision. His destination lay to the east but it was unclear whether this trail was indeed the trail that would lead him back. He had no map of the lands to the south so to continue south in search of the proper trail was dangerous; should he instead take this intersecting trail, it still lay within the boundary of his map. Thus, map in hand he headed eastward on what he hoped was the final leg of the journey. Downhill he dashed through the natural obstacle course many millennia in the making, until at the base of the mountains he found himself turning northward. Sensing a discrepancy in his journey, he consulted his map and soon realized he had departed the South Taconic too early. “Why must thou continue to torment me?” he cried to the God of Trails. This error in navigation had added miles to his journey, miles which he feared may cost him dearly. For Circle Continuous had mentioned that she may start running from the car on the trail in the opposite direction in order to meet him on the trail. He would still be able to return to the proper trail but would join it at a point closer to his destination than the original trail, thus leaving open the possibility that should Circle Continuous decide to run, she may pass the intersection of Taurus’s new trail and continue on oblivious to the alteration made to his journey. With a renewed sense of urgency, Taurus hustled along the trail, oblivious to mud and puddle. He finally reached the correct trail and though he had fought the trails all day, he prayed to the God of Trails that Circle Continuous had not already passed by. Eager to return to the car where food and drink and rest awaited him, Taurus faced his last hurdle: Mount Frissell. Though the climb was nose-grindingly steep, the God of Trails did bestow a dry passage to the top. Once at the summit, Taurus prepared himself for one last push. But before beginning, a conversation with a passing traveler confirmed the proximity of the parking lot and Taurus turned to head down the mountain, but not before the fellow traveler called out with a parting word of caution, “beware, the trail ahead is steep”.  For it seemed that Taurus was not the only one summoning up the last remnants of fortitude. Ahead lay not a trail, but a precipitous descent over sharp and angular stones and boulders. With agility and a lightness of foot that belied the fatigue in his legs Taurus danced and scampered his way to the bottom leaving fellow travelers to wonder what manner of mountain goat had just passed them by. Sensing he was nearing the end of his journey, he let out an echoing cry “ Woo Woo WOOOOOOO” And with that, he burst out of the woods into the afternoon sun, greeted by the smiling face of Circle Continuous. And he was done. 7 hours 33 min. 6 mountains. 3 states. Untold number of miles.

And the God of Trails looked down and was pleased.

Check out the photos and captions here: http://tomslife.shutterfly.com/639

So this past weekend, I journeyed North again to take part in the Pittsfield Death Race. Not your typical race, this involved little to no running while pushing you to your physical and mental limits as you struggle to complete the various physical challenges. The race directors, Joe and Andy, spend the entire year devising the hellish tasks and delight in the pain and anguish emanating from the racers. To give you a taste of how hard Joe and Andy push themselves, Andy recently completed a TRIPLE Ironman (7.2mi swim, 336mi bike, 78.6mi run) and Joe once ran the Vermont 100 on a Sunday, the Badwater 135 3 days later on the Wednesday, then the Lake Placid Ironman 3 days later on the Saturday. To say that these guys are hard is to say it gets a bit chilly in the Arctic during the winter. So when these two put their heads together to devise a race in which they are hoping you drop out, you know “difficult” is just a jumping off point. However, in order to compete, you must bring with you objects listed as mandatory gear. This year, there was: a bicycle, axe, string, chain break tool (bicycle tool), and a compass. The optional gear included: a bucket, saw, a shovel, a multi use tool, and your sense of self preservation (technically that last one wasn’t on the list, but I feel the RD’s were thinking it). I’ve included a link where you’ll find a photographic overview of the race with captions to explain each task. I could write it all here, but to be honest, you really have to see it to believe it, so click here.

Needless to say, I’m a bit tired, bruised and battered after all that (the knees took a particularly hard beating as I fell several times in the river section and had nothing to break my fall) so I will slowly return to the life of the runner and see everyone soon.

-One quick note: I have to give a BIG thank you to Forrest for (naively) lending me his mountain bike for the race. I registered a bit late for the race and was scrambling to get all the required gear together and if it wasn’t for Forrest, I would have been stuck. (yes, I am trying to kiss a little ass here, because I put that bike through hell in ways a bike was never intended to be used. Sorry Forrest. You’re the best)

http://runtrails.blogspot.com/2005/10/product-idea-injinji-nut-tsak.html

So Hellgate has been on my radar for several weeks now and I was pumped at the idea of completing my first 100k. The stories I had heard from other Bimblers (icy weather, treacherous footing, Horton miles, freezing eyeballs) were both daunting and exciting but I loved the idea of adventure and overcoming the challenges. On the other hand, no matter who you are or what races you’ve done, hearing such tales of peril and difficulty is enough to give anyone pause.

After many trail hours and long coffee shop discussions about the race, the day finally came for us to pack our gear, bundle up our courage, leave our doubts and head south for the winter. After a few shenanigans (as you have heard, there was a BRIEF discussion of sleeping arrangements and a mention of a friday morning run), a visit to Cabelas where last minute items were bought and a lot of driving we finally arrived at Camp Bethel, which served as both the pre-race dinner and briefing site and the finish site. We checked in and got our race numbers (which were given based on Horton’s pre-race rankings: Jerry was 5, Dan 24 and I brought up the rear with 79 [BEHIND a couple of girls i might add, but lets not get into that]), grabbed our shwag bags and claimed a table in the dining hall strategically close to the pre-race buffet. The dinner hit the spot nicely and we moved across the compound to the briefing hall where we rested, packed our hydration packs and generally prepped ourselves for the race (taping, bandaiding, lubing, etc). I was fascinated to watch Spuds fill his camelbak with Coke as he explained it was the only drink he found that his stomach would tolerate and realized this is why I love running because where else would you see someone strap 2 liters of a carbonated soft drink onto their back and head off on a jog?

As we all were gearing up, we listened to Horton give his race briefing and learned that the crew would not be able to get to all the aid stations as expected, the drop bags would not be where we first thought they would, the course would probably be marked well, and that the closest Horton could come to gauranteeing us that aid would be available on the course was to recommend that we run in the middle of the pack. Awesome. Glad everything is clear.

Finally, the big hand told us it was time to head off, so along with a few other racers, we piled into the cars and joined the caravan as we snaked our way along the highway and country roads until we reached Hellgate trailhead. The moon shone down on us, beautifully illuminating the landscape like a soft blue street lamp and was occasionally eclipsed by a passing cloud, dimming the light. The temp was surprisingly warm and by that I mean it was in the upper 30’s and we all wondered whether we had overdressed. [insert nervous laughter]. We had not.

After exchanging last minute encouragements, Jerry, Dan and I toed the line and at the sound of the gun, we were off. Sort of. Just as Jerry had advised, there was a mad rush from the start while Jerry and I settled in to a strong but moderate pace. I was immediately excited to be tackling new trail and the adrenaline of the race was pumping through me as we wound through the first few miles. After splashing through a couple of water crossings, the field spread out and as we headed up on of the many hills, we were able to turn off our headlamps and run with just the light from the moon to guide us. It was quiet and peaceful and before I knew it, we were running into the second aid station where Kerry and Jen were waiting. They heaped encouragements on us as we paused to re-fill/re-fuel and we were out just as quick as we came in. From the get go, Jerry and I managed to fall into a similar pace and not wanting to give a second to the other, we each worked to keep the pace. I was able to put a little space between us on a technical downhill section and as the trail shifted uphill, I knew it would only be a matter of time until Jerry would be back and sure enough, at the top of the hill at the next aid station, not 5 seconds behind me, who appears but Mr. Bimble. With a non-chalant “hey, good to see ya” that I later learned concealed a phenomenal effort to power up the hill Bimble refueled and we headed out together again. I managed one more time to gain a little space on a downhill section but once again Mr. B showed his prowess and caught me again at the 4th aid station. As we wound our way through the mountain range, we leaped frogged each other for the lead position and on a couple of occasions, I was forced to hurry my pitstops knowing that there was always the danger that Mr. B would drop the hammer and pull away. But I managed to make up the time and for the rest of the race we were neck and neck, neither willing to yield to the other. As we progressed through the stages, a welcome sight was seeing Guth on the trails as she ran backwards from the next aid station to us and would then accompany us back to the aid station. Always itching for a run, we would see Guth up the trail, beaming from ear to ear and bouncing back and forth like an excited puppy and know that food and drink was near (although as B and I struggled to make solid footfalls and avoid twisting an ankle on an unseen stone, Guth seemed all too pleased to show us how nimbly she could navigate those same trails). As the miles piled up and the hours ticked by, we were treated to a spectacular sunrise over the mountains and used the invigoration to move our way up in the rankings. Keeping a steady pace and minimizing our time at the aid stations (made easier by the fact that most of the drinks were turning into icy slush and the food was not what you would call warm) we found ourselves in 7th and 8th place heading out of the final aid station. My two pre-race goals were to finish under 14 hours and grab a top 10 spot and since I don’t like to look at my watch, I knew that the one goal I had control of was a top 10 finish so Mr. B and I pushed on. The last section is 3 miles up hill and 3 miles down. But the uphill is very, very up. Not knowing how long the hill trail was, I kept searching uphill for the summit but each time I thought we were close, the trail would curl back up. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, B pointed up ahead and said “look, there’s the summit. We turn off onto the trail and from there it’s just 3 miles to the finish”. But as we approached, he took another look and said, “oops. sorry. we’re not quite there yet”. I was just about to thump him with my shoe when we looked up and saw the real peak just 100 yards further up. We crested the hill and from there let gravity do it’s thing and just tried to move our legs to keep up. We cruised to the bottom and were met by Guth. We survived a brief challenge from a runner we had passed earlier and crossed the line exhausted in 13hr33min42sec and tied for 8th place (having been passed on the uphill section by a different runner).

After the race, as we gathered to recover in the lodge, Bimble told me that after a day or so, I would look back on this race and only remember the good things. That’s a load of shit. I remember the hamstring crushing uphill sections; I remember the freezing temperatures and blasting wind at the top of the mountain that managed to freeze my drinking tube on my hyd pack for 2hrs; I remember the stick that caused me to tumble; I remember the river of leaves we had to wade through and I remember the stones hiding under the leaves just waiting to trip you up (I distinctly remember actually getting angry at the rocks at one point for all the stumbling and bruises they caused. Then I got pissed at the leaves for covering up the stones but then I thought, no f the trees for dropping the leaves. That was a tough part of the race). But while I do remember the difficulties, the positive memories jump to mind much quicker and easier than the negatives. The beautiful night sky; the shooting star; the gorgeous winding trails, the sense of adventure, the challenge, the thrill. It was great. I achieved both of my goals, ran some fantastic new trails, and enjoyed some great company along the way. The only question left now is would I do this again?

HELL yes.

I gotta thank Guth and Jen for all their help and sacrifice as well. They were AWESOME; beside providing much needed aid, they gave fantastic moral support.

So I ran my first 50miler yesterday, the Stonecat 50mile in Ipswich, MA, and came away with mixed feelings.

The day started, as they all do, with an alarm going off well before I was ready to get up. After a quick breakfast in the hotel with a couple dozen fellow Stonecat-ers, I was at the check-in site at 5.30am. Got my number, milled around and listened to some music until the RD gave his pre-race speech. He gave us the usual info, what colors to follow, what arrows to look for, what aid would be available and then dropped a gem of a comment and said that they had to adjust the course at the last minute and the total distance would now be a solid 54miles and dropped the term Horton Miles.  Now, I fully expect the given distance of a trail course to be taken with a grain of salt, but I’d rather know the total AFTER I’ve ran it. Not before so that I dwell on it throughout the race. So on that bombshell, it was outside to the starting line.

The weather outside was pretty dreary. The skies were overcast and there was a thin mist/slight drizzle falling but the temp was in the 50s so there was no chance of pre-race hypothermia. I’ll take a little time here to describe the course. The layout was similar to that of the Bluff in that there was a loop section accessed by an out and back stick section, but the Stonecat stick was less than a mile long leaving more than 12 for the loop. The course was a mix of single track and dirt/gravel fire road (I’d say 65/35, but that’s just a guess) and the terrain was very accomodating and runable with the only obstacles arising when the trail crossed old stone walls. The course rolled quite a bit and was only interspersed briefly with a couple of flat sections. The trails wound their way through your basic New England woodland, some awesome pine sections, through marshland, along the banks of a lake and skirted the edge of the plowed fields of a farm. There was even a small water crossing when the trail passed by a marshy area and the water was flowing over the trail into a little runoff stream on the otherside. This part of the trail was a few hundred yards long and along with the flowing water, there was a long stretch of standing water. There was really no way around it but that didn’t stop people from trying. It gave me great pleasure splash straight through it while runners ahead of me gingerly tip-toed around the edge. HA. This is a trail race. Get over it. The course was well marked with orange streamers, flags and arrows of paper plates which made it nearly impossible to lose your way but I didn’t let that stand in my way and succeeded in missing a turn and bringing my record to 3 for 3 in trail races this year (Curly’s, the Bluff, Stonecat). Apart from the start/finish, there were two aid stations at miles 4.5 and 7.8 well stocked and superbly manned. The volunteers were GREAT; friendly, VERY helpful and encouraging. Can’t say enough about these fantastic people.

Back to the starting line, I purposely located myself in the middle of the pack, hoping to avoid my tendancy to outrun myself at the beginning of races and soon settled into moderate pace. I had a couple of goals in mind for the race ranging from ambitious to attainable. First, I wanted to finish under 9hrs, which I thought was well within me to achieve. Second, I hoped to run under 8hr20min, which I thought was a solid goal. Third, my ambitious goal was a sub 8hr finish (thank you Forrest for throwing that one out there) and lastly, I wanted to run the whole course without walking any part of it. In my only two previous ultras, both 50k’s, I had to walk at some point which is for me akin to somebody trying to stay up all night taking a quick nap. It just doesn’t feel right to me and I wanted the satisfaction of running the whole thing. After the “stick” the loop begins with a very  long but moderate hill and I was surprised at the number of people walking up it. This trend continued the whole race with people walking up every incline we came to and while I understand late in the race your legs give out and you are forced to walk, shouldn’t you try to run? Aren’t hills to be expected on a trail race? Anyway, I continued on and focused on maintaining my pace but about halfway through the first lap, my legs started to ache and soreness began creeping in. By the end of the first lap, I knew something wasn’t right. My legs were killing me, aching all over. I shouldn’t be feeling this way until at least halfway through. Energy wise, I was fine and I had no choice but to continue, albeit slightly concerned. I started my second lap at 2hr 6min and I knew my 8hr goal was out of reach but I felt like 8hr20min was still within my reach. Throughout my second lap, my legs got worse so I tried hyperventilating to force oxygen to my legs hoping that would clear any built up acid and I lengthened my stride to try to stretch the legs a bit but this only slowed the progress of the pain. I never felt like my energy was low or that my legs were tired, they simply ached as if i had already run 30miles. My second lap finished at 4hr20(ish) and my third at 6hr30min. There was nothing for the pain now, execpt to focus on breathing and continue to run. The big kick in the sack came as I set off on my 4th and final lap. On painful legs, I faced my final lap determined to finish and with my 8hr20min now seemingly out of reach I focused on getting as close to it as possible. The dreaded thought of not making my 9hr goal now loomed on the horizon and wanted to waste as little time as possible but as I headed out, I overheard two spectators saying they expected the leader any minute now. I thought, that can’t be right. They must mean an hour or so. As I headed across the field along the “stick” I heard loud cheers and encouragements from the trail ahead and around the bend comes the first place runner, steaming along heading towards the finish line. I couldn’t believe it. Here I am, starting my last lap and he’s finishing his. Talk about disheartening.  All of a sudden, it felt like I was all alone at the back of the pack and I really had to dig deep to motivate myself to keep going. The first 3 laps actually passed by quickly. It didn’t feel like I had been on the trail 6.5 hours, despite what my legs said, but that 4th lap was by far the hardest. The trail was marked with milemarkers, which I hate, and it seemed like days would pass between each one. The image of the finish line and the trail that still lay ahead of me weighed heavy on my mind and I fought hard to stay in the present. I played songs in my head to help avoid thinking ahead and focused on reaching the next aid station. Along the way, I would pass other runners and although we would exchange greetings and encouragements, it felt good to pass them. As I left the trail for the final time and headed across the field towards the finish line, I used what energy I had left to sprint (i felt like I was sprinting, to everyone else, I’m sure it looked like a quick jog) and crossed the line in 8hr 40min 9sec. From there, it was all I could do not to collapse in a heap.

In the end, I came away with mixed feelings. I was disappointed a bit with my time and angry that my legs gave up so early in the race, but on the other hand, I was able to overcome the pain, run the entire course without walking, complete the 50+ miles and finish under 9 hrs. Again, I have to say the course was great and very beautiful and the volunteers were PHENOMENAL, so a big thank you goes out to them all.

I was excited at the idea of traveling to chicago and running a race, but the fact that this was an obstacle course over a good distance, 10.5 miles, intrigued both my adventurous and endurance sides. I was also pumped to see my high school buddy Todd since we had been planning this trip for a couple of months.

The day started at 5.30 am in the hotel. Normally, i enjoy staying at hotels because of the breakfast in the morning, so imagine my excitement when i found that there was no complimentary continental breakfast. NO FREE BREAKFAST!!! I was devastated. To add insult to injury, there was a resturant in the hotel that offered a buffet but that didn’t start till 6.30. We left at 6.

Despite the service shenanigans, we headed out to Grant Park on the shore of Lake Michigan partly satisfied by the odd bits of food we had brought with us, namely a couple of oranges, an apple and a couple of power bars from the pre-race shwag. A breakfast of champions it certainly was not. We arrived at the park to find a small village of tents and sponsors and began milling around, checking out the area. We scouted the tents and found one of them offered free post-race Blue Moon beer. If we needed any extra motivation, we found it.

As the start of the race approached, I began my typical warm up, namely jogging a bit and talking. As we “warmed up”, we took note of the people we saw. Since this was sponsored by Men’s Health, there were a lot of “image conscious” guys walking around. The crowd basically broke down along a simple line; on one side there were true athletes, wearing the standard apparell of broken-in running shoes, shorts and some sort of running top. On the other side were the “jocks”; clearly athletic guys who may have played sports in high school or college but who were now more interested in looking good than competing. They were characterized by styled hair, obviously new clothing and an aversion to any activity that may stain or mess up their desired look. We had a good laugh picking out these guys, more than half of whom were wearing the skin tight, form fitting shirts, despite the fact that the temp was in the upper 50’s/lower 60’s. we were so distracted by these individuals that we nearly missed the start of the race. We managed to get to the front of the pack in the starting chute and after a few words from the race organiser and from celebrity chef Rocco deSpirito the race began.

From the start, we ran north to a bike path along the lake and followed that to Navy Pier and the first section of obstacles. My strategy for the race was not to push hard but instead work on pacing myself. I have a difficult time restraining myself and often find myself trying to outrun those around me. Considering my upcoming schedule of events (the Bluff followed two weeks later by Stone Cat 50mile), i realized that being able to properly pace myself would be necessary for a strong finish in each. So I set off at a brisk but comfortable pace, keenly aware that while I was near the front, I was being passed by a large field of runners. I had the feeling that wouldn’t last and sure enough, about a mile into the race, the racers slowly began to drop off, unable to maintain their pace. It was about a mile and a half into the race that I spotted one of the most unique runningn outfits i’ve seen. Picture this: baggy cargo shorts, an undershirt and a long sleeve RipCurl t-shirt. It looked like he’d just rolled out of a frat party and joined what he must have thought was a sprint to the next bar. At least he was wearing running shoes. After a couple of miles, most of the over-eager, over-confident runners had dropped off and we turned on to Navy Pier. The first obstacle we had to maneuver were the road-barrier hurdles and culvert crawl. 4 hurdles, crawl through a culvert, 2 hurdles, another culvert, 2 hurdles. Nothing too difficult, but it’s surprising how much energy your body using when you engage all the muscles of the body at once.

I was able to continue running while my body recovered (thank you trail running for that technique) and ran the next couple of miles to the next obstacle. Outside Soldier Field, home of the Chicago Bears, 4 Dodge Ram pickups (another sponsor) were parked on an incline, two side by side facing the other two, and we had to crawl underneath them to the other side where it was straight under a cargo net set about a foot off the ground for about 20 yards then across a set of monkey bars. If you fell from the monkey bars, you had to run a penalty lap before continuing. I made it safely across. Todd did not. Fortunately, it was only around a cone about 50 yards away and he was back in (in all fairness, the ground we crawled on was very wet from the dew and by the time he crossed the monkey bars, the bars were dripping with the water left behind by other racers making them very slippery). From there, it was along the waterfront to the next obstacle. The view of the lake was beautiful and offered a wonderful distraction from the race. The weather that day couldn’t have been better and in the early morning, the lake was calm and dotted with dozens of sailboats and yachts which made for a very picturesque scene. Soon enough, I reached the third obstacle: marine hurdles in the deep sand of the beach. The hurdles were wooden beams about 5 feet high which you had to climb over. Easy enough except for the sand. For me this was the most difficult as the sand seemed to suck you down as you tried to jump up and over the beam. I grabbed some water as I exited the area and headed back north along the same path we had just run down. At this point I was pumped because I knew it was only about 3 miles to the finish line and the only obstacle left would be the taxi cab hurdle and an 8 foot wall we had to climb over just before the finish. Easy. Except I forgot one tiny obstacle. The stair climb. As we returned to Soldier Field, we were directed inside where the race took a decidedly steep turn. We climbed the stairs to the walkway around the inside of the stadium (where all the concession stands and bathrooms are) which seperated the two tiers of the seating areas. We then followed the arrows of the course inside the stadium to the seating sections where we had to climb the stairs of the upper tier all the way to the top of the stadium and back to the bottom of the upper tier 3 times. My first strategy was to take the stairs two at a time to catch a group of runners ahead of me (my competitive side started worming its way out) but that lasted maybe 5 steps before my legs had had enough. I then switched to a single step routine that allowed me to jog up the steps and in the process pass several runners (thank you Bluff training). I felt good coming out of the stadium and ran confidently to the last obstacles. I could hear the crowd as I neared the finish and as I entered the final stretch inside the park, the onlookers lined the race corridor and were cheering loudly. I was near the front of the pack so I didn’t have to worry about any interference as I attempted my cab hurdle. I couldn’t simply run straight over the cabs; I needed a bit of style and chose the old hood slide. I must say that I pulled off a textbook slide, gliding over the hood and landing nimbly on the other side. No embarrassing fall, much to the crowd’s dismay I’m sure. I lept at the wall, pulled myself over and crossed the line, very pleased with my accomplishment.

My official time for the race was 1 hour 17 min 50 sec. Not too shabby and good for a 26th overall finish (out of about 1200 individual runners). As for my strategy of pacing myself, that went well for the most part. I must admit though, with about 2 miles left, I couldn’t hold back from passing the only girl ahead of me (i apologize for any sexist tones, but I just couldn’t let a girl beat me in an obstacle course race). I ended up passing her on the stair climb and held her off for the remainder of the race.

I waited around for Todd (1hr 24 min, 125th place) and we raided the food tent before heading to the beer tent. We got our fill there before wandering around and checking out the other sponsor tents. We got a free mini basketball and immediately started juggling it (soccer style, with our feet). After annoying several groups of people in our general vicinity with an errant ball, we climbed the climbing wall they had there and watched others attempt the final obstacle. We saw plenty of slides across the hood end in embarassment and sore asses, others simply ran over it (boring). The best part was watching people struggle and squirm to get over the wall and there’s nothing like watching somebody take a running leap at the wall, only slam into it and slide off Wil E. Coyote style.

The race was fantastically organized and well planned. We had a great time and we were very lucky to have a gorgeous day of weather. I definately recommend this race no matter what your athletic level (trust me, I saw the whole spectrum out there). You will clear all the obstacles and you will have an awesome time doing it.