Alternatively: Me, Madonna, and Hybrid… at the Seneca Creek 50K.

So, WAY back when, IGGY had started the theme of Spring 50Ks, and I expanded her theme by listing an exhaustive compilation of spring races, from Holiday Lake in February, all the way to Pineland Farms at the end of May. Seneca Creek seemed to fit our collective Bimble sensibilities due to the “low key” nature of the race, although several griped at the lack of shirts. I liked the race for a couple other reasons, including the fact that I knew the general area well as it is used to be a frequent mini-vacation spot for the family, and it was also in the general neighborhood of the well liked HAT run and Foxcatcher 50Ks. I planned bringing the family for a long weekend, but my son’s busy professional schedule nixed that plan. Ultimately, other Bimblers realized the timing of the run was not great, being quite early in the spring, and they opted out as well. I was left with the option of going it alone, or bailing out. Having chosen to “bail out” on Promise Land LAST spring, I dug my heels in and committed to doing it.

Leading up to the race, I prepared by doing a SLIGHT taper, which I believe helped. I then packed an absolute minimum of stuff to bring, just to keep things simple. My biggest fear was the boredom of the drive there and back (about 335 miles each way). Fortunately, I had company in the form of Allstate’s dog Madonna, and IGGY’s new dog Hybrid. I didn’t know if they would be allowed on the course, but I KNEW I needed company for the ride.

Just before leaving work Friday, we had a building power outage which I was told would last until at least 10PM. This was my last and best excuse to cancel my trip. But, a coworker who knew how long I had been planning the race insisted I go, and that he would make sure all systems were OK. He wound up staying at the office until the sun came up dealing with the problem.

So, I hit the road at about 3:45. By 9:45 I was checked in to my hotel, with Hybrid and Madonna successfully sneaking into the room. I ate dinner in the room (yes, my Friday night favorite: Red Beans and Rice). Hybrid woke me up Saturday at 5:15 or so, although I had been up on and off dealing with the problems in the office anyway. By 5:45 (8 hours after check-in) I was checked out of the hotel. A short drive, with a stop for coffee had me as near to the finish line as I could park, which was about 1 mile away. In short order, I was picked up by a school bus for the drive “upstream” to the starting line, which took about 1/2 hour. On the ride, I got a sense of how laid-back the whole operation was, as a large manila envelope was passed amongst the runners, with instructions to deposit their forms, along with $10 or $20 as appropriate! Apparently, the honor system has proven to work just fine. I met several very nice road runners on the ride, all of whom I believe are actually trail runners, they just haven’t realized it yet. All spoke highly of the RD Ed Schultze, with whom I had a long string of e-mail correspondence and concur as to what a great guy he seems to be.

We got off the bus just in time for the “early option” start at 7AM. This was due to the “special circumstances”, namely, all the snow on the trail. Unfortunately, I was not doing the “early option”, so I stood around and shivered for an hour. Despite the extremely “frugal” nature of this race, I was pleasantly surprised to see mylar blankets available for us pre-race. Check-in was efficient, the lines for the porta-johns were manageable, and I noticed a LOT of snow all around. I would estimate the temperature at 8AM to be about 30 degrees.

At 8AM sharp, RD Ed said “go”, and that was it. We started along an undulating asphalt bike/walk trail through some sort of very “groomed” municipal park / school grounds. There was black ice where the trail had been shoveled, and about a foot of snow elsewhere. About 10 minutes into the race, we suddenly veared right off the pavement and uphill (what else?) on single track. The snow was hard and VERY irregular, making for firm, grippy, ankle twisting terrain. About 10 minutes later, we wound down to Seneca Creek, which would remain in view, under foot, or above the knee for the remainder of the race. Except for road crossings, bridges, and the final mile, all the rest was single track. At a little past 1/2 hour, the MAJOR water crossing, with rope for assistance presented itself. The water was perhaps knee deep, swift, and cold. It was good to get wet early and not worry the rest of the way.

The snow was never very slippery, but it was often “bumpy”. When crossing fields, power lines, etc… you could run “wide” around the postholes and glide along the top of the snow. The “clydesdales” indicated that strategy did not work for them.

At one hour, I hit the first aid station, advertised at 7 miles. Despite the fact that there were MANY runners ahead of me, I had a bad feeling that my pace was too fast. Over the next section, I consciously paced myself a little better, and resolved to make a lengthy stop at the next aid station. The next aid station was out in the open, with a bright sun and rising temperatures. I took quite a while to eat, drink, and shed my hat, gloves, and jacket. After chatting with the aid station crew, I moved on down the creek.

During this next stretch, I realized how confusing this race was. Following the trail was easy, as it was a single “long distance” hiking trail, blazed blue just like Connecticut. The confusion came from the fact that there were two different race distances starting at two different times, making for 4 combinations. To make matters worse, nobody was sure who was running the marathon or who was running the 50K until aid station 3 at the 15 mile mark. At aid station 3, if you were doing the 50K, you went out around a large lake and back to the aid station (now aid station 4) and then finished the marathon course. I stopped to take a picture, and moved on. After aid station 3/4 there was minimal snow, but worsening mud. There were a few shoe-sucking stretches and there were some good falls witnessed.

With the different distances and starting times, I never spent very long running with anyone. I did run with a marathoner for a while, but I wasn’t sure that was smart. I then, after taking a side trail, caught up with a bunch of 4 other guys who pulled me along pretty good. We had a nice pace line going, then somebody came up from behind and somehow upset everyone’s rhythm, including his own. He sort of reminded me of a bowling ball knocking over bowling pins. I emerged unscathed and alone, and I never saw any of them again. Late in the race, for the last 10 miles or so, the snow all but disappeared, and the trail mostly hugged the banks of the creek. There were 2 long uphills, both of which were reasonable for walking, but I managed to maintain a mild jog on both.

After the last aid station, the Goldfish Aquarium (goldfish were a MAJOR if mysterious theme throughout the race) I eventually caught up to 2 guys moving fast. I had been warned there was a MAJOR hill with 3 miles left, so I hesitated to pass them. The anticipated hill failed to materialize, and I was tempted to speed up. Just then, 2 things happened: an unanticipated aid station, with 2.2 mile to go appeared, and one guy said to the other “here comes the hill”. Oh. This was a Nipmuck stairs kind of climb and nobody was going to run. One of the 2 guys ahead of me let me past because I was walking hard. We crested the hill, and shortly thereafter, the guy ahead of me ran off-course. We called repeatedly, and he turned back, but he was “broken”. Now it was just me and the other guy, pushing hard. The trail has mileage markers every 1/2 mile. My running partner knew the terrain and we both knew the distance. With a mile to go, we came out onto the dirt road where my truck was parked. I was tempted to throw my “extras” in the bed, but didn’t. I pushed him hard, but couldn’t close the last 5 yards or so. The last mile clicked by WELL under 8 minutes on a hard packed level dirt road. Ouch!

After the race, a short walk brought us to the banks of the Potomac, where a barbecue lunch was served. It was a very nice scene, and everyone was enjoying themselves in the relative warmth. After chatting a little more, I had a choice of walking a mile back to the truck, waiting for a bus, or thumbing a ride. I walked.

A quick change in the truck made me feel well enough to drive a while until I could get to the nearest branch of my gym for a hot shower and (truly) clean clothes. I felt MUCH better. Then, I resolved to not get out of the driver’s seat until I got home. The wise counsel of multiple Bimblers who were co-piloting me by cell phone convinced me to stop for food and drink, which I reluctantly agreed to do. One such lengthy conversation caused me to totally lose track of where I was, and resulted in my first ever visit to Philadelphia (oops!). A one hour wait at the George Washington bridge was an annoyance, but I still managed to be home a mere 30 hours after I left.

An excellent race, great people, a beautiful trail. Oh, and what about Madonna and Hybrid? Well, Madonna has accompanied me on long runs before, and proved, once again, to behave perfectly and look good doing it. Hybrid was, sadly, overexcited at the start, jumping all over the place, in and out of various pockets and pouches. He suffered a slight injury in his overly exuberant state and wound up injured, ever so slightly. The medical director generously offered to tend to Hybrid while I raced, so I reluctantly left him in good hands. The word is he will be back on the trail in no time.

Time: 4:36:06 I think. Place: TBD

To view more pictures click here:

Updates: A nice, and totally different, race report here: Run 192 from a nice guy I talked to at the finish. AND, once I found his posting, I found that HE knew where the race results were, which is here: Marathon, then 50K Results

On the drive up to the Colchester Half Marathon this weekend, I realized that I hadn’t run a road race in exactly a year–since last year’s Colchester.   In some respects, it is about as close to being a trail run as a non-trail run can be.  Lots of wildlife (mostly bovine) and several sections on narrow, muddy dirt roads–snow-covered this year–keep you entertained. The Bimbler contingent (minus Bimble, unfortunately) ended up being the same group which had run a Guilford 16 miler the weekend before (which, I should say, was a strikingly similar run:  same lovely rural scenery alternating wooded areas and farmland, same rolling hills with the occasional killer grind).  So we were all well-prepared for the challenges and pleasures of Colchester.

I drove up with Catamount and was glad to be able to find Sport at the registration area (among nearly 400 other intense-looking runners). Guthrie and Scoobie were busy doing appetizer runs, so we didn’t locate them until right before the start (sorry we didn’t find you for the ritual pictures!)  I debated ditching my water belt, since aid stations were available, but out of force of habit decided to keep it at the last minute.

The perfect amount of overnight snow and above-freezing temperatures gave us ideal conditions: mostly clear roads, easy footing, and lush, sparkling snow-covered tree boughs everywhere you looked. I enjoyed chatting with Sport for a few miles and overhearing other runners’ conversations.  One guy teased another for not going barefoot.  Another woman told her friend that, no matter what age you start, you will peak after about 10 years of running (which means I am at least 10 years over the hill!)  At the 6 mile mark, I had a moment of deja vu when I encountered the enthusiastic race director, Rick Konon, on the first killer dirt hill.  He ran around high-fiving all passing runners and again exhorted me to “pump those arms.”  (To my amusement, Catamount later told me he resisted engaging Rick in an on-the-fly debate about running form and efficiency.) The highlight of the race for me came at around the 10.5 mile mark. There was a nice downhill on a narrow, snow-covered dirt lane which for a moment made me feel like I was on a cruiser ski slope whizzing by the slope-side condos. The route crossed a bridge over an icy rushing river, then entered a wooded winter wonderland.  As I started up a small hill, slipping a little on the packed snow surface, the sun burst out from behind the clouds, making the whole snow-drenched landscape sparkle dramatically. At that precise moment (no kidding), my ipod launched into U2’s  “It’s a Beautiful Day.”  I’m sure I had a ridiculous smile on my face as I waved to the volunteers and (yes) a few of the large spectating cows. I let that dazzling moment sustain me as I turned the corner for the last, long uphill stretch. It seemed to go on forever.  I had been experiencing some thigh pain throughout the week (and throughout the race) and it intensified during those last few miles.  I tried to practice accepting the sensations and maintaining my focus. It was an uncomfortable and difficult push, but I was able to maintain my pace and pass a couple of runners before finishing with a time of 1:50:30 (a few minutes faster than last year, so maybe I’m not too far over the hill). Sport, Scoobie, and Catamount arrived in quick succession. (Given how ready I was to be done, I was very impressed that Guthrie and Scoobie headed right back out for dessert runs to complete their designated training mileage.)

After giving one of the massage therapists a crack at my leg, I enjoyed joining the rest of the crew for a tasty vegetarian-friendly spread in the school cafeteria (veggie lasagna and string beans with almonds).  It was truly a beautiful day in Colchester!

Congratulations to everyone on a well-run race.

Nadia

Luckily someone had been out recently enough to follow their tracks since the white blazes of the Appalachian Trail were disguised by the everywhere snow. Forrest led the way as Forrest does with confidence and speed while Kaya and I struggled to keep up.

Without a step off trail we reached the summit of Greylock Mtn. which has an amazing lighthouse on top. Who knew? Well Forrest did and related the story of the lighthouse on the top of a mountain to me. It was very very cool up there. In the “cool” sense and the wind blowing kind of cool sense! We took a picture and quickly moved on as much of our bodies were frozen.

THEN we hit the downhill…. what took us four plus hours to reach took us an hour or less to descend! It was fantastic, the feeling in my hands came back, then the feeling in my feet came back and we were really moving down that mountain. It was a rush. I had actually forgotten I could move that fast if propelled by the descent. It was a successful day.
On a side note, Kaya did amazing for a dog out there. There was one point I thought she might give up, but she pressed on!

Loopy

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.

On the one hand, my report has nothing to do with the race, after all, I didn’t even run it! On the other hand, it has everything to do with the race, since the race was my reason for being there. What a strange and wonderful experience it was. I have run races, I have spectated at races, but crewing is something entirely different from the other two

Ultra has a way of “selling” every race as “an ideal FIRST (fill in the distance of your choice)”. I wondered if the Hellgate 100K might be an ideal first race to crew. He didn’t try to sell me on that at all. Hmmmm… Still, I would have Guthrie to offer advice and guidance, and she is a pro at crewing in general, and at crewing Hellgate specifically. She offered me the advice of “just follow me”. It seems to me someone else, Maybe Mr. Bimble (?) always advises me to “never follow Guthrie”! This was all SO confusing. Chipper offered me some helpful pointers during a recent Westwoods run. I am not sure what she was happier about: the fact that I was going, or the fact that she wasn’t going. Actually, I think I DO know which made her happier! With this minimal information, and low expectations of me from El Toro, I headed off into oblivion aka The Gates of Hell.

We all met at Bimble Hall Thursday evening, and set off from there. Mr. Bimble, Guthrie, and Spuds in the Bimblemobile, El Toro, Loopy and I in the Toromobile. Our paths diverged, partly due to irreconcilable navigational differences, and partly due to nutritional demands. As a result, we wound up at the same pre-arranged spot to stop for the night, but did not meet again until morning. In the morning, we all met for a hardy breakfast, a shopping adventure, and finally headed south to Virginia.

At about 5PM we arrived at Camp Bethel the base of operations for the Hellgate 100K. The lodge and dining buildings were buzzing with racers checking-in, preparing, and greeting friends from past races. At 6:30, dinner was served, and at 8PM, the pre-race briefing by the legendary Race Director, David Horton

After all this official stuff, everyone was supposed to try to get some rest before the 11 PM “race to the race”. Driverless runners were paired up with those vehicles with excess capacity, and at 11 PM, we started a caravan to the starting line, located several interchanges north on I-81. When you need to spend some time on an interstate highway to get to the finish line from the start line, you begin to appreciate how far this race really is. We arrived with a few minutes to spare, spent in the comfort of the warm car. Then, we all made our way to the starting line, with several people getting their feet quite wet before the race even started. The temperature wa sin the mid-twenties as midnight approached. Guthrie and I waited on the sidelines as our four Bimblers bravely and confidently toed the line as the National Anthem was sung. I was so inspired by the scene that I participated, quite loudly and maybe even almost in key, in the singing, and I NEVER sing in public. And then, they were gone. All the crews scrambled for their vehicles, and a chaotic scene ensued as crews fought for position on the narrow gravel mountain roads. I tucked in tight behind Guthrie, and drafted her all the way to Aid Station #2, as the first station was off-limits to crews.

I wound up getting to the next aid station before the aid station got there. I waited a respectful amount of time after they arrived to ask “will there be soup?”. The answer was yes, but it might not be hot until the middle of the pack runners arrived. So, with the temperature hovering at 17 degrees, and just enough light to turn off my headlamp, I set to making chicken noodle soup (aka Ramen). I had my doubts about the quality of my work, so when El Toro arrived, I suggested he ask for the “official soup”. It turns out that it WAS ready, but it was TOMATO. Really, what were they thinking? So, I sent El Toro off with soup not quite just like grandma used to make. I lingered, wondering how the others were doing. Guthrie was on scene, and advised that Mr. Bimble had slowed (we all knew he was “under the weather”) to a manageable pace, but would be along shortly. It as there while we lingered that we were conversing with a very nice gentleman who was crewing the racer in seventh place. After he found out we were from Connecticut, he asked if either of us knew “that crazy guy” from Connecticut. Well, that CERTAINLY narrows things down, doesn’t it? Well, apparently so, because when Guthrie asked if he meant Ultra, he enthusiastically replied “Yeah, that’s him!” and “do you know him?”. I no time I had Donny Wilkinson talking on my cell to our very own Ultra, who had not yet started “empathizing” for the Hellgate runners. How’s that for a small world?

As I drove down the mountain from this station, the runners were coming up the same road. I gave a big “thumbs up” to each, and stopped to shout “hey” to Mr. Bimble, who had slowed, but appeared very “in control” of the situation.

The next aid station could have been called the “hunting station”, as it had many hunters, and animal carcasses (not counting ultra-runners) all around. The bear hunters were out in force. I knew I had a little bit of a wait for El Toro, but I was shocked when Loopy stepped out of the car next to me. It was an utterly disorienting experience. Sadly, Loopy had missed the cut-off at Aid Station #4, and had been transported forward, meeting up with me here at Aid Station #6. We waited together for El Toro, who was equally confused when Loopy greeted him. Loopy remained upbeat, so as not to discourage El Toro. David Horton made some “motivational” disparaging comments to El Toro to speed him on his way. Now, despite her extreme fatigue, Loopy would have to tag along with me for the rest of the race, as there was no time to ferry her back to Camp Bethel because El Toro was moving so quickly. So, she took on co-pilot responsibilities. As it turns out, it is (marginally) better for the co-pilot to fall asleep than for the pilot to do so.

Things seemed to be happening REAL fast, and I was getting very nervous, and making lots of wrong turns. Still, somehow, I managed to get to the stations before El Toro, take stock of where the other runners were, and tend to things as he arrived. At the last aid station, #9, we picked up a DNF’d runner to bring back to Camp Bethel. It turns out that it was the guy who won the entire Beast Series last year, Harland Peele.

Back at Camp Bethel, Loopy waited, yawning but alert (?) with the camera for El Toro’s arrival. I ran a mile up the course to accompany him in. Since I saw him, he had passed the guy in 3rd place, but was, in turn, passed by the guy in 5th place. While 3rd place remained in sight, it was not within reach. El Toro finished under 13 hours in 4th place, an amazing accomplishment.

I arrived at Aid Station #9 with no sighting of Spuds. I didn’t expect that. I got ready to press on towards Aid Station #8, but I got cold feet, both literally and figuratively. What if I missed him? What if he dropped? Would I wind up out on the course, unregistered, with nobody looking for me, long past dark? I checked my watched and tried to calculate how much farther I could go, still leaving enough time to turn around and get back to Aid Station #9 before nightfall. Less than a mile up from Aid Station #9, I encountered Spuds, chugging along, his typical unflappable self. I asked if he would like some company for the trip “home”, and he said yes. I have NO IDEA what I would have done had he declined. We walked the uphill to the top of the Blue Ridge, and then started a shuffling run downhill to the finish. I think Spuds had more “legs” than he anticipated. While he appeared “spent”, he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure noone was gaining on him. At one point, someone was, and Spuds put the hammer down. He finished strong and fresh smelling.

After much slow movement, some munching, and tearful goodbyes, we hit the road. The trip home was slow, tiring and painful for all, but got done by mid-evening Sunday. I was truly impressed by all four of our runners:

El Toro: Boldly claiming a top 5 finish, and then doing it. All with style and humility as well, I might add.
Mr. Bimble: After a punishing and momentous year, returning yet again to Hellgate, realizing early in the race that this year would not be like previous years, and adjusting his pace accordingly to keep focused on the big picture of keeping his streak alive.
Spuds: For having demonstrated that he has now “figured it out”. That is, how to thrive at Hellgate. A plan, a pace, and a steely determination assured that he would achieve his goals.
Loopy: The boldness of the attempt, the burning desire to accomplish the task. Then, when all was lost, a brief and appropriate sullenness, replaced in practically no time with a determination to seek “revenge”.
Guthrie: A dedication to assistance that is extraordinary. I have a whole new appreciation for what goes into what she does.

For myself, I was fascinated, challenged, and humbled with the minimal-by-comparison tasks laid before me. I learned an enormous amount about racing, my friends, and myself. For my fellow Bimblers who feel an ultra-marathon may be too much for them, I say this: you may be right. Might I offer you a suggestion as to how to do an ultra-marathon without racing it? Crew it! I can pretty much guarantee you will not be disappointed.

Sorry about the “short” posting, Gotta Run!

This year’s Hellgate was the least enjoyable of the seven I have now completed. It was my slowest time but I am also glad to have completed it. The race director describes this event as ‘special’ and there is definitely something about it that makes it stand out. Over the years the trip to Virginia has built a number of traditions; the Thursday evening departure from Connecticut and overnight in Hamburg, PA. Breakfast and then a brief ‘pilgrimage’ to Cabela’s before heading south once more. Pre-dinner greetings with people you haven’t seen for 12 months and the main pre-race briefing. That too follows a similar pattern; there might be aid stations at the published locations, they might be manned by volunteers, they might have the snacks and supplies you expect, the weather will be unpredictable, the course is at least 100 kilometers and your eye balls may freeze during the night. At 11:00 pm a frantic convoy proceeds through the darkness to the start, if you were nervous before the journey, your legs will be wobbling even more by its end. Once at the start time moves quickly, final registration, the national anthem, a pray and GO!

In previous years I have loved the feeling of excitement up to this point, but over the past week I had been travelling for work and succumbed to my second cold of the winter. I felt tired and an offer of a hot toddy with somewhere warm to rest would have been difficult to refuse. But I haven’t missed this race since it was created and I hoped that somehow I’d be able to maintain that record and headed out into the night dosed up on Tylenol and sore throat lozenges.  There is always a burst of pace from runners you know you’ll see again later as they struggle on depleted energy reserves, so I try to find a steady rhythm at a pace I feel able to maintain. But in the cold night air I struggle for breath and soon a trickle of people passing me seems like a torrent, before too long the darkness closes in and I am running alone. The first section contains a creek crossing but wet weather during the week meant that your feet were damp long before that. From aid station 1, you have a dirt road that climbs steadily to the next stop. The climb is usually entirely run able, but not this year and I knew even more that I was in for a long night.

The conditions weren’t the coldest I have experienced but the on the higher elevations it was certainly cool enough. I managed to come across a few runners but each time I passed them they seemed to recovery sufficiently to overtake shortly afterwards. I focused on just keeping going at a pace that also kept me warm.  At the first station that Guthrie was able to reach, I got news of ET’s progress. It sounded like his early pace might be too quick and I hoped he would be able to hold thing together. I chuckled whenever I came across a landmark where I recalled him curse in frustration last year when we ran together, and wondered if he was venting at the same places this time around! For the rest of the time, I tried not to think of anything except to keep progressing t wards the next aid and after that, the next one.

Besides some packed snow as we skirted around the base of Headforemost Mountain, and an icy section just before you reached its summit, the trail was generally free from frost. We’d been told the leaves that usually provide a deep covering over the rocks were ‘better than previous years’, but it didn’t feel like it. They may not have been as deep, but they still covered plenty of obstacles to tax tired legs. I passed some bear hunters heading out with their dogs and radio tracking equipment and heard train horns sounding somewhere in the distance, a reminder from previous years that the finish was getting closer. The route though has two deceptive sections that feel much longer than perhaps they are. Sections 6 and 8 always kick your butt; they twist and turn constantly on a predominantly single track trail that heads either up or down, never flat! But the end always comes, you just have to persevere and it is amazing how quickly a feeling of desolation can fade with a cup of tepid soup and freeze dried PB&J. The final leg, just 3 miles up and 3 miles down to the finish is a grind, but you also feel a sense of relief and accomplishment because the end is now so near. A mile out from the line Guth had run out to meet me and we ran in together, it had been a relatively low key event for her as well. She pretty much has the route between stops ingrained in memory, even if the weather causes last minute detours and my need for previsions from her this year had been minimal. Of greater significance was the motivation she provided each time we met.

Completing an ultra is never a certainty. El Toro mentioned a few weeks before the race he hoped for a top 5 finish this year. It was a brave claim to make and an impressive one to achieve. Loopy was understandable disappointed not to make the cut at Headforemost, but should draw comfort that she tried and there is always next year. Spuds is over half way to claiming a 5 time finisher award and was pumped to improve on last year’s time. But I’ll leave their stories for them to tell. Once showered, we made it about 90 minutes up the highway to another tradition. The Best Weston at Staunton provides small rubber ducks in the bathroom of their guest rooms. I have quite a collection of them now!

To see more pictures, click here.

Click here, to see the race results.

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

Little did I know when I woke up Sunday morning that I would find out one of my students had a brain aneurism and would not make it to see to Thanksgiving. Little did I know when I woke up on Sunday that a fellow music teacher had died of a heart attack. Little did I know that I would run the Lil Rhody Runaround in memoriam to these two fellow human beings. My student was a three sport athlete, who often would put up with my stories of running, as do all my students. I try to weave the stories of the trail into what I call teachable moments but I am sure the kids often grow tired of me bringing up running. I am sure an athlete like Matt thought, “let’s humor the old guy”. My colleague was a band director who I grew up admiring as one of the leaders in our state.  So, I got in my car with my best friend Shelly Girl and we innocently made our way to Rhode Island, to run the little Rhody Runaround. Along the way we picked up Ticket and off to the race we went. Getting there early, we registered and then waited as seemingly herds of Bimblers began to appear. If I start mentioning people I am sure I will forget folks but there were at least a dozen of us all decked out in our bright orange Bluff shirts, ingeniously supplied by Mr. Bimble himself a few week earlier.

It was a picture perfect day to run a trail race and off we went. As far as trail races go Lil Rhody is pretty easy. You start with about a mile of gravel road before you are dumped into a brief section of single track. The race had not really opened up at this point so there was a bit of a slow down as everyone crammed onto the trail. After a brief dose of single track you enter an open field/ playground area followed by a brief road section that finally allows you to find your spot in the race. I think I passed Amy Sorenson here and remember thinking wow she is having great day. In a few hundred meters you find yourself back on single track and really begin to race. The trail is very well marked and it is almost impossible to lose your way. This part of the trail is also very easy running and it is a place to make some time. At this point I was running well and simply maintaining a strong pace. I had run a PR of 101:19 last year and had visions of breaking the one hour mark. I got to the lone aid station, about the half way point, grabbed a quick drink, and headed out to meet my goal. The second half of Little Rhody is more difficult than the first. It is not hard but there actually are a few hills and more technical terrain to navigate. I knew I had lost my race here last year and was determined not to have a repeat performance. I must admit that I was tired, but this year I kept pushing the whole way and exited the trail just at 55 minutes. Feeling home free for the one hour mark, I threw it into overdrive as I ran the final road section of the race. Then…. Ouch! What I thought was a right hand turn to the finish turned out to be just a right turn onto more road!!! Did I say ouch? I was screwed. All I could do was push as hard as I could through my dismay and the realization that I would not break the one hour mark. I must admit I hung in there. Maybe somewhere deep inside I knew that this would be the easiest part of my day and that things would be getting significantly more difficult once I left Rhode Island. In any event, I preserved and crossed the finish line in a PR of 1:00:58. I am sorry to say I was unable to stay to see most of the Bimblers finish. I was due in New Britain for a 2:00 concert and had to leave as soon as I saw Shelly Girl finish.

From her accounts, everyone did very well and the post race activities seemed to be as much fun as the running. This is as it should be! For me?  I drove to the concert happy with my performance, happy to see so many Bimblers at a race and blissfully unaware about the news I would hear as the day unfolded. I would like to dedicate the whole day to Mathew Buriak and Tim Ketterer. Wherever they are, may they find nothing but PR’s and happy trails. To us who remain behind? We must simply keep running as hard as we can, for as long as we are allowed this blessing.

See you on the trails

Lefty

To see more pictures, click here

As I was leaving my driveway on the Friday night before the Stone Cat 50 Miler, I said to Gretchen, lets zero the trip odometer on the car and really see where 50 miles is.  Running mostly in the trails, its hard to quantify that distance in my head.  You know, a lot of loops, out and backs, varied terrain, you get the picture. A couple of years back in Scranton,PA at the Steamtown Marathon, I drove to the start of that marathon to drive the route with Gretchen.  It was the first time I drove the route of a point to point marathon.  Wow, it was long.  I really got a sense of the distance we travel.  So, traveling up I-91 the odometer is clicking away.  We reach Hartford, we are not at 50 miles yet.  We turn onto I-84 East and head all the way to Manchester, near the Buckland Hills Mall, and the odometer finally hits 50 miles.  Holy ***t, this is far.  I know 50 miles is far, but “BLAM”, reality check.

I haven’t been nervous about a race in a while.  More thrilled for a new adventure, then nervous.  I have to say I was nervous about this race for a couple of reasons.  First, it was my first attempt at the 50 mile distance.  So, that was the unknown factor.  How would my body hold up,  will I eat and drink right, etc.  I felt confident in my training.  I had an ambitious plan which was constantly altered by life to make an adequate plan.  I had done several long runs in the 30 mile range and several long runs in the 20 miles range on the road.  Yes, I did say road.  I needed to improve my speed and get longer runs done in a shorter time, so I did a fair amount of road work.  Sadie was not happy about that.  Anyway, I was feeling good at the ends of those runs and was confident in my fitness level.  I knew I would finish, barring any mishap, and I was shooting for a 10 hour finish as my goal.

Then came reason number two for being nervous.  The Sunday before the race, I was part of a nice 9 mile run at Miller’s Pond and about a 1/4 mile in I proceeded to badly sprain my right ankle.  Tendons were heard to pop, and I had to walk/hobble out to my truck.  The race was in question.  That day, the pain was so intense, that I thought it may have been fractured.  I aggressively iced it, took Advil, and elevated it.  The next day it felt better and I was hoping it would get better.  Thursday night, Guthrie was kind enough to use me as a Guinea Pig and try out her new Kineseology Taping methods on me.  It was still hurting, bruised and swollen, so why not.  I had already made my decision to go and see what happens.  The tape lasted until race morning, when it started to come off, so I took it off before I got dressed.  I do believe it helped with the healing for those two days.  I had bought a light ankle brace to try and I was going to give that a go.  The ankle felt much more stable with it on.  But I had not worn it running ever, let alone for 50 miles.  Breaking the cardinal rule of not trying anything new on race day made me nervous, but I had no choice.

Four o’clock came quickly after a night spent tossing and turning.  Breakfast was served at 4:30 and the room was stuffed with runners exchanging greetings and checking out who was there.  Its nice to be in a sport where you can say “Hi” to some of the sport’s elites, such as Ben Nephew and Jack Pilla, over a bowl of Cheerios.  Even saw a couple of those orange shirts from some race in Connecticut, very eye opening at 4:30 AM.  We left the hotel into a dark, chilly morning to get to the race location about 20 minutes away.  The car thermometer read 28 degrees.

Reaching the school that the race uses as its Start/Finish area, we were directed into the school parking lot.  The 50 milers get to park close, while the marathoners have to park farther away in another lot and walk to the school.  A little perk for the 50 milers.  I was already feeling special.  We walked into the warm school gym to register and got a nice long sleeve technical shirt in a modest dark blue color.  Prerace meeting was at 6:00 and the race was to start when it was light enough to see, about 6:15.  I made final decisions on my starting ensemble.  I was going with a SS shirt, LS shirt, Insulated LS shirt, trail shorts, throwaway gloves, BUFF made into a beanie, a Nathan handheld and my ankle brace.  I started out with my Montrail Continental Divides and Injini Toe socks and had my Salomon XT Wings and another style of socks in my drop bag if I felt the need to change them.  So there I was toeing the line with a new distance in front of me, a severely sprained ankle with a new piece of equipment bracing it, the knowledge that I had not run in over a week, and a lot of determination.  Ultra’s mantra “It is what it is” was playing in my head.  Circumstances dealt me this, so deal with it.  It was what it was.  It was a beautiful day, I was doing something I love to do, I was supported by my wonderful wife, and the day may be short with a 12.5 mile run on a new trail, or it could be my longest distance run ever.  Time to leap into the unknown.

The race starts with the approximately 300 participants of both the 50 miler and the marathon sprinting across a couple of soccer fields where the course enters the woods at the far end.  As you enter the woods, the marathoners take a quick left to do a 1.2 mile loop around the school to get their requisite 26.2 after they complete the two 12.5 mile loops.  This point was an obvious choke point, but past it the trail opened up into a wide double track, and I never saw it bunch up again.  The course goes up this double track for about 3/4 of a mile and then turns hard left onto single track and the biggest hill on the course.  This starts the loop proper.  The course is a mix of single track, double track and dirt roads.  It is a very runnable course with constant rolling hills and has little technical running.  Kind of like the Bluff 50K. (Insert Laugh Track)  Speaking of the Bluff, I met a young man who had overheard me speaking with another runner, that I was from Connecticut.  He had run the Bluff and asked me if I had.  I told him I had run an Aid Station, but had run the whole course.  He proceeded to tell(complain) that he wanted to use it as a training run for the Stone Cat but it had beaten him up and was a lot harder than he thought it would be.  He did say that the race was run well and the course was well marked and he had no problem following it.  I did notice other Bluff runners and actually the winner of the 2009 Bluff 50k was the winner of the Stone Cat 50 miler.

My ankle felt secure in the brace and had only a modest amount of uncomfortableness (word??) in it, so I felt good and was running well which immediately boosted my confidence.  At 4.2 miles is Al’s Cat Lounge, the first aid station.  Great bunch of people who have everything you could want. They have been known to knock back a few while attending to the runners.  More on that later.  They had bacon and eggs cooking on the griddle.  Tempting, but remember, nothing new in ultra racing.  So for my nutrition plan, I was going to eat early, and eat often.  I quickly grabbed a quarter of a grilled cheese sandwich with ham and some Pringles and headed out.  I like to get out of the aid stations quickly and walk with my food until I finish it.  This gives me a walking break where I can eat, but I am constantly moving forward.

I was now actually running the pace I wanted to for the race.  The second aid station is Fred’s at 7.5 miles. Again the routine, fill up the handheld, get food, get moving.  Only five more miles to finish loop Number 1.  After a mile or so, that right wheel started to wobble.  My plantar was starting to hurt and there was a pain in the top of my foot.  Now I had to start weighing the options.  Do I try to loosen the brace and maybe that will work or should I remove it and risk injuring my ankle.  As the last couple miles went by and I was headed in, the pain in the bottom of my foot became so intense, that I was changing my stride because of it.  The decision was made.  Take off the brace, put it in my pocket for emergencies and lets see how we do.  I was finishing one loop and was definitely headed out for the next.  I came across the finish line to check in for the first loop in about 2:15.  I took off the brace slid it into my front pocket, kept all of my layers on because it was still cold, replenished water and food and headed out on Loop #2.

The ankle felt very unstable and was very tender.  The aforementioned uncomfortableness (word??) was now a constant pain in my ankle.  I had to slow way down and pick my way around obstacles and watch each footfall.  The plantar pain went away and the pain in the top of my foot also did.  The pain in my ankle I could deal with and could run with it.  Every stride came with great effort to keep my form.  I was now worried if I developed some kind of weird gait to compensate for the ankle, something else was going to give.  I was cautiously confident now of my finishing.  Back through the aid stations I went, Al’s was getting a little more raucous this time around.  On my way out of Fred’s for the last 5 miles, my mind started to wander and I started having a tough time.  I was thinking too much of how tired I was and all the concentration I was using to run and I thought about after this loop I am only halfway done, not even in Rocky Hill yet.  I have a long way to go to get to the Buckland Hills mall.  I had to drag myself out of the doldrums and just concentrate on reaching smaller goals.  Reach the next turn, get to that tree, etc. until I finally was headed into the turnaround.  Most people find Loop #3 the hardest, but I found Loop #2 the hardest for me.  I came into the finish line for Loop #2 in 5:08.  That loop was hard for me and I knew I wasn’t going to make my primary goal of 10 hours, plus the loops were not going to get faster.  I think I had realized that subconsciously on Loop #2 and it got me down a bit.

In the Stone Cat 50 miler, you can have a pacer for the last two loops.  Gretchen had come with me and she was planning on doing the last two loops with me.  She needed a long run and this would have to do.  So she joined me at the start of Loop #3.  We had a great time talking.  Having memorized the course by now I would, point out some of the prettier sections.  This being her first time pacing, I would try to fill her in on what I needed.  Again we went by Al’s Cat Lounge who had ratcheted up a notch more and were having a good ole time attending to the runners and for themselves.  So Loop #3 finished pretty quickly, in my mind anyway, at 8:11.  At this time we had to grab our lights because it would be dark before we finished.

So we start out on Loop #4.  The last loop, thank goodness.  I think the boredom of the course was getting to me.  It was like National Lampoon’s European vacation when they were stuck in the rotary in London. ” Hey kids, look.  Big Ben, The Tower of London, Parliament”  I have a photographic memory and I had this course down by now and I knew how long it was between places.  The distraction of having Gretchen around kept my sanity, plus we had a mission to get as far as we could in the loop before it got dark.  We knew once the headlamps came out the pace would get slower.  This time at Al’s it was like being the only sober people at a party of drunks.  We quickly got out of there so as not to be caught up in the revelry.  The sun was waning as we ran to Fred’s.  I realized that I was running on this same trail while the sun was rising and now as it was setting.  It had been a long day.

At Fred’s the sun was below the horizon and we need to put our headlamps on. 5 miles to go, yeah!!  It got real dark ,real quick.  Running in Vermont this summer there was some dark places, but the glow lights lead the way and added comfort to your navigation.  These woods had no glow lights and the course tape was not reflective.  It was a big challenge watching the ground, and trying to find the tape.  My recollection of the course was not as sharp, because you couldn’t see far ahead to have that confidence you were on course.  So for five miles we ran from tape to tape.  We ran into a mountain biker who was part of the race and he told us it was only a mile and a half to the finish.  We then ran into another volunteer about 3/4 of mile from the finish.  Finally we could hear and see the finish line.  I crossed the line in 11 hours, 33 minutes.  I did it.  I did my first 50 miler.  I got my finisher’s jacket, thanked everybody and went back to the car.

We stopped to get some Stone Cat Ale to celebrate and some fast food for the ride home.  Three hours later we arrived home.  I could barely walk into the house.  My legs were swollen and my feet and ankles were swollen to double their normal size.  I hadn’t felt this bad in a long time after a race.  After a shower and a tough night, my body started feeling better the next day.

The Stone Cat Trail races are a well run race, with plenty of runner support and schwag.  I would recommend it for a first time 50 miler.  I personally don’t like repetitive loops and they got boring to me.  Hmmm, I heard there is this nice ultra race up in New York that might fit my bill.  The Virgil Crest 50 may be in my future.