Mind numbingly cold. While it's tempting to leave it at that, there's actually a lot to like about this race and I can't really hold the weather against the organizers, especially since I did sign up for a outdoor event the first week in March. So let's get to it.
I signed up for the Seneca Creek Trail Marathon to force myself NOT to sign up for the Rock-n-Roll Marathon in DC, which is the week after. I have a hate/hate relationship with the RnR race, yet compulsively sign up every year because it's convenient to my house. Not this year, though. Instead we're hitting the trails.
Seneca is a small race of a couple hundred runners about evenly split between those running the fake marathon distance of 28 miles and the fake 50K distance of 32-33 miles. As the first race of the year, I was all-in on the marathon. Rolling up to Seneca Creek Park in Gaithersburg just past the B-Dubs, you'd never know there were 33 miles of trails hidden back there. Parking is easy, though the early birds get the spaces closer to the start. Volunteers were terrific, even though it was 22 degrees outside. I jogged the 1/4 mile to registration, got my bib and beer glass, and jogged back to my car to stay warm.
Ten minutes before the gun (actually someone yelling "Go!"), I made my way up to the start and hung my winter coat I had been wearing on a fence nearby. You have to love the convenience of the small races. No lines, no bag check, park right near the start etc...
Go. I ran the first 4-5 miles with a friend at a pretty slow pace, which was fine both because I really wasn't focused on my time and it conserved energy. The downside was that my hands were so cold even with two pairs of gloves on each hand, I thought I was getting frost bite. The first 1/2 mile is along the road to allow the pack to thin out and runners to match paces with others. Once we hit the trail, it was single tracking almost the entire way.
The course runs generally south towards the Potomac River and then loops back. While runners end up back where they started, there are only a couple miles of overlap on the out and back, though the hills on miles 21-27 will make you wish you ran back the way you came. As I said, the first 4-5 miles were pretty slow and relaxed. There are a few hills along this stretch, but all runnable. After the first road crossing (note, cars have the right of way in this race--they will not stop traffic) at about mile 5, I passed a couple runners and lost track of my friend.
Here was where I had the first of a few mental lapses. While I knew the first aide station was at mile 7.5 or so, I was convinced it was at the next road crossing, which turned out to be at mile 6. In general, the aide stations for this race are 7-8 miles apart, which is longer than usual, but since early March is cold, one can get away with a less liquid, in theory. Anyway, I recovered from my disappointment of no break at mile 6 and made it to 7.5 and some PBJ and a bottle refill without incident.
For about a 1/2 mile, you run on the shoulder of the road until taking a sharp left back onto the trail. The next stretch, which takes you almost to the Potomac River is probably the easiest on the course with gentle hills and lots of mostly flat runnable single-track. I locked in with a group of about 6 runners and stayed with them until the turnaround at mile 14.
At the turnaround, you run for about 3/4 mile on the road, which to me is always a bit of a shock after 2 hours on trails. Add to that the fact that you are now running away from the river (aka uphill) and that the second half of the race is the hilly half and you're in for some fun. You will never be able to convince me that the span from mile 13.5 to the aide station at mile 15 is actually only 1.5 miles. I realize trail run distances are viewed as estimates and it's all in good fun, but damn.
I mentioned earlier some mental lapses. This time I lapsed in a good direction. Some foggy trail math had me hitting the next aide station at mile 22-23, so when I rolled into the same parking lot that housed the mile 7.5 aide station also at mile 19.5, I was pretty excited and relieved. The next 1.5 miles is one of only two short stretched where runners cover the same ground heading home as they did going out. Here's where I made a small error that I paid for later. I felt good leaving the aide station and pushed the pace envisioning only a 10K to the finish. Except, remember this is a trail marathon in name only. Actual distance is about 28.5.
Miles 21-27 are hilly, switchbacks that turn 3-4 miles as the crow flies into 6. Oh, it's scenic enough, but seems to go on forever ending only with my favorite sign on the course--the only marathon mile 27 marker I've ever seen. Instead of being in the finisher recovery area, it's time to hang a left and head back onto the trail for the last 1.5 miles to the finish.
About a 1/4 mile from the "marathon" finish, runners can choose to veer right and run around a lake to make the race a "50K". Not happening for me. I veered left and ran straight to the large fireplace at the finish area. The temp never got above freezing and the moment I stopped running, I was cold all over again.
The finish area was fun and festive. The volunteers were terrific. And, I would definitely return to this race and to the course for a weekend run. That day, at that time, though, I just wanted to get warm!
Monday, May 8, 2017
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Marine Corps Marathon Preview
For those of you running the 41st MCM on Sunday, I thought
I'd share some thoughts leading up to the race from the perspective of someone
who has run the race five times and finished four (a mid-race injury cut short
last year's effort at mile 18). I've run the race in times ranging from 3:23 to
3:42 and will be shooting for a 3:25-3:30 race this year.
Okay, to summarize, leave early.
So, let's get to it. This marathon is an experience race
that for many runners is a bucket list run. Yes, you can be serious about your
time, but be sure to enjoy and appreciate the effort that the Marines put in to
making this a well-organized and special day. Even so, well organized, does not
mean it's a snap to get to the start. This is no roll up 15 minutes before the
gun, stretch, pee and go race. Start time is 7:55am and your alarm clock is
probably 5:00am (though I've gotten away with 5:45).
This year, the logistics are potentially worse with the
Washington metro refusing to open early. The start line will remain open for an
hour to help, but if you want to be there at 7:55--and you should--plan ahead.
I'll get to the start in a moment, but be sure to allow not only time to get to
the shuttles and for the ride, but also to get through security. Last year was
a debacle with runners held up for an hour trying to get through the metal
detectors. They've promised a smoother operation this year, but best to plan on
that process taking 30 minutes. And that's after a 10-15 minute walk from the
Pentagon. Okay, to summarize, leave early.
Runners village is honestly like every other large marathon
runners village--lots of porta-potties with lines in front of them no matter
how many there are. There is little cover, so bring an umbrella or poncho if
rain is in the forecast. Once you've checked your bag, head to the start.
Depending on your pace, that could be a 3 minute or ten minute walk. Remember
to look up. This is the Marines after all. There will be sky divers and flying
tech. A loud boom will signal the start.
So, you're finally running. That was the point, right? For
most runners, you can start on either side of route 110. I honestly have no
idea if there's any advantage to one side or the other--they merge before mile
1--but I always start on the left side running against traffic. The first mile
along route 110 is filled with spectators and really gives you a great opening
kick. It's hard to go slow because your adrenaline is pumping, there is a
little dip downhill and heck hundreds of people are telling you how awesome you
are. Try to rein it in nonetheless. You're going to need "it" pretty
quickly.
The toughest hill--except for the one at mile 26--comes
right away at mile 2 and it is a HILL. If this was mile 16 there would be
tears, but it's only mile 2, so suck it up and run. I've heard the race
director say the hill creates a perfect opportunity to ease back your pace and
get yourself under control. While I can't really argue with his logic, my
approach is to grind it up that SOB at a good clip knowing I have an almost two
mile downhill right afterwards that is good for the soul.
And it is, good. Flying down the exit ramp onto the GW
Parkway will probably be one of your fastest miles of the day. Take what the
course gives you and enjoy gravity. There's no one around except runners peeing
in the woods (does that answer a philosophical question) and you are
approaching Georgetown, which is one of the best cheering sections of the race.
Mile 4 takes you across the Key Bridge and onto M Street. A short 1/2 mile
later runners make a sharp right onto Wisconsin. This two blocks is a steep
downhill and then a sharp turn to the left. Be careful.
Leaving Georgetown, you start to realize that you're really
doing this. The 10K mat your about to cross on the Rock Creek Parkway is not
the finish line. Rock Creek itself is a gradual uphill until the turnaround,
which this year is about a half mile closer. Once you make the turn, you can
settle into a nice rhythm along a flat, ever so slightly downhill, stretch that
leads you into West Potomac Park.
About halfway through the park, be prepared for the
inspiration and emotion of the tribute to fallen soldiers as volunteers hold American
flags next to photos of the fallen. And, all you are doing is running 26.2
miles. Perspective, right?
All of West and East Potomac Parks is flat and sparsely
cheered. Keep an eye out for a series of humorous signs that usually line the
back stretch. There’s also usually a medical station at the end of the park,
but you won’t need that.
Crossing the halfway point and leaving the park, you will
head back towards the Lincoln Memorial along Independence Avenue. The crowds
are with you for the next 5 miles, so enjoy. There’s a slight uphill coming out
of the park that can be a bit of a kick in the ass after 14 miles and another
one on the way back to the Washington Monument near mile 15, but once you are
on the mall its mostly flat-city. I strongly recommend you use these miles
(17-18) to restore and refresh as much as possible. Drink an extra water. If
you’ve been hording gels, down one. You
are approaching the bridge.
The 14th Street Bridge is a long, quiet, mostly
runners-only stretch of inner thinking that requires you to stay focused and
keep running. This might sound obvious, but it’s where many runners start to
hit the wall and there’s no one around encouraging you to keep going. There are
lots of spots to pull over and lean against a railing for a while. Fight it. If
you can make it to Crystal city—you’re home.
Except that this year they have added 1.5 miles to this part
of the race to make up for the shorter distance in DC, so we will get to run
through a parking lot before heading into Crystal City. That should be fun.
But, now it’s just a 10K to the finish line. Come on, people. We run 10Ks in
our sleep.
The good news is that miles 20-23 are rocking with
spectators and noise. The bad news is you’re tired and if these people have so
much energy, why don’t they get their asses out here and do some running. It’s basically
an out and back through Crystal City, but the end is near. After a few twists
and turns, you are back on Route 110 and running for the Iwo Jima Memorial and
the finish. Trust me when I say this road will feel like it goes on forever.
You’ll finally get to the where the Runner’s Village was in the morning and
think, hey, almost there. And then you’ll remember how far you walked to get to
the start line, and how far you ran before you saw the finish line, and realize
you have another mile to go.
With a half mile to go, though, the crowds will pull you
home. As the spectators increase, your head will tick up slightly and you’ll maybe
see runners ahead veering sharply left. The hill awaits. Take it at as fast a
pace as you’ve got. High five people if you can. Wave, raise a fist. You earned
this part. By the time you come to your senses, the finish line will be in
sight. Good luck, Sunday!Monday, July 18, 2016
DNR Catoctin 50K This Year
Thanks to everyone who checked out the blog prior to the race this year and to those of you hoping to read the 2016 recap. Sadly, a last minute company softball injury (I know, pathetic) resulted in my having to cancel plans to run the Catoctin 50K. It looks like it was a hot one (stating the obvious) and I'll be back in 2017.
Friday, April 15, 2016
2016 Northface Endurance 50K Washington DC
It was a dark and stormy morning (really, it was). 2016 was the 4th year in a row I've run the ECDC 50K from Algonquian Park to Great Falls and back. 2013 was a muddy mess. 2014 was hotter than Hell. 2015 was perfect. And 2016 was cold, rainy, snowy, sleety and muddy.
My alarm rang out at 4:30am and I had my first crisis of commitment. It was cold, the forecast was bad and my bed was warm. I waffled for about 30 seconds, but mentally rallied and hit the shower. Yay me! Two eggs scrambled, toast, band aids on chest, Glide everywhere else, a shopping bag filled with almost every conceivable combination of running clothes and post-race dry clothes; and I hit the road at 5:15am.
A steady drizzle peppered my windshield as I drove up the GW Parkway from downtown DC to the start at Algonquian Regional Park. I went through various permutations of outfits in my head trying to gauge how the weather (high 30s with rain in forecast) would affect me. I finally settled on a long sleeve running shirt and a waterproof lightweight jacket that, if necessary, I was willing to abandon should I get too hot (that turned out to be some optimistic thinking on my part).
Crisis of commitment #2 occurred after parking my car at the Loudon Tech Center. As we waited for a shuttle bus, a downpour of sleet sent us running for cover. Listening to the steady rat-tat-tat of the icy rain drops, I thought of my warm car, right over there, of a pot of coffee, of anything other than 31 miles through freezing mud slick trails. I wavered, but held firm. The sleet abated after a few minutes, three busses arrived and I got a seat in the front row, so there's that.
The "sun" started to lighten the sky as we rode the 10 minutes from the parking lot to the drop off point. I say the "drop off point" rather than the starting area, because they are not actually that close to each other. While in the scheme of a 50K race, a 1/4 mile walk might not seem like much, it is, and it is how far away the bus drops runners off from the starting area. Good news, though, the rain stopped as the porta-potties came into view (quite a majestic image, I know).
By now it was about 6:30am and the race began at 7:00am. I had work to do. One aspect of this race I love is the fact that there are no lines for the porta-potties. Enough said. I returned to my bag, which I had left on a table under a tent (thank you random sponsor who stayed in bed and left your tent behind) and began prep for the start. I filled my handheld with Gatorade; strapped on my iPhone; put on hat, gloves, jacket. I stuffed headphones in a zipper pocket for miles 19-31 (music is my reward for making it that far) and a gel in the handheld's pouch.
With 5 minutes to go, I pulled off my sweatpants, stuffed them in the bag and handed it over to bag check. Dean Karnazes made a blessedly brief speech--have a good run, grab a beer when you get back-- and we were off. Having run the race before, I knew that even in the best conditions the first 1/2 mile takes you across a field that is always muddy. Sure enough, we were running through icy puddles within 5 minutes. Wow, that water was cold. I wondered if my feet would be freezing the entire race--not a good thought.
After the run around the soccer field, we headed onto pavement for about 3/4 mile and then onto packed gravel for another mile. This stretch helped dry out my shoes and my feet warmed up. Strategically, this is an important part of the run, even this early. It's your chance to position yourself with similar paced runner prior to the single track on the Potomac Heritage trail that starts at about mile 2. I found some open space and turned left into the woods with good space ahead and behind me.
MUD. As expected the trail was a mess. I honestly don't understand how the top runners could keep anything near an 8 minute pace in this slop. All together, there were probably about 14 total miles of wet, slippery, mud filled trails of the 31 (or so) total. I accepted the mud into my life and simply ran through it in a constant state of almost wiping out.
Even with the slickness of the trail (and a steady drizzle at this point), I made it through Trump National Golf course and over the first climb (about mile 3.5) feeling pretty strong and rolled into the first Aid Station before I expected to. I didn't wear a watch, so I'm not sure on my time, but I was averaging 10 minute miles when I reached Great Falls, so that's a reasonable estimate. Some PBJ and back to the mud.
The stretch from 5.5 miles to Great Falls (mile 12.4), which used to be one long stretch without an Aid Station in between, is I think the most challenging in both directions. Going out there are more hills than the early miles and coming back its right at the "hit the wall" mileage of miles 20-25. Still, heading out, I again came to the Aid Station at 8.4 ahead of when I expected to. I credit this to the need to focus so intently on each step that miles crept past without realizing. More PBJ and off to Great Falls.
I should mention that I considered removing my jacket during this stretch because the sun threatened to peek out and without any wind, it was actually feeling almost warm. I chose not to and that turned out to be a wise decision as snow, rain and wind were all waiting for me on the way back.
I actually enjoy this stretch as there are some nice flat stretches where you can run with fear of wipeout and some long gradual hills that can be run, if you're feeling good. The one near death experience is a steep hill down into Great Fall park that on this day was like a slip and slide from Hell. I do like the run into the Visitors Center at Great Falls as even in this weather there were lots of spectators cheering runners on (must be first timers, as my family was still snug in bed having come to the conclusion long ago that I was unlike to perish during these bouts of insanity and didn't need to be there to say good bye).
Once onto the Great Fall Park loop, the 50K runner catch up to the 50 mile runner who have been doing this for 2 more hours than any of us. It's actually kind of an energy boost when you realize you have to do one loop and these guys/gals are only on loop 2 of 3. Also, while there are a lot of ups and downs in the park, the trails are comparably dry and much easier to run on. Lastly, because there are several loops and out-and-backs, you pass a lot of runners and everyone is really supportive and encouraging. I find these miles (12.4 - 19) pass the fastest of any.
I think if I made one error in planning and execution, it was in not having enough to eat in the park. My ultra go-to food is PBJ and that's not allowed in the park, so I usually pack a gel and supplement with saltines and whatever else looks edible. I only brought one gel this time and as I departed the park I immediately regretted not having another. Sure, 110 calories probably didn't make or break my run, but with the cool temps, hydration wasn't an issue, so a little extra food couldn't have hurt.
Anyway, I left Great Falls (mile 19) slowly--not because I felt badly physically, but because the rain and my outfit were not cooperating with my plan to get my headphones out of a pocket, turn on some music on my phone which was under my jacket and be able to swipe and with wet gloves (hint: doesn't work). Eventually, I just stopped, put everything down and got organized (e.g. things one never does in a road marathon).
SHOUT OUT TO AID STATION VOLUNTEERS -- Thank You! Every volunteer I encountered (okay, except one who shall remain nameless and blameless, as its a tough, cold job) was friendly, helpful and encouraging!
Heading back to Algonquian Park, I felt the best I had all day. It turned out to be an illusion, but for the next 2-3 miles I entertained visions of beating my time from the previous year of 5:27 even in the terrible conditions. I passed a few runners, ran up the small hills and found my way back onto the Heritage Trail still picking off a runner ahead of me every 1/2 mile or so. But, it was not meant to last.
Similar to a couple years ago, as I stepped back onto the mud filled trails, I found myself having difficulty taking deep breaths and as a result could only maintain a running pace for a few minutes at a time before needing to walk to catch my breath. I had been battling allergies, so it's possible my lungs were just a little tired of nature coupled with dropping 22 miles of trail running on them, but regardless, as I approached the Aid Station at mile 23, my run had turned into a run/walk.
The beauty of the ultra mentality though is that this isn't defeat, it's simply an alternative path to the finish line. And, back at the Aid Station, there were PBJ sandwiches again, so there's that. Leaving that Aid Station was a challenge, though, as it is place at the bottom of two hills and by the time I was heading back the homebound route was so slick, I had to grab a tree and swing off to the side of the trail to escape.
Despite my comment about the ultra mentality, it was a bit of a blow to be passed by runners I had left behind during miles 19-22, but I settled into a nice pattern of running a 1/4 mile, walking for a minute and repeating. It probably meant a pace closer to 13 min/mile rather than the 10 min/mile I had managed earlier, but it kept me heading in the right direction and I stumbled into the 26 mile Aid Station just ready to have the race be over and glad the end was near.
One final hill to climb and then the golf course comes into view, which is a huge mental boost since the finish line is adjacent to the course. I had a brief conversation with another runner about whether the mud was less muddy on the way back, but we concluded we were both delirious and should stop trying to engage in complex thought. I'm pretty sure he was real.
Finally at mile 29-ish, I exited the woods and ran back onto relatively solid ground. Another terrific volunteer used her dry index finger to tap my phone and restart some music for the final push. Before the race, I told myself to skip the last Aid Station with 1.6 miles to go to save a couple minutes and count on adrenaline to get me to the finish line. That was stupid. If there were Aid Stations every 20 feet for the last mile, I probably would have stopped at each. I'm kind of an Aid Station groupie. Still, I did keep it brief and was soon back on asphalt heading to the finish.
I crossed the line to some polite cheers from strangers (thank you strangers) and glanced at the clock -- 1:00pm. A six hour run, 30 minutes slower than last year. Not bad given the conditions. I felt okay physically and was even able to eat half a hot dog. But, I was sooo cold. Thank God for the dry clothes I had packed.
Final thought -- Definitely recommend!
My alarm rang out at 4:30am and I had my first crisis of commitment. It was cold, the forecast was bad and my bed was warm. I waffled for about 30 seconds, but mentally rallied and hit the shower. Yay me! Two eggs scrambled, toast, band aids on chest, Glide everywhere else, a shopping bag filled with almost every conceivable combination of running clothes and post-race dry clothes; and I hit the road at 5:15am.
A steady drizzle peppered my windshield as I drove up the GW Parkway from downtown DC to the start at Algonquian Regional Park. I went through various permutations of outfits in my head trying to gauge how the weather (high 30s with rain in forecast) would affect me. I finally settled on a long sleeve running shirt and a waterproof lightweight jacket that, if necessary, I was willing to abandon should I get too hot (that turned out to be some optimistic thinking on my part).
Crisis of commitment #2 occurred after parking my car at the Loudon Tech Center. As we waited for a shuttle bus, a downpour of sleet sent us running for cover. Listening to the steady rat-tat-tat of the icy rain drops, I thought of my warm car, right over there, of a pot of coffee, of anything other than 31 miles through freezing mud slick trails. I wavered, but held firm. The sleet abated after a few minutes, three busses arrived and I got a seat in the front row, so there's that.
The "sun" started to lighten the sky as we rode the 10 minutes from the parking lot to the drop off point. I say the "drop off point" rather than the starting area, because they are not actually that close to each other. While in the scheme of a 50K race, a 1/4 mile walk might not seem like much, it is, and it is how far away the bus drops runners off from the starting area. Good news, though, the rain stopped as the porta-potties came into view (quite a majestic image, I know).
By now it was about 6:30am and the race began at 7:00am. I had work to do. One aspect of this race I love is the fact that there are no lines for the porta-potties. Enough said. I returned to my bag, which I had left on a table under a tent (thank you random sponsor who stayed in bed and left your tent behind) and began prep for the start. I filled my handheld with Gatorade; strapped on my iPhone; put on hat, gloves, jacket. I stuffed headphones in a zipper pocket for miles 19-31 (music is my reward for making it that far) and a gel in the handheld's pouch.
With 5 minutes to go, I pulled off my sweatpants, stuffed them in the bag and handed it over to bag check. Dean Karnazes made a blessedly brief speech--have a good run, grab a beer when you get back-- and we were off. Having run the race before, I knew that even in the best conditions the first 1/2 mile takes you across a field that is always muddy. Sure enough, we were running through icy puddles within 5 minutes. Wow, that water was cold. I wondered if my feet would be freezing the entire race--not a good thought.
After the run around the soccer field, we headed onto pavement for about 3/4 mile and then onto packed gravel for another mile. This stretch helped dry out my shoes and my feet warmed up. Strategically, this is an important part of the run, even this early. It's your chance to position yourself with similar paced runner prior to the single track on the Potomac Heritage trail that starts at about mile 2. I found some open space and turned left into the woods with good space ahead and behind me.
MUD. As expected the trail was a mess. I honestly don't understand how the top runners could keep anything near an 8 minute pace in this slop. All together, there were probably about 14 total miles of wet, slippery, mud filled trails of the 31 (or so) total. I accepted the mud into my life and simply ran through it in a constant state of almost wiping out.
Even with the slickness of the trail (and a steady drizzle at this point), I made it through Trump National Golf course and over the first climb (about mile 3.5) feeling pretty strong and rolled into the first Aid Station before I expected to. I didn't wear a watch, so I'm not sure on my time, but I was averaging 10 minute miles when I reached Great Falls, so that's a reasonable estimate. Some PBJ and back to the mud.
The stretch from 5.5 miles to Great Falls (mile 12.4), which used to be one long stretch without an Aid Station in between, is I think the most challenging in both directions. Going out there are more hills than the early miles and coming back its right at the "hit the wall" mileage of miles 20-25. Still, heading out, I again came to the Aid Station at 8.4 ahead of when I expected to. I credit this to the need to focus so intently on each step that miles crept past without realizing. More PBJ and off to Great Falls.
I should mention that I considered removing my jacket during this stretch because the sun threatened to peek out and without any wind, it was actually feeling almost warm. I chose not to and that turned out to be a wise decision as snow, rain and wind were all waiting for me on the way back.
I actually enjoy this stretch as there are some nice flat stretches where you can run with fear of wipeout and some long gradual hills that can be run, if you're feeling good. The one near death experience is a steep hill down into Great Fall park that on this day was like a slip and slide from Hell. I do like the run into the Visitors Center at Great Falls as even in this weather there were lots of spectators cheering runners on (must be first timers, as my family was still snug in bed having come to the conclusion long ago that I was unlike to perish during these bouts of insanity and didn't need to be there to say good bye).
Once onto the Great Fall Park loop, the 50K runner catch up to the 50 mile runner who have been doing this for 2 more hours than any of us. It's actually kind of an energy boost when you realize you have to do one loop and these guys/gals are only on loop 2 of 3. Also, while there are a lot of ups and downs in the park, the trails are comparably dry and much easier to run on. Lastly, because there are several loops and out-and-backs, you pass a lot of runners and everyone is really supportive and encouraging. I find these miles (12.4 - 19) pass the fastest of any.
I think if I made one error in planning and execution, it was in not having enough to eat in the park. My ultra go-to food is PBJ and that's not allowed in the park, so I usually pack a gel and supplement with saltines and whatever else looks edible. I only brought one gel this time and as I departed the park I immediately regretted not having another. Sure, 110 calories probably didn't make or break my run, but with the cool temps, hydration wasn't an issue, so a little extra food couldn't have hurt.
Anyway, I left Great Falls (mile 19) slowly--not because I felt badly physically, but because the rain and my outfit were not cooperating with my plan to get my headphones out of a pocket, turn on some music on my phone which was under my jacket and be able to swipe and with wet gloves (hint: doesn't work). Eventually, I just stopped, put everything down and got organized (e.g. things one never does in a road marathon).
SHOUT OUT TO AID STATION VOLUNTEERS -- Thank You! Every volunteer I encountered (okay, except one who shall remain nameless and blameless, as its a tough, cold job) was friendly, helpful and encouraging!
Heading back to Algonquian Park, I felt the best I had all day. It turned out to be an illusion, but for the next 2-3 miles I entertained visions of beating my time from the previous year of 5:27 even in the terrible conditions. I passed a few runners, ran up the small hills and found my way back onto the Heritage Trail still picking off a runner ahead of me every 1/2 mile or so. But, it was not meant to last.
Similar to a couple years ago, as I stepped back onto the mud filled trails, I found myself having difficulty taking deep breaths and as a result could only maintain a running pace for a few minutes at a time before needing to walk to catch my breath. I had been battling allergies, so it's possible my lungs were just a little tired of nature coupled with dropping 22 miles of trail running on them, but regardless, as I approached the Aid Station at mile 23, my run had turned into a run/walk.
The beauty of the ultra mentality though is that this isn't defeat, it's simply an alternative path to the finish line. And, back at the Aid Station, there were PBJ sandwiches again, so there's that. Leaving that Aid Station was a challenge, though, as it is place at the bottom of two hills and by the time I was heading back the homebound route was so slick, I had to grab a tree and swing off to the side of the trail to escape.
Despite my comment about the ultra mentality, it was a bit of a blow to be passed by runners I had left behind during miles 19-22, but I settled into a nice pattern of running a 1/4 mile, walking for a minute and repeating. It probably meant a pace closer to 13 min/mile rather than the 10 min/mile I had managed earlier, but it kept me heading in the right direction and I stumbled into the 26 mile Aid Station just ready to have the race be over and glad the end was near.
One final hill to climb and then the golf course comes into view, which is a huge mental boost since the finish line is adjacent to the course. I had a brief conversation with another runner about whether the mud was less muddy on the way back, but we concluded we were both delirious and should stop trying to engage in complex thought. I'm pretty sure he was real.
Finally at mile 29-ish, I exited the woods and ran back onto relatively solid ground. Another terrific volunteer used her dry index finger to tap my phone and restart some music for the final push. Before the race, I told myself to skip the last Aid Station with 1.6 miles to go to save a couple minutes and count on adrenaline to get me to the finish line. That was stupid. If there were Aid Stations every 20 feet for the last mile, I probably would have stopped at each. I'm kind of an Aid Station groupie. Still, I did keep it brief and was soon back on asphalt heading to the finish.
I crossed the line to some polite cheers from strangers (thank you strangers) and glanced at the clock -- 1:00pm. A six hour run, 30 minutes slower than last year. Not bad given the conditions. I felt okay physically and was even able to eat half a hot dog. But, I was sooo cold. Thank God for the dry clothes I had packed.
Final thought -- Definitely recommend!
Monday, October 26, 2015
2015 Marine Corp Marathon Recap
Well, this is a first. A recap for a race I did not finish. Frustrating.
Cool weather, coupled with a security scrum that was an epic fail by the otherwise efficient and excellently organized Marines, resulted in me missing the start by over 10 minutes with no time for bathroom breaks or stretching. I and thousands of other runners stood almost motionless at the security checkpoints for over an hour.
So, started ahout ten minutes and 30 seconds after the gun with the 4:30 pace group instead of the 3:15 group as planned. First mile was slow due to passing runners and having to move side to side. Second mile suffered same challenges, as well as the hill in Arlington. Miles 3-4 were much faster downhill into GTown, though crossing Key Bridge was slow as the runners bunched up. After mile 5 stopped to say hi to my son for longer than I should have but I really appreciated him getting up early and biking across the city. First 5K ended up being about 8:00/mile pace, a good 30 seconds slower than planned/hoped for.
Going up Rock Creek Park, it opened up and I was able to run closer to pace. Took first gel after mile 6. 10 K time was 7:56/mile. After mile 7 on way back down Rock Creek started to sense a tightening in my right achilles, which seemed worse on the side-slanted roadway. By mile 10 by Kennedy Center, calf/achilles was getting worse, but at least there was running room.
I still seemed to be passing people as I entered West Potomac. But by the blue mile, a limp had developed affecting pace and gait. At mile 14, mentally the race became a 4 mile run to mile 18 where my wife was planning on cheering me on. My pace was further slowed by poor hydration coming into mile 16, as I was focused on a bathroom break--remember no time to per before starting--and stretching my calf. I still should have drunk more at halfway point.
By mile 17 the small limp was a full on limp and the race was lost. Two year ago I finished the Marine Corps with a broken bone in my foot, so you know I did not want to stop. But, I know my body well enough to know when I'm risking longer term injury. At 18.3 miles, I called it and stepped to the sidelines. My run was over.
No 5 year streak, but I'll be back.
Cool weather, coupled with a security scrum that was an epic fail by the otherwise efficient and excellently organized Marines, resulted in me missing the start by over 10 minutes with no time for bathroom breaks or stretching. I and thousands of other runners stood almost motionless at the security checkpoints for over an hour.
So, started ahout ten minutes and 30 seconds after the gun with the 4:30 pace group instead of the 3:15 group as planned. First mile was slow due to passing runners and having to move side to side. Second mile suffered same challenges, as well as the hill in Arlington. Miles 3-4 were much faster downhill into GTown, though crossing Key Bridge was slow as the runners bunched up. After mile 5 stopped to say hi to my son for longer than I should have but I really appreciated him getting up early and biking across the city. First 5K ended up being about 8:00/mile pace, a good 30 seconds slower than planned/hoped for.
Going up Rock Creek Park, it opened up and I was able to run closer to pace. Took first gel after mile 6. 10 K time was 7:56/mile. After mile 7 on way back down Rock Creek started to sense a tightening in my right achilles, which seemed worse on the side-slanted roadway. By mile 10 by Kennedy Center, calf/achilles was getting worse, but at least there was running room.
I still seemed to be passing people as I entered West Potomac. But by the blue mile, a limp had developed affecting pace and gait. At mile 14, mentally the race became a 4 mile run to mile 18 where my wife was planning on cheering me on. My pace was further slowed by poor hydration coming into mile 16, as I was focused on a bathroom break--remember no time to per before starting--and stretching my calf. I still should have drunk more at halfway point.
By mile 17 the small limp was a full on limp and the race was lost. Two year ago I finished the Marine Corps with a broken bone in my foot, so you know I did not want to stop. But, I know my body well enough to know when I'm risking longer term injury. At 18.3 miles, I called it and stepped to the sidelines. My run was over.
No 5 year streak, but I'll be back.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
2015 Marine Corp Marathon Pre-cap
So, here's something new. A precap. Having run the Marine Corps Marathon 4 years in a row (2015 will be #5), I thought I'd share some musings on the race in the days leading up to it. I know first hand how obsessive runners can be in the days before a race, so maybe this will provide you a helpful nugget or two.
I'll divide this post into three parts -- things to think about before the race, during the race, and after the race.
Pre-race
The Marines say get there early and they are not kidding. Now, I say this as someone that tries to cut it as close as possible, because I hate sitting around in a cold parking lot waiting for the start. But, consider a few realities. It is at least a 1/2 mile walk from the Pentagon metro to the runners village and then another 1/4 mile to the start. There is security that needs to be passed through. One year it was a breeze, barely even slowed people down. One year it took forever and people were literally running for the start line as soon as they passed through. Twice in my four years running it took some time, but not a big deal. Point is, you just don't know--and believe me the Marines are as efficient as possible.
It is cold, colder than you think it's going to be, colder than the forecast tells you it is. Wear a throw away sweatshirt or two and pants. Forget fashion. Forget being that tough guy/gal. It amazes me every year that I see runners shivering for 30-45 minutes before the start because they didn't think about the standing around time before the race. Clothes left at the start area get donated to charity. It's all good.
Race
I'll keep this relatively brief, but there are some key points along the route that are worth some planning.
The Hill--mile 1-2. Most people I've heard give advice on how to handle this early obstacle point out that it is a great forcing mechanism to make you slow down and not go out too fast. While I acknowledge that as rational, I'd like to make two other points. It's a great time to pass all those people who shouldn't have lined up in your pace group and put yourself in clearer space. There is an almost 2 mile downhill right after this hill, so sucking a little wind won't kill you and there's ample time to recover.
Rock Creek--miles 6-10. A less steep, longer version of the "the Hill" scenario. Don't kill yourself running north towards the zoo, but keep in mind, you have a 3 mile net downhill leading you into West Potomac Park, so push the pace a bit uphill and let gravity be your friend on the way back.
West/East Potomac Park--miles 10-15. Awful. Skip, if possible. Okay, seriously, they are flat, sparsely spectatored, and if you train in DC, you've run this stretch a million times...BUT...mile 12 is the Blue Mile, which features the pictures of fallen soldiers and volunteers holding large American flags for hours on end. Whatever pain, angst or fatigue you are feeling, just isn't that important, relatively speaking. Suck it up, run.
3 Small Hills--mile 15, mile 17 (2). They don't look like much. They aren't much. But, you're getting tired and for many the wall beckons like Ahab to his crew. Coming out of East Potomac is a slight uphill that can surprise you after 5 miles of flat running. And, running alongside the Washington Monument is deceptively uphill. And, then right as you enter the mall is a driveway length hill that can be a punch to the gut. Know they are all there and be ready.
The Bridge--miles20-21. Not only do you have to beat the bridge, but the damn thing goes on for freakin ever. Pick a pace, stick to it. If you have a song that shoots adrenaline into your veins, I'd use it here. There will be people walking, gasping for air, swearing at the running Gods. You have to tune this out and just run.
After that, it's less than a 10K. Come one, we've all run a 10K.
Post Race
No matter how badly you feel, try to run up the hill at the end and cross the finish line strong. Not only are the crowds great, but there is video of the finish you may want to look at later and not cringe.
Keep walking. The Marines will insist on this anyway, but you are a long way from your bag. Take any food and water offered. You will want it eventually, even if the sight if it makes you sick. Take the space blanket if it's offered. You will also want that eventually, especially if the lines for bag pick up are long and/or in the shade, which they can sometimes be.
Warn your family and friends who are trying to meet you at the finish line that it will take you 10-15 minutes to get to them after you cross the line.
That's it for now. Hope to see you all there... B
I'll divide this post into three parts -- things to think about before the race, during the race, and after the race.
Pre-race
The Marines say get there early and they are not kidding. Now, I say this as someone that tries to cut it as close as possible, because I hate sitting around in a cold parking lot waiting for the start. But, consider a few realities. It is at least a 1/2 mile walk from the Pentagon metro to the runners village and then another 1/4 mile to the start. There is security that needs to be passed through. One year it was a breeze, barely even slowed people down. One year it took forever and people were literally running for the start line as soon as they passed through. Twice in my four years running it took some time, but not a big deal. Point is, you just don't know--and believe me the Marines are as efficient as possible.
It is cold, colder than you think it's going to be, colder than the forecast tells you it is. Wear a throw away sweatshirt or two and pants. Forget fashion. Forget being that tough guy/gal. It amazes me every year that I see runners shivering for 30-45 minutes before the start because they didn't think about the standing around time before the race. Clothes left at the start area get donated to charity. It's all good.
Race
I'll keep this relatively brief, but there are some key points along the route that are worth some planning.
The Hill--mile 1-2. Most people I've heard give advice on how to handle this early obstacle point out that it is a great forcing mechanism to make you slow down and not go out too fast. While I acknowledge that as rational, I'd like to make two other points. It's a great time to pass all those people who shouldn't have lined up in your pace group and put yourself in clearer space. There is an almost 2 mile downhill right after this hill, so sucking a little wind won't kill you and there's ample time to recover.
Rock Creek--miles 6-10. A less steep, longer version of the "the Hill" scenario. Don't kill yourself running north towards the zoo, but keep in mind, you have a 3 mile net downhill leading you into West Potomac Park, so push the pace a bit uphill and let gravity be your friend on the way back.
West/East Potomac Park--miles 10-15. Awful. Skip, if possible. Okay, seriously, they are flat, sparsely spectatored, and if you train in DC, you've run this stretch a million times...BUT...mile 12 is the Blue Mile, which features the pictures of fallen soldiers and volunteers holding large American flags for hours on end. Whatever pain, angst or fatigue you are feeling, just isn't that important, relatively speaking. Suck it up, run.
3 Small Hills--mile 15, mile 17 (2). They don't look like much. They aren't much. But, you're getting tired and for many the wall beckons like Ahab to his crew. Coming out of East Potomac is a slight uphill that can surprise you after 5 miles of flat running. And, running alongside the Washington Monument is deceptively uphill. And, then right as you enter the mall is a driveway length hill that can be a punch to the gut. Know they are all there and be ready.
The Bridge--miles20-21. Not only do you have to beat the bridge, but the damn thing goes on for freakin ever. Pick a pace, stick to it. If you have a song that shoots adrenaline into your veins, I'd use it here. There will be people walking, gasping for air, swearing at the running Gods. You have to tune this out and just run.
After that, it's less than a 10K. Come one, we've all run a 10K.
Post Race
No matter how badly you feel, try to run up the hill at the end and cross the finish line strong. Not only are the crowds great, but there is video of the finish you may want to look at later and not cringe.
Keep walking. The Marines will insist on this anyway, but you are a long way from your bag. Take any food and water offered. You will want it eventually, even if the sight if it makes you sick. Take the space blanket if it's offered. You will also want that eventually, especially if the lines for bag pick up are long and/or in the shade, which they can sometimes be.
Warn your family and friends who are trying to meet you at the finish line that it will take you 10-15 minutes to get to them after you cross the line.
That's it for now. Hope to see you all there... B
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Catoctin 50K Recap -- The Beast in the East
I have started, stopped, erased, started, forgot, been reminded to complete and now finished this race recap over the past month or so. It's a complicated one that would be far too long to hold anyone's interest, if I truly did justice to all the twists (paths and ankles) and turns of this race. So, stay with me as best you can.
The Catoctin 50K is billed as a hot, technically difficult, hilly test of human endurance (but "only" 50K). I've run 15 marathons and four 50Ks and this was the first race I ever seriously considered backing out of for fear that I would not be able to finish. The race website reads like those warnings accompanying rollercoasters--do not ride if you are pregnant, have a heart condition, are sane, wish to live to see your children grow old etc . . . But, hey, it was also billed as a small, collegial, well-run race designed for true ultra-lovers where support and camaraderie were widespread and pity given to none.
I woke at 5:00am, dressed, ate and left Washington, DC at 6:00am for the 1 hour drive to north of Frederick, Maryland to the start at Gambrill State Park (The Tea Room, to be exact). Arriving at 7:10 am (8:00 am start time), I was able to get a good parking space and access to the one bathroom before a line formed. This is a small race of only 150 runners, so any lines are short. The bib pick-up and pre-race prep is more akin to a family reunion in its casualness and familiarity. I knew no-one there, but conversation was plentiful and relaxed (denial regarding the day ahead, I suppose).
The day was surprisingly cool with temps in the high 60s to low 70s, though that would change as the morning wore on (I don't think we ever hit 90, but mid-80s by early afternoon were a thing). I collected my gear and made some final wardrobe adjustments--under armor shorts, shirt from Chicago marathon (my shirt least likely to chafe), calf compression socks, Newton Boca Sol shoes, 2 20oz hand held water bottles with one emergency gel and iphone in arm band [Note: since an earlier ultra that took 90 minutes longer to complete than I had estimated, I am formally prohibited by my wife to run ultras without some way for her to reach me].
At about 7:50am, Race Director Kevin Sayers climbed a small ladder in the middle of the parking lot andannounced that we were all insane gave us a variety of helpful instructions on avoiding death and enjoying the day. He waxed poetically until someone told him in a friendly way to shut up, at which time he shrugged and yelled "GO!" Fortunately I had my water bottles in hand and we headed through the parking lot to add a 1/4 mile to the overall distance thin out the pack before we headed onto single track trails.
The first 1/2 mile or so is a steep downhill that's a fun rock hop until it hits you that this is also mile 31 on the way back. Sigh. Staying in the moment, though, I found myself in the middle of the pack moving more slowly than I could have, but reminding myself that was a good thing with a long day ahead. We had about 6 miles to the first aide station roughly half downhill and half up. The runners around me were all friendly, though conversation was limited by the need to pay close attention to every step--there are very few rock-free spots on this course.
I was fast on the downhills and passed several runners I suspect who were running their first ultra or trail run and being extremely cautious on the uneven trail.
[A quick aside about expectations and pacing. I had run four 50K races before with my best finish being 5:30 at the DC Northface. I knew the Catoctin would put that race to shame from a difficulty standpoint, so was roughly calculating a 7:00 finish time, which would put me in the top 50]
At about mile 2, I was formally baptized in the cult of the Catoctin when screams cut through the forest ahead. Two runners ahead of me yelled back something about a swarm of bees and took off into the woods giving the trail a wide berth. I followed them. A runner behind me did not and was soon jumping up and down and slapping his arms. We continued to yell "look out for bees" as long as we thought runners could hear us, but still, the occasional scream followed us in the distance.
The hills are relentless and the first 6 miles are a good microcosm of the overall race featuring steep ups and downs that quickly tame any idea of pushing the pace. A kick to the gut occurred at the crest of one such hill, when after running for what seemed an hour, a small sign denoting 3 miles back to the Gambrill Tea Room can be spotted taunting runners from a tree. Only halfway to the first aide station and 28-29 miles to go (no one seems to know just how far this race actually is). Fortunately, at about mile 5 the trail levels out a bit and a smooth jog into the first aide station is possible.
Our friend, race Director Kevin, is there with words of encouragement and the occasional quip about how people used to run into the aide stations back in his day. A couple delicious PBJ squares, some water and thanks to the amazing volunteers (who only get more amazing as the race goes on) two refilled water bottles (actually filled with Gatorade) and off I went. Someone described this next 3 mile stretch as the "flat" portion of the race and I suppose if one views a Housewife of Orange County as less self-obsessed than a Kardashian, then sure this could be the flat part of the race.
There is no question this section of the trail is wider and includes forest "roads", as well as a couple sharp turns that require very careful attention to the blue blazes that mark the Catoctin Trail. I was saved twice by eagle-eyed runners just ahead of me and made a strong mental note to remember this stretch on the way back when runners were likely to be even more spread out and I could not count on following someone. I can tell you that the 2nd aide station appears our of the trees, so much sooner than one expects. More PBJ, a handful of Pringles, water, refills on Gatorade and off.
This last stretch before the turnaround is 3 miles of flat and uphill followed by 3 miles down to the creek and the turnaround. I found myself near another runner and we traded places for the next few miles smiling each time one of us passed the other knowing the opposite would likely happen again shortly. He was a little quicker on the downhills and I was faster uphill. I had finally overtaken him after a particularly rocky stretch and was enjoying the first flat, dirt-only stretch of the race at mile 13 when for no explainable reason I rolled my left ankle and went down in a heap. I got up quickly and walked a few careful steps, but then had to bend over to catch my breath and not throw up. Damn, that hurt. My friend caught up to me and asked if I was okay. I waved him on knowing I could hobble to the next aide station in a worst case scenario.
After a minute or so, I started walking and after another minute began a slow jog. My ankle was sore but seemed to be holding up and a surprise awaited me at about mile 13.5--an unofficial aide station. Armed with beer, whiskey and who knows what else, a brave band of friends to the Catoctin 50K had set up shop and were refilling water bottles and assuring runners it was all downhill from here--which it actually was.
Over 2.5 miles of downhill running was next. I would have enjoyed it more if my ankle didn't still hurt and I didn't take my first face plant of the day. Unlike the second face plant of the day which occurred much later in the race, no blood was drawn here--and until this race recap no one even knew it happened. To distract myself I started counting runners going the other way to get a sense of where I stood (which I admit may have had something to do with the subsequent face plant). By the time I sloshed into the creek to soak my sore ankle in the cool water at mile 16, I estimated I was around 40th. And, my time was 3:20. Not bad, so far. PBJ, lots of water (it was getting hot) and back up the hill for 2.5 miles. Yup, it was as bad as it sounds.
Walking...Up....Hill. There's no way around it unless you are an elite ultra runner. And I even caught a few of the leaders walking stretches of this 2.5 miles. There's not much to say except it does end and there's less than 14 miles to go when you get to the top. Shortly after leaving the unofficial aide station for the second time, I realized I'd made an error in my fueling. Instead of replacing water with water in one of my handhelds, I'd replaced Gatorade with water leaving me with only water for the 3+ miles to the next station. Not a crisis by any means, but with the heat beating down, I really needed the carbs and electrolyte replenishment. A mile short of the aide station my stomach was grumbling and I was cursing my stupidity, when it occurred to me that the bump in the hand strap of my right water bottle was in fact the emergency gel I'd put there in case I needed it. Damn, I'm brilliant--eventually.
That gel was like a shot of adrenaline and I arrived at the 23-ish mile aide station feeling like I just might finish this thing. BUT, man did those chairs look inviting. Being the good volunteers they were though, no one suggested I take a seat and rest up. Instead they were full of helpful comments like, "you know you can take that cup with you as you go. If you want to start walking, away, from here, towards the finish line...now" I took the hint and left.
The three miles to the final aide station were strong. Despite the prior aide station volunteers best efforts to keep me moving, I had been able to catch my breath and eaten and hydrated well. I passed a couple runners during this stretch and even ran some of the uphills. I also re-rolled my ankle for the second of what would be three times resulting in a NSFW expletive or two.
The final 6 miles turned out to be some of the most eventful of the day. The hills were steeper than I'd recalled from the morning. I learned later from a runner 5 minutes behind me that I passed right by a rattlesnake. And, I took an epic face plant skidding across tree roots and rocks that left gashes on both thighs and an arm. All that being said, I felt relatively good during this stretch and based on the fact that I passed no one and was passed by no one, kept a good steady pace. The final 1/4 mile is among the most challenging, as you have to climb back up to the Gambrill Park Tea Room, but knowing the end is near is all the incentive you need.
I crossed the line in 7:12 (37th place out of 140). Kevin was there to hand me my CAT Card. I finished with a sense of accomplishment I had not felt since my first marathon. The Catoctin 50K lived up to its reputation. I may be back :)
The Catoctin 50K is billed as a hot, technically difficult, hilly test of human endurance (but "only" 50K). I've run 15 marathons and four 50Ks and this was the first race I ever seriously considered backing out of for fear that I would not be able to finish. The race website reads like those warnings accompanying rollercoasters--do not ride if you are pregnant, have a heart condition, are sane, wish to live to see your children grow old etc . . . But, hey, it was also billed as a small, collegial, well-run race designed for true ultra-lovers where support and camaraderie were widespread and pity given to none.
I woke at 5:00am, dressed, ate and left Washington, DC at 6:00am for the 1 hour drive to north of Frederick, Maryland to the start at Gambrill State Park (The Tea Room, to be exact). Arriving at 7:10 am (8:00 am start time), I was able to get a good parking space and access to the one bathroom before a line formed. This is a small race of only 150 runners, so any lines are short. The bib pick-up and pre-race prep is more akin to a family reunion in its casualness and familiarity. I knew no-one there, but conversation was plentiful and relaxed (denial regarding the day ahead, I suppose).
The day was surprisingly cool with temps in the high 60s to low 70s, though that would change as the morning wore on (I don't think we ever hit 90, but mid-80s by early afternoon were a thing). I collected my gear and made some final wardrobe adjustments--under armor shorts, shirt from Chicago marathon (my shirt least likely to chafe), calf compression socks, Newton Boca Sol shoes, 2 20oz hand held water bottles with one emergency gel and iphone in arm band [Note: since an earlier ultra that took 90 minutes longer to complete than I had estimated, I am formally prohibited by my wife to run ultras without some way for her to reach me].
At about 7:50am, Race Director Kevin Sayers climbed a small ladder in the middle of the parking lot and
The first 1/2 mile or so is a steep downhill that's a fun rock hop until it hits you that this is also mile 31 on the way back. Sigh. Staying in the moment, though, I found myself in the middle of the pack moving more slowly than I could have, but reminding myself that was a good thing with a long day ahead. We had about 6 miles to the first aide station roughly half downhill and half up. The runners around me were all friendly, though conversation was limited by the need to pay close attention to every step--there are very few rock-free spots on this course.
I was fast on the downhills and passed several runners I suspect who were running their first ultra or trail run and being extremely cautious on the uneven trail.
[A quick aside about expectations and pacing. I had run four 50K races before with my best finish being 5:30 at the DC Northface. I knew the Catoctin would put that race to shame from a difficulty standpoint, so was roughly calculating a 7:00 finish time, which would put me in the top 50]
At about mile 2, I was formally baptized in the cult of the Catoctin when screams cut through the forest ahead. Two runners ahead of me yelled back something about a swarm of bees and took off into the woods giving the trail a wide berth. I followed them. A runner behind me did not and was soon jumping up and down and slapping his arms. We continued to yell "look out for bees" as long as we thought runners could hear us, but still, the occasional scream followed us in the distance.
The hills are relentless and the first 6 miles are a good microcosm of the overall race featuring steep ups and downs that quickly tame any idea of pushing the pace. A kick to the gut occurred at the crest of one such hill, when after running for what seemed an hour, a small sign denoting 3 miles back to the Gambrill Tea Room can be spotted taunting runners from a tree. Only halfway to the first aide station and 28-29 miles to go (no one seems to know just how far this race actually is). Fortunately, at about mile 5 the trail levels out a bit and a smooth jog into the first aide station is possible.
Our friend, race Director Kevin, is there with words of encouragement and the occasional quip about how people used to run into the aide stations back in his day. A couple delicious PBJ squares, some water and thanks to the amazing volunteers (who only get more amazing as the race goes on) two refilled water bottles (actually filled with Gatorade) and off I went. Someone described this next 3 mile stretch as the "flat" portion of the race and I suppose if one views a Housewife of Orange County as less self-obsessed than a Kardashian, then sure this could be the flat part of the race.
There is no question this section of the trail is wider and includes forest "roads", as well as a couple sharp turns that require very careful attention to the blue blazes that mark the Catoctin Trail. I was saved twice by eagle-eyed runners just ahead of me and made a strong mental note to remember this stretch on the way back when runners were likely to be even more spread out and I could not count on following someone. I can tell you that the 2nd aide station appears our of the trees, so much sooner than one expects. More PBJ, a handful of Pringles, water, refills on Gatorade and off.
This last stretch before the turnaround is 3 miles of flat and uphill followed by 3 miles down to the creek and the turnaround. I found myself near another runner and we traded places for the next few miles smiling each time one of us passed the other knowing the opposite would likely happen again shortly. He was a little quicker on the downhills and I was faster uphill. I had finally overtaken him after a particularly rocky stretch and was enjoying the first flat, dirt-only stretch of the race at mile 13 when for no explainable reason I rolled my left ankle and went down in a heap. I got up quickly and walked a few careful steps, but then had to bend over to catch my breath and not throw up. Damn, that hurt. My friend caught up to me and asked if I was okay. I waved him on knowing I could hobble to the next aide station in a worst case scenario.
After a minute or so, I started walking and after another minute began a slow jog. My ankle was sore but seemed to be holding up and a surprise awaited me at about mile 13.5--an unofficial aide station. Armed with beer, whiskey and who knows what else, a brave band of friends to the Catoctin 50K had set up shop and were refilling water bottles and assuring runners it was all downhill from here--which it actually was.
Over 2.5 miles of downhill running was next. I would have enjoyed it more if my ankle didn't still hurt and I didn't take my first face plant of the day. Unlike the second face plant of the day which occurred much later in the race, no blood was drawn here--and until this race recap no one even knew it happened. To distract myself I started counting runners going the other way to get a sense of where I stood (which I admit may have had something to do with the subsequent face plant). By the time I sloshed into the creek to soak my sore ankle in the cool water at mile 16, I estimated I was around 40th. And, my time was 3:20. Not bad, so far. PBJ, lots of water (it was getting hot) and back up the hill for 2.5 miles. Yup, it was as bad as it sounds.
Walking...Up....Hill. There's no way around it unless you are an elite ultra runner. And I even caught a few of the leaders walking stretches of this 2.5 miles. There's not much to say except it does end and there's less than 14 miles to go when you get to the top. Shortly after leaving the unofficial aide station for the second time, I realized I'd made an error in my fueling. Instead of replacing water with water in one of my handhelds, I'd replaced Gatorade with water leaving me with only water for the 3+ miles to the next station. Not a crisis by any means, but with the heat beating down, I really needed the carbs and electrolyte replenishment. A mile short of the aide station my stomach was grumbling and I was cursing my stupidity, when it occurred to me that the bump in the hand strap of my right water bottle was in fact the emergency gel I'd put there in case I needed it. Damn, I'm brilliant--eventually.
That gel was like a shot of adrenaline and I arrived at the 23-ish mile aide station feeling like I just might finish this thing. BUT, man did those chairs look inviting. Being the good volunteers they were though, no one suggested I take a seat and rest up. Instead they were full of helpful comments like, "you know you can take that cup with you as you go. If you want to start walking, away, from here, towards the finish line...now" I took the hint and left.
The three miles to the final aide station were strong. Despite the prior aide station volunteers best efforts to keep me moving, I had been able to catch my breath and eaten and hydrated well. I passed a couple runners during this stretch and even ran some of the uphills. I also re-rolled my ankle for the second of what would be three times resulting in a NSFW expletive or two.
The final 6 miles turned out to be some of the most eventful of the day. The hills were steeper than I'd recalled from the morning. I learned later from a runner 5 minutes behind me that I passed right by a rattlesnake. And, I took an epic face plant skidding across tree roots and rocks that left gashes on both thighs and an arm. All that being said, I felt relatively good during this stretch and based on the fact that I passed no one and was passed by no one, kept a good steady pace. The final 1/4 mile is among the most challenging, as you have to climb back up to the Gambrill Park Tea Room, but knowing the end is near is all the incentive you need.
I crossed the line in 7:12 (37th place out of 140). Kevin was there to hand me my CAT Card. I finished with a sense of accomplishment I had not felt since my first marathon. The Catoctin 50K lived up to its reputation. I may be back :)
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