There are a lot of runs that rank in the maintenance miles category. Runs that you do just to get the miles and keep your head above water so to speak. Other runs though, are the kind that you logged all those previous miles to get to. The runs, not races, that you will remember for years to come.
Tonight's run ranked high on the later category. It might have only lasted less than a mile though had it not been for Keith pointing out that there was a porcupine in the trail about 20 feet in front of me. And after a brief stop to watch the little guy run off into the woods, we carried on.
The general idea I had for this run was to run the Surry loop, but branch off onto the single tracks that line the trail we've never deviated from. Even though I've never run those trails, I was sure that I could somehow manage to get down the hill to the trail that goes to Dort Rd. How hard could it be?
With the first step off the familiar jeep trail on to the single track, we were flying down hill over rolling turns and stream crossings. At each new trail juncture, we hazarded a guess as to which way to turn. Eventually we found the much heard of, but never seen, Lily Pond. After that, we followed a less traveled single track downhill towards some nice waterfall type areas. At this point the trail seemed to fade out and we weren't quite sure what to do or where to go.
Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal. We could have bushwacked our way downhill to the lake, where we were sure to find the trail I was thinking of. But it was getting late. The skies were cloudy and the forest was getting dark. Neither of us packed our headlamps, so time was of the essence. Rolls of thunder could be heard in the distance and rain drops started or occasionally graze our skin. This was not a place to be for much longer.
We decided to turn around and retrace our steps back to the last trail juncture which I was familiar with and I would be able to get us out of the woods in a reasonable amount of time. I knew the run we had to the water falls was a solid downhill effort and every step back uphill reinforced just how burly it was. As we wove our way back up to safety, the woods darkened more and the rain drops became more frequent. The thunder became louder.
Once back on the usual trail, we began our decent through muddy trail and dark forest corners. Lightning lit up the sky above and the rain became steady as the temperature dropped. The trail was pretty damn dark right now. It was time to hall ass out of the woods and get to the comforts of Gunn Rd, where we could run the roads back into town with relative ease.
Out on Gunn Road, we ran the initial downhill mile in a cold down pour. Thunder was breaking right overhead and it was somewhere in this moment that we noted how bad ass this was. Nobody else was out doing this. Keith just started laughing at one point as the sky lit up yet again. That's when I noted, this is running. This is what I signed up for. This was the real deal. We were soaked head to toe, pushing the pace to keep from getting hypothermia, and deriving joy from every moment of it. It was a solid 15 mile effort, worth every maintenance mile I've run.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Return to Form
I gave myself a solid week off after the beast that was the Bear Mountain 50 miler. In the few days after the race my body began it's recovery process and the blistered centers of the balls of my feet healed up.
Mother's Day the weather proved too damn nice not to warrant a run, so with a cautious few hundred yards, I knew my body was ready to go. I went on to log 5 sub eight miles, the final mile clocking in at 6:15. Yep, it was all good in the hood.
The rest of the week provided plenty of opportunities for some decent length runs. Wednesday night's run was just a spectacle of awesome. With the leaves starting to bloom and the scent of spring finally making it's way into the air, it was one of the most welcome times of the year. It reminded me of being a kid, ready to go outside and turn the day into anything you wanted.
The ascent up Drummer was beautiful, so much so that I ran the upper trails to the top in a fashion that I was able to summit twice. Weaving through the single track, greenery was taking hold of the old, brown leaf ground. Streams had backed off their early spring levels and made the crossings a little less wet. 10 miles later, it was time well spent in the woods.
The trails are getting good out there... really good.
Mother's Day the weather proved too damn nice not to warrant a run, so with a cautious few hundred yards, I knew my body was ready to go. I went on to log 5 sub eight miles, the final mile clocking in at 6:15. Yep, it was all good in the hood.
The rest of the week provided plenty of opportunities for some decent length runs. Wednesday night's run was just a spectacle of awesome. With the leaves starting to bloom and the scent of spring finally making it's way into the air, it was one of the most welcome times of the year. It reminded me of being a kid, ready to go outside and turn the day into anything you wanted.
The ascent up Drummer was beautiful, so much so that I ran the upper trails to the top in a fashion that I was able to summit twice. Weaving through the single track, greenery was taking hold of the old, brown leaf ground. Streams had backed off their early spring levels and made the crossings a little less wet. 10 miles later, it was time well spent in the woods.
The trails are getting good out there... really good.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
The North Face Bear Mountain 50 miler
If registering for the Bear Mountain 50 miler back in February, while in the warm sun of Florida didn't seem like a good idea, I'm not sure what would qualify as one. Coming off a winter of spotty running and a recent 50k, I felt I had enough in the pocket to get this one done.
Per usual, Keith and I loaded the car on Friday with enough gear to give the appearance of leaving for weeks on end, and headed to Bear Mountain State Park, just off the Hudson River, in New York. The race would start at 5AM the following morning, which made for a rather criminal 2:40AM wake up time. It was a little bit earlier than I prefer to wake up and run, but the grandeur of the event made it that much easier, and by 4AM we were in the mix of the event. We took care of the basic logistics of getting our bib numbers, t shirts, other associated swag, and our drop bags tagged for the aid station we wanted them to be sent to. It was about 20 minutes to go time and the hot cup of coffee in my hands was sitting well in the cool morning air.
Still dark out, we converged on the start line outfitted with head lamps and most of our essential gear for the day. After some words of encouragement from Dean Karnazes, we were unleashed unto the mountains of New York. The first few miles went back easy. Running with Keith and Cedric, we made jokes and bullshitted our way up the initial wet and muddy climbs. Wet and muddy would be a continued theme for the day as the area had just had 3 straight days of rain.
Around mile 2 or 3, Cedric backed off the pace and it was just Keith and I headed up the trails towards the now ever so faintly lit morning sky. Much like the Twin State 50k, Keith had the extra gear to grind up the hill just a bit faster. 50 miles is a long way to go and it would be imperative to run my own race. I let Keith go and settled into a rhythm with those around me. As we neared the peak and ridge line of the first climb, the views were becoming majestic. Fading darkness on the horizion outlined the surrounding mountains, while the stars were still visible directly above. The sound of train whistles echoed through the valley. I could run in that moment all day.
We head down the backside of the mountain and through the first aid station. Some people dropped off head lamps and ditched layers. I grabbed some water and kept on my way. The next several miles went by quickly. I eventually put on my ipod and enjoyed some good tunes while running up the next set of hills and ridge lines. Compared to New Hampshire, this part of New York was already well into spring with greenery blooming everywhere. After the long, hard winter we just endured, this was a welcome sight. After a few more climbs up the exceptionally rocky terrain, and a run through of the second aid station on the course, I found myself traversing a ridge with large trees, a grassy ground cover, and fantastic sun lit morning view. It looked like the kind of forest in which gnomes would live. I could also run this section all day. Despite what it demanded in technical running, the beauty of the area made it well worth the effort.
At mile 14, I finally stopped at an aid station to refill my race vest and have a few things to eat and drink. I hung out for a few minutes and I was off. This next section of trail was very much in a valley. Meandering around streams and large pine trees, it the most twisty and turny section of the race we would run. It was also the first, and thankfully only time, I took a brief detour off course with a few other people. We probably only lost a few minutes, so in the big scheme of things it wasnt a big deal.
As we rejoined the course, I run into Cedric, who I shot the shit with for a bit before he was no longer behind me.
Moving closer towards the next aid station the ground became significantly rockier. I found myself jumping from rock to rock and over streams. I was trying my best to keep my feet dry, but the course just wouldn't allow for it. Some streams you could cross via rocks of logs, other left you with no choice but to go straight though. While it does feel fantastic to soak your feet for a second in the cold stream water, running roughly 30 miles more in wet socks and shoes can lead to some pretty beat up feet.
The next aid station offered another chance to put down some food and refill my pack. After some screwing around with my pack and trying several times to put it on the right way, I'm good to go again. The next section of the trail was rather boring and involved a bit of road running into Camp Lanowa. Camp Lanowa was the mid point in the race and featured an aid station from which you would run a 5 miles loop before passing through the aid station again and then head out of camp. This was the aid station I had my drop bag sent to, but before I riffled through my gear, I decided to run the loop first. This for me was the most boring part for the race. 5 miles of not so scenic anything and some crappy trail conditions. I was happy to see the paved road that the loop merged with signifying the end of it.
I ran back into the aid station, shoveled down some of the food and soda at the tables and went to get the now very sought after drop bag. From previous races experience I learned that having a change of socks and shoes in the middle of the race was a great thing. I ran the first half of the race in my old Hokas. I could feel them becoming less and less supportive over the course of the day, as they had many miles on them and were at the end of their life. Luckily, I purchased a new pair of them the previous week and broke them in with a few days of being worn to work. I also had a brand new, never worn before, pair of compression socks to put on as well. This would be the ultimate treat for one"s self in the middle of an event like this. Oh, the luxury of dry feet and fresh shoes!
The main problem here, at least for me, was that I was pretty damn tired and sore. Bending over to try and put on a brand new pair of compression socks might have been the hardest thing I had to do all day. Every time I would reach for my feet, muscles in my hip or leg would cramp, causing me to have to retreat from the simple act of putting on socks. To make matters worse, brand new compression socks are TIGHT, with little give or elasticity. They took me at least, and this is no joke, 10 minutes to get on. If The Onion were writing a story about it, it would read: Area Man Over Comes Adversity and Puts On Socks. Armed with dry socks and new shoes, I was a new man. The bag of chocolate covered espresso beans I ate small handfuls of every so often, helped put a little pep in my step too.
The next few miles were rather uneventful. I eventually came out to a road and ran the rather steep, paved, down hill out to a main road. After crossing the road around mile 30, the group I was running with at the time was immediately greeted by the first "really freaking big hill". We shuffled our way up and enjoyed some nice cruising down hill trails for a bit before being dumped back out on a main road. Once at the main road, we needed to go up it for just under a mile. I chose to walk this section, as I was feeling pretty beat and didnt want to contend with this hill out in the heat of the day.
Once regaining the trail at the top, the next several miles were rock, mud, and water laden. Having put on dry socks and shoes at the halfway point, I was trying my best to keep my feet dry, but this course was just not going to allow for it. With the course in the condition it was, it was hard for me to keep a steady rhythm before needing to negotiate swamped out or muddy sections of the trail. It made for slow going and the miles just didn't seem to be coming as easy. I ran where I could and walked where I couldn't, forging on to the aid station at mile 40.
Coming in to the mile 40 aid station was a great relief. Just 10 more miles, what could be easier? I tried eating and drinking, but I just wasn't feeling it. I was doing it more because I knew I had to than I wanted to. Ugghh. Leaving that aid station was rough. I walked from it, trying damn hard not to lay down on the ground and sleep. I walked for almost a mile through a parking lot following two other women who were running the 50k. We passed a guy in the parking lot playing bag pipes, most likely because anyone he lived by him would kill him for playing them that loud. As I caught up with the two women, we talked for a moment before I realized I would probably need to eat more of the espresso beans in order to carry on. I took a big handful and offered some up to the ladies to which they claimed were even better than the ice cold coke back at the aid station.
It was then that I knew I had to soldier on. I started running with small baby steps. Those baby steps lead me up to another group of runners who I joined, then quickly departed. I started setting goals. Run for just one mile straight. After that it was, just run till the Garmin clicks off the next full mile. Run till the turn in the trail. Run to that hill. I put back a few miles that way, surprised at my own ability to distract myself well after my ipod battery died. There were some damn serious climbs up ahead. The sun and rain combination made for some humidity and the black flies engulfed my head. This was not the best the race had to offer. My feet were swamped and I could feel blisters growing on the balls of my feet. Running would have been so much easier without them, but the goal of the finish was so much more alluring, so I ignored them and pushed on.
With a stated 2.9 miles to go on the final aid station sandwich board, I came in with spirits high and guns blazing. A boy just out ahead of the station, who was no more than 8, was shouting things like, "Don't give up, anything is possible! You can do anything!" To which I replied, "Are you sure, because I'll never be pregnant." That roused the spirits of everyone else at the aid station and I grabbed a few last items to drink and eat.
The final few miles into the finish were rather boring. I ran alone the entire way, wondering where exactly the finish was. I couldn't hear a crowd, only the sound of trains in the distance, which Paul Simon loves... me too. GPS read outs had been off all day. EVERYONE was reporting that their watches were saying they had gone a mile further than the aid station sandwich boards were reporting as the current distances. How much more did I really need to go? All I really wanted was for the watch to click off 50 miles and my time to be under 12 hours, yet I have no idea how much further after that I would really need to go. Before long, I realize I'm running under the little over pass bridges we ran through on our way out of the start. The finish was right there. All of a sudden I could see the finish and hear the crowd. Coming into the park people were playing basketball. Kids were on swing sets and Keith was yelling my name from the sidelines as I made the final push into the finish. I crossed the line and hit stop on my watch a full 11 hours and 55 minutes since I had hit start. Distance read exactly 50.00 miles.
Post race is a wonderfully surreal experience. You still feel like you've stumbled out of a bar at 2AM, yet you're completely aware of what you've just accomplish. It was the first time in 12 hours that I allowed myself the pleasure of sitting down, and oh how grand it was. My feet were water logged and the new pair of Hokas looked like I had been running in them for months. Keith pointed out that I could walk right over to the booth where Dean Karnazes was doing a meet and greet thing, but that line looked awfully long. Sitting was king. And besides that, Keith had already done enough talking to him for the both of us.
Per usual, Keith and I loaded the car on Friday with enough gear to give the appearance of leaving for weeks on end, and headed to Bear Mountain State Park, just off the Hudson River, in New York. The race would start at 5AM the following morning, which made for a rather criminal 2:40AM wake up time. It was a little bit earlier than I prefer to wake up and run, but the grandeur of the event made it that much easier, and by 4AM we were in the mix of the event. We took care of the basic logistics of getting our bib numbers, t shirts, other associated swag, and our drop bags tagged for the aid station we wanted them to be sent to. It was about 20 minutes to go time and the hot cup of coffee in my hands was sitting well in the cool morning air.
Still dark out, we converged on the start line outfitted with head lamps and most of our essential gear for the day. After some words of encouragement from Dean Karnazes, we were unleashed unto the mountains of New York. The first few miles went back easy. Running with Keith and Cedric, we made jokes and bullshitted our way up the initial wet and muddy climbs. Wet and muddy would be a continued theme for the day as the area had just had 3 straight days of rain.
Around mile 2 or 3, Cedric backed off the pace and it was just Keith and I headed up the trails towards the now ever so faintly lit morning sky. Much like the Twin State 50k, Keith had the extra gear to grind up the hill just a bit faster. 50 miles is a long way to go and it would be imperative to run my own race. I let Keith go and settled into a rhythm with those around me. As we neared the peak and ridge line of the first climb, the views were becoming majestic. Fading darkness on the horizion outlined the surrounding mountains, while the stars were still visible directly above. The sound of train whistles echoed through the valley. I could run in that moment all day.
We head down the backside of the mountain and through the first aid station. Some people dropped off head lamps and ditched layers. I grabbed some water and kept on my way. The next several miles went by quickly. I eventually put on my ipod and enjoyed some good tunes while running up the next set of hills and ridge lines. Compared to New Hampshire, this part of New York was already well into spring with greenery blooming everywhere. After the long, hard winter we just endured, this was a welcome sight. After a few more climbs up the exceptionally rocky terrain, and a run through of the second aid station on the course, I found myself traversing a ridge with large trees, a grassy ground cover, and fantastic sun lit morning view. It looked like the kind of forest in which gnomes would live. I could also run this section all day. Despite what it demanded in technical running, the beauty of the area made it well worth the effort.
At mile 14, I finally stopped at an aid station to refill my race vest and have a few things to eat and drink. I hung out for a few minutes and I was off. This next section of trail was very much in a valley. Meandering around streams and large pine trees, it the most twisty and turny section of the race we would run. It was also the first, and thankfully only time, I took a brief detour off course with a few other people. We probably only lost a few minutes, so in the big scheme of things it wasnt a big deal.
As we rejoined the course, I run into Cedric, who I shot the shit with for a bit before he was no longer behind me.
Moving closer towards the next aid station the ground became significantly rockier. I found myself jumping from rock to rock and over streams. I was trying my best to keep my feet dry, but the course just wouldn't allow for it. Some streams you could cross via rocks of logs, other left you with no choice but to go straight though. While it does feel fantastic to soak your feet for a second in the cold stream water, running roughly 30 miles more in wet socks and shoes can lead to some pretty beat up feet.
The next aid station offered another chance to put down some food and refill my pack. After some screwing around with my pack and trying several times to put it on the right way, I'm good to go again. The next section of the trail was rather boring and involved a bit of road running into Camp Lanowa. Camp Lanowa was the mid point in the race and featured an aid station from which you would run a 5 miles loop before passing through the aid station again and then head out of camp. This was the aid station I had my drop bag sent to, but before I riffled through my gear, I decided to run the loop first. This for me was the most boring part for the race. 5 miles of not so scenic anything and some crappy trail conditions. I was happy to see the paved road that the loop merged with signifying the end of it.
I ran back into the aid station, shoveled down some of the food and soda at the tables and went to get the now very sought after drop bag. From previous races experience I learned that having a change of socks and shoes in the middle of the race was a great thing. I ran the first half of the race in my old Hokas. I could feel them becoming less and less supportive over the course of the day, as they had many miles on them and were at the end of their life. Luckily, I purchased a new pair of them the previous week and broke them in with a few days of being worn to work. I also had a brand new, never worn before, pair of compression socks to put on as well. This would be the ultimate treat for one"s self in the middle of an event like this. Oh, the luxury of dry feet and fresh shoes!
The main problem here, at least for me, was that I was pretty damn tired and sore. Bending over to try and put on a brand new pair of compression socks might have been the hardest thing I had to do all day. Every time I would reach for my feet, muscles in my hip or leg would cramp, causing me to have to retreat from the simple act of putting on socks. To make matters worse, brand new compression socks are TIGHT, with little give or elasticity. They took me at least, and this is no joke, 10 minutes to get on. If The Onion were writing a story about it, it would read: Area Man Over Comes Adversity and Puts On Socks. Armed with dry socks and new shoes, I was a new man. The bag of chocolate covered espresso beans I ate small handfuls of every so often, helped put a little pep in my step too.
The next few miles were rather uneventful. I eventually came out to a road and ran the rather steep, paved, down hill out to a main road. After crossing the road around mile 30, the group I was running with at the time was immediately greeted by the first "really freaking big hill". We shuffled our way up and enjoyed some nice cruising down hill trails for a bit before being dumped back out on a main road. Once at the main road, we needed to go up it for just under a mile. I chose to walk this section, as I was feeling pretty beat and didnt want to contend with this hill out in the heat of the day.
Once regaining the trail at the top, the next several miles were rock, mud, and water laden. Having put on dry socks and shoes at the halfway point, I was trying my best to keep my feet dry, but this course was just not going to allow for it. With the course in the condition it was, it was hard for me to keep a steady rhythm before needing to negotiate swamped out or muddy sections of the trail. It made for slow going and the miles just didn't seem to be coming as easy. I ran where I could and walked where I couldn't, forging on to the aid station at mile 40.
Coming in to the mile 40 aid station was a great relief. Just 10 more miles, what could be easier? I tried eating and drinking, but I just wasn't feeling it. I was doing it more because I knew I had to than I wanted to. Ugghh. Leaving that aid station was rough. I walked from it, trying damn hard not to lay down on the ground and sleep. I walked for almost a mile through a parking lot following two other women who were running the 50k. We passed a guy in the parking lot playing bag pipes, most likely because anyone he lived by him would kill him for playing them that loud. As I caught up with the two women, we talked for a moment before I realized I would probably need to eat more of the espresso beans in order to carry on. I took a big handful and offered some up to the ladies to which they claimed were even better than the ice cold coke back at the aid station.
It was then that I knew I had to soldier on. I started running with small baby steps. Those baby steps lead me up to another group of runners who I joined, then quickly departed. I started setting goals. Run for just one mile straight. After that it was, just run till the Garmin clicks off the next full mile. Run till the turn in the trail. Run to that hill. I put back a few miles that way, surprised at my own ability to distract myself well after my ipod battery died. There were some damn serious climbs up ahead. The sun and rain combination made for some humidity and the black flies engulfed my head. This was not the best the race had to offer. My feet were swamped and I could feel blisters growing on the balls of my feet. Running would have been so much easier without them, but the goal of the finish was so much more alluring, so I ignored them and pushed on.
With a stated 2.9 miles to go on the final aid station sandwich board, I came in with spirits high and guns blazing. A boy just out ahead of the station, who was no more than 8, was shouting things like, "Don't give up, anything is possible! You can do anything!" To which I replied, "Are you sure, because I'll never be pregnant." That roused the spirits of everyone else at the aid station and I grabbed a few last items to drink and eat.
The final few miles into the finish were rather boring. I ran alone the entire way, wondering where exactly the finish was. I couldn't hear a crowd, only the sound of trains in the distance, which Paul Simon loves... me too. GPS read outs had been off all day. EVERYONE was reporting that their watches were saying they had gone a mile further than the aid station sandwich boards were reporting as the current distances. How much more did I really need to go? All I really wanted was for the watch to click off 50 miles and my time to be under 12 hours, yet I have no idea how much further after that I would really need to go. Before long, I realize I'm running under the little over pass bridges we ran through on our way out of the start. The finish was right there. All of a sudden I could see the finish and hear the crowd. Coming into the park people were playing basketball. Kids were on swing sets and Keith was yelling my name from the sidelines as I made the final push into the finish. I crossed the line and hit stop on my watch a full 11 hours and 55 minutes since I had hit start. Distance read exactly 50.00 miles.
Post race is a wonderfully surreal experience. You still feel like you've stumbled out of a bar at 2AM, yet you're completely aware of what you've just accomplish. It was the first time in 12 hours that I allowed myself the pleasure of sitting down, and oh how grand it was. My feet were water logged and the new pair of Hokas looked like I had been running in them for months. Keith pointed out that I could walk right over to the booth where Dean Karnazes was doing a meet and greet thing, but that line looked awfully long. Sitting was king. And besides that, Keith had already done enough talking to him for the both of us.
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