The Elephant and the Rider

Susquehanna Super Hike and Trail Run (SSH)

My friends know I subscribe to the motto, “Go big or go home”. If that is so, then why no blog posts or races all summer? Well. . a two week Alaska cruise boat trip to celebrate my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary threw off my July/August race planning, not to mention adherence to any kind of diet!

Even though I did manage a 15 miler along the coastline of Anchorage, an 8 mile trail run above Skagway, and a few runs around the ship deck track, I could not pretend to possess running fitness to offset my cruise induced body fat entering the month of September.

However, my cousin’s September 11th wedding in Towson, MD opened up a Saturday prompting me to investigate any nearby races, and therefore I discovered the “SSH”. The website read, “For 28.4 miles the Susquehanna Super Hike & Ultra Trail Run course follows the blue-blazed Mason Dixon Trail on the west shore of the Susquehanna River and the orange-blazed Conestoga Trail on the east shore. The trails in this area are renowned for their beautiful scenery and their strenuousness.

Hhmmnnn, the rider in my head convinced the elephant that is my body that this was an opportunity not to be missed. As I registered on the website, I reviewed some finishing times from the prior year. Six hours on average, not too scary, however, what I did not know was that those times were before the course was lengthened from 25 to 28.4 miles this year to qualify as an “ultra” not to mention add in climbs the last 10K.

But “Go big or go home”, noted my elephant rider in my brain, so I adopted the plan that worked at GEER 2009, run the flats and the downhills and walk hike the ups. With a 7am start and a 5pm wedding in Towson, MD, 75 minutes south, I figured I had to leave the finish for Towson no later than 2:30 to drive south 75 minutes per MapQuest, rehydrate, check into my hotel, hobble into a shower and s suit and find the church by 5pm. Therefore my math stated I had to finish by 2pm or seven hours from the start. My rider chortled that for 28.4 miles, or just 2 miles more than a marathon, even with an out of shape elephant body how tough could this be?

Friday September, 10, Pre-race
So, Friday September 10th, I secured the family at LBI for a weekend at the shore house. After a solid dinner at Kubels in Barnegat Light, I set off for the 3 hour drive to Carroll Manor north of Baltimore to crib up at the house of my GEER pacer, Paul. Arriving at 10pm, I caught up with Paul and Jen who I learned is pregnant with twins. Wow! Before I knew it, the 4:30am wakeup call and a 75 minute drive to the Pequa Campground in Pequa, PA found me at 6am on the shores of the Susquehanna River just north of RT 1 and the Holtwood Dam. From there my plan dictated to park and take a shuttle 30 minutes to the race start on the western side of the river, so my car would be ready for me at the finish line.

On the shuttle bus, I met an ultra hiker Carol Javes from Philly. She was nervous about finishing the course having hiked ten miles of the course the month before with a guided group. Her attestations of the difficulty of the trail prompted me to respect the distance and appreciate the challenges just to finish. As you know, I have never not finished a race! (As it turns out, darkness at 7pm prompts Carol to drop within 2 miles of the finish.)

In the 6:30 am near dawn we arrive at the Otter Creek Campground for the start. As the sun rose, it signaled the start of a glorious day to be out on the trails. The rider in my head reveled in the euphoric feeling that anything is possible today. My rider trumpeted with the other riders what a wonderful feeling we are sharing forcing so many other elephants all out here in the dawn half light. This is WORTH the pain to come, and how silly it would have been to stay buried under covers in a warm bed!

I am nervous, but excited, and full of energy not knowing what the day will bring out in the woods. Looking around, the field is solidly half trail runners and half hikers. Runners were dressed in shorts, and technical shirts, some with Moomba arm sleeves and all with hand held water bottles or hydration systems. The hikers sported light weight tops, pocked khaki shorts, walking sticks, and Camelbacks. With the temps to reach 80 degrees, fuel and water is as critical as stamina. I sported a 24 oz perpetuem bottle, and a 24 oz water/Gatorade bottle, one in each hand, and yes my 2xu compression tri shorts and calf guards.

Whether runner or hiker, the 12 hour time limit or 7pm would govern all entrants. I caught snippets from other runners that the first half was “runnable” and the second half was not runnable, and in training runs parts of the trail is not even hikeable. What? What does not hikeable even mean? Yes, you are traversing boulders and descending chutes to creeks! Yikes! My elephant is not amused.

Start (Otter Creek Campground) to Checkpoint 1 (SGL 181), 0-9.5 miles
The start of the course circled the camp then ascended an old logging road through the State Game Lands. Crossing the bridge over Otter Creek we followed Kline Road for a half mile, and then found the blue-blazed Mason-Dixon Trail. We followed the contour of the hill before descending to the Otter Creek. With many trail intersections crossing the Mason Dixon Trail, not getting lost and increasing your distance would be vitally important all day!! Thus, I attached myself to a string of younger runners as the trail descended through the woods across Otter Creek and then climbs steeply uphill by large switchbacks. Back across Rt. 425 we followed another logging road to ascend to the Urey Overlook and a beautiful vista of the Susquehanna. This would become the Groundhog Day cycle of the journey we would climb to a beautiful vista, and then violently descend by switchbacks, to cross streams. Then like Bill Murray each morning, repeat the process, over and over and over.

But as of now, all system were go, I was in my running zone, breathing the clean woodsy air, feeling good, keeping up with the group, but holding back. The uphills were walked briskly, while some of the others chewed up their legs running up. Our string is led by two young girls in their 20s, Lauren and Caitlin. Both had recently finished the York, PA marathon and were undertaking their first “trail” run. Their pace was surprisingly quick. I had to decide whether to stick with them for ego or let them go ahead and assume they would blow up later. The egos of the other young bucks were also being tested. Male egos prevailed and we continued jamming the downhills, stream crossing, and up the switchbacks.

The girls kept up the pace and I knew we were well ahead of my schedule of a 7 hour finish. The trail blazes were decent, but the fear of being lost or off trail was omni-present as I did not want to endure any extra climbing. I had 5pm scheduled nuptials to attend!! We crossed the creek (on a bridge for once) and then passed back through the Otter Creek Campground at mile 5. The girls led the group out of the way to the left and I took a shortcut to pass them all and descend to Sawmill Run. At the stream cross I spied a runner on the far shore climbing up boulders. I short cut off the trail and streamed across the water and straight up the boulders to rejoin the trail, saving perhaps 100 yards or so of rocky trail to climb. As I scrambled up and over the rocks, I looked back down and saw the string just entering the crossing. I hit the gas to disappear from the group up the trail until of course the switchbacks up to Sawmill Run Road slowed me to a walk

After the trail climbed out of the hollow, I got slightly lost before hitting the roads. As I got reoriented on the road, the string took advantage of my poor trailblazing to close the gap and on pavement many of the youngsters just took off, including the girls. I reeled several back in on the downhill of Posey Road, and I knew we were close to the first checkpoint at 9.9 miles. No watch timing for me, but was told it was 8:40am or 100 minutes in, 9:35 pace and I was in 50th place overall. Solid, with the walks factored in.

Checkpoint 1 (SGL 181 Lot) to Checkpoint 2 (Lock 12), 9.5-15.5 miles
I prepared a new Perpetuem fuel bottle, had my water bottle refilled, and noshed on some pretzels. I observed the bloody arms and legs belonging to one of the girls, Caitlin Pettit. She was getting bandaged up, but her rider firmly in charge of her elephant, determined to carry on. Gotta respect that! Not a lot I could do, so I hustled out of aid #1 ahead of most of the string and down a long grassy stretch of land mirroring the scene out of Little House on the Prairie as Laura romps down the grassland with her dog.

Entering Oakland Run the sun shadows of midmorning accentuated the natural beauty of the stream. I soaked it in as I ascended to a large rock outcrop. The steepness of the climb followed by a mean descent (again!) was forgiven due to the sights and sounds created by the cascades and deep pools along the run which was a highlight of the day.

Following the river through lowland trails and roads the views of the Holtwood Dam were equally powerful. Just beyond the dam, I ran right through the foundation of an old hotel and gradually climbed up to a power line vista with even better views of the river and Holtwood Dam. Up, up, up the steep switchbacks to the top of the ridge. Here I spied the remnants of our string of runners below that I had left behind at aid #1. Just 12 miles in, my legs were already severely beaten up. My rider knowing full well that mental toughness and focus with proper nutrition and hydration are the keys to success still managed my elephant that would prefer to stop, rest, and recover in the shade with a cold drink and a ride to the finish. My rider also knows this is where my Ironman and trail experience evidenced itself. “Hey Tim!” No time to gloat now! Let’s move this elephant!

So after the wicked climb, I hurried down the trail descended steeply by switchbacks to Mill Creek. I followed downstream to River Road passing a nice waterfall along the way. Man the scenery is incredible! Circling behind a large mill foundation I followed a towpath for the old Susquehanna and Tidewater Canal to the restored Lock 12 to permit boats to navigate the rocks upriver to York, and Harrisburg. Then across a small bridge I arrived at Checkpoint 2 at 15.5 miles, over halfway home in three hours flat.

Checkpoint 2 (Lock 12) Checkpoint 3 (Pinnacle Overlook), 15.5-21.5 miles
Stopping to regroup, I was told I was in 55th place. However, the day was getting hot, my legs were trashed, and from what I had been told the “runnable trail portion of SSH was behind me. As I exited from Checkpoint 2, my rider was still in charge and I admired a bandaged Caitlin and Lauren entering aid 2. These trail girls are tough! I ran onto the Rt. 372 Norman Wood Bridge over the Susquehanna River to head upriver to the Pequa finish 13 miles away. Ok, four hours to run 13 miles? My half marathon PR in Philly nine years ago was just over 90 minutes. And I have four hours to make it!? And pavement running? It’s a lock! Cake baby! However, as I ran/shuffled onto the bridge, my trashed legs forced my rider to reconsider the folly of continuing this insanity. Within the provided directions, (that had sweat deteriorated in my pocket btw), “stay on the left side of the bridge and run/walk in single file.” Walk on a paved road? Maybe for wussies, says my rider, but when it is mile 16 and the road is basically two miles straight uphill my elephant wins and Okayed my body to power walk.

Five seasoned trail runners came up on me during this stretch, but I stuck to my elephantine walk, steeling myself for the trail and bouldering that I had been warned about. A left on Crystal Drive (uphill!) and then I entered the Holtwood Recreation Park looking for orange blazes. With only park going families, I felt like I was on a scavenger hunt. Just beyond the bathrooms, I found an orange blaze and the entrance to the Kelly's Run Trail and the descent to Kelly's Run, another highlight featuring water, rocks, hemlocks and rhododendron.

A long hill up to an unsightly gas pipeline was tempered by views across the river. I got lost AGAIN!@,. but backtracked 400 yards and rejoined two young guys from the Otter Creek string up a narrow ridge trail my elephant convienently ignored. As we continue hiking to top of hill to join an old wagon road, I was out of water and ready for aid #3. One of the string guys I came upon looked pale, and I offered him food. He said no, he needed water with it and had not in fact eaten in miles due to lack of water. He was in a full fuel bonk and his elephant decided to suddenly stop, bend over, and dry heave. I encouraged him to walk with me as aid was near. He looked up glassy eyed and sat down, I knew better than to try and move a seated elephant. I did promise to send someone back from Aid #3 with water and food.

Sure enough within 300 yards, I reached Pinnacle Vista with stunning views of the river and Checkpoint 3. After notifying aid to assist the fallen runner, I refueled, readying myself for the final leg, but not before pausing to revel in the view back up the river to all the shoreline I had traversed in the last 4.5 hours. This is what feeling alive is! The clipboard lady told me I was in 59th place of 400 starters. Solid. Surely I could go 7.7 miles in two and a half hours to meet my seven hour goal, right, elephant?

Checkpoint 3 (Pinnacle Overlook) to Finish (Pequea), 21.5-28.4 miles
On the shuttle bus, several runners warned me that the segment between Pinnacle Overlook and Wind Cave is the most strenuous but most rewarding of the SSH. Just below Pinnacle Overlook, I passed Lower Rock Vista with incredible views of the Susquehanna and then descended so steeply I had to grab branches and roots to avoid pin wheeling. My rider was dealing with quads that were shot, and now my left hamstring joined in the complaining so badly I had to straddle to cross a fallen tree. Going downhill, I resorted to descending crablike sideways, a mild compromise to my quads and hammys.

Eventually passing a rock overhang, and I heard several runners coming up my back door. Why it’s none other than Caitlin and Lauren. My rider perked up and convinced my elephant to march. We three reached the railroad tracks and turned right up the gorgeous Tucquan Creek, a nature preserve and another jewel of the SSH. The trail eventually climbed out of Tucquan Run, then descended to Reed Run. Up and down, up and down we climbed, out of Reed Run and descended to Brubaker Run. Climbing up my heart rate would max out to the point I had to all but stop and sit down, then we would scream down the next descend, hanging on to roots, rocks, branches to avoid falling or worse pinwheels off trail into the river. Why am I doing this again rider? The three of us stayed close together, with the girls outrunning me down the hills, and me catching them on the ups as Lauren would stop to regroup.

At the House Rock Vista we had to actually climb up over rock formations, and jump rock to rock for a descent to House Rock Run. My body screamed to my brain “This has to end!” My brain would convince my body that at the bottom of this hill the trail will flatten out along the creek for a spell. But every time at the bottom, no rest was afforded as the trail then climb even steeper than before to the next top. Then only to once again descend, insanely repeating the same outcome while my brasin desperately clung to the hope that this time would be different.

Finally we descended to the entrance to Wind Cave, one of the largest tectonic caves (formed by the movement of masses of bedrock) in the east US. Everything hurt, my legs were cramping, and the elephant swore to NEVER, EVER, do this race again. Finishing in seven hours did not matter. In fact, who cares about finishing . . .the only thing keeping me moving was knowing the only way out was to follow the trail. My physical self hurt to the core. I was wet, out of water, out of breath, cramped up and down my legs. However, my rider would note that everyone was suffering in their own SSH hell. I actually passed several stopped runners and even though I was moving several passed me by.

Near the top of a hill, I came upon Lauren stopped and bent over and dry heaving. I encouraged her and expected to see glass. However, as she looked at me in the eyes. I saw the fire was still burning. My rider commanded hers to get up and move, and her elephant did. Up ahead on the trail waiting for her, I spied Caitlin, bandages and all. As Lauren rose and moved, Caitlin pranced off like a gazelle. Her friend was still in the game. Damn those young gazelle legs!@ noted my old elephant ones.

In supreme survival mode after more than six hours + on the trails, I finally crossed a stream at an old springhouse and began a short climb not knowing it would be the last one. But at the top two local walkers told me that it was all downhill and paved from here in. I told them if they were lying I would find where they live, but they were right! I crossed two paved roads and continued through woods searching for the village of Pequea. Here I came across a concerned man asking if I had seen a girl named Lauren. Lauren’s boyfriend, who after seeing Caitlin rip by, was desperate to shepherd Lauren home. I assured him Lauren was close behind and in return he provided me crucial directions.

For, at the next intersection, I now knew to search for a sharp right turn towards a bridge but not over it., but right onto a small unpaved road at the Pequea Boat Club. Many runners including Caitlin missed this turn, allowing me to finish several spots ahead. Imagine the despair being lost at mile 27 after the hell we have endured!

Finish (Pequea Campground) 28.4 miles
I followed the unpaved road along Pequea Creek, lined with cottages for just under a mile. As I entered the Pequea Creek Campground, my elephant ears heard the applause ahead harkening my arrival. The clock read 6:53:55, and I came in 62nd out of 327 finishers and over 400 starters. Sub seven hours. I had made it. I stumbled around looking for my car I had parked in the dark 8 hours ago. After driving to Towson, rush checking into my hotel, suiting up and walking into the wedding, my rider signaled the elephant to smile. I saw my mom, sister, and brother in law and saw my dad check his watch. It read 4:50pm. In my pew with ten minutes to spare. Man I was so hungry I could eat an elephant!

Headbangers Unite

Thanks to 8 year old Teresa White for these Mile 1 action pics!

Runners say “Running feels good allowing you to clear your head”

Non-runners say “It feels better and your head clears when you decide to stop banging it against a wall!"

The President’s Cup is the most popular 5K race in the central New Jersey region evidenced by its 1500 entrants. Downtown Milburn, and the NJ’s Sneaker Factory put on a great race complete with mat timing and the use of the new sneaker timing tape system. The double loop course excels for fans’ runner viewing, and the Sam Adams beer truck serves fans' imbibing the brewing.

Superhero’s Marguerite White is the catalyst for this race. My calendar scan yield a big blank spot on Monday nite for a 8:30pm race start. Marguerite rallys her husband Jim to chauffer and wrangle her kids along as our “Crew”. She also cajoles one of the R2C15 crew, Jill to enter too.

Race Night

I change at home, grab a couple of gels and a water and am picked up. We arrive at 8pm and weave through the crowds to secure our race numbers and timing plastic sticker. My only concern is Marguerite knows every 5th person and stops to chat and we need timing stickers and to get ready. Several runners from the recent lullemon Summit, NJ focus group are running, Kristen and Jennifer, and we wish them well! Relax Tim this is a 5K! We secure our numbers and it is time to line up. No stretching, no port-o-let, no transition zone set up. Pre-race is easy peesey lemon squeezy.

We line up at 8:25pm a couple of hundred in and find Jill, along with several of Jim’s high school buddies. Jill and Marguerite are calm and ready to run, waiting for the gun.

Then we spot her. She is sporting a white revealing jog bra, mini shorts, track shoes, tatts and impossibly chisled tan curves glistening in pre race sweat on a body 12 years our junior. “Her” is the local CROSS FIT instructor Karianne. My R2c15 girls, want to take her down run her down and show her who's boss. Meaning show her that kids, jobs, and mothering does not slow you down. Game on!

1st Loop

At the gun we are off, like cars on the Garden State Parkway headed down the shore on a holiday weekend. Everyone is in a hurry, cutting off each other and running on top of each other. Karianne hits the grass shoulder and I follow. We pass the crowds on the shoulder and sidewalk and cut the corners.

My mouth feels like a desert already, not a great signal for the next 20 minutes of suffering on a humid night! The first mile circles through downtown Milburn and is slightly uphill. The effort is taxing and I stay on the edge of the throng as K and I slide by slowing runners. We hit mile 1 at 6:55 clock time which is great considering the traffic and 15 second delay tyo cross the start. We fly past the start a second time and I spot Jim, Henry, and Teresa White and give a yell out. The runners have thinned out and we are paced up at our sustainable 5K efforts.

2nd Loop

I am pushing to max pace and my dried out mouth and pounding head implore me to stop. Instead I push a bit more and pass runners. The leaders are running at us after the High School turnaround. Their turnover and stride length are greater than mine, but my effort rivals theirs. I pick the shortest lines and circle the school to head back downtown

We hit mile 2 at 13:45 so we are maintaining 6:50 pace in the heat. Now is the time in the 5K where you have to dig. Dig deep. The head is pounding on the wall and you still have 8 minutes of pain to go. Everything says slow down breathe and recover, but you can’t. No one around you is slowing down and all are gauging the others for strength or weakness from their own world of hurt.

Heading up the hill I push beyond my current effort to new levels of hurt and power up the hill. The look on the faces around are those of defeat. They do not match my effort and let me go. I crest the hill and am gassed. I come up on a fading young 14 year old kid is on my right. Tim, "Bluff strength and pass right by his cross country ass". My aging plant needs more oxygen then I am capable of providing. My body hates me right now. Why do this again? “I hear the non-runner chanting."

The kid and I come up on four guys that are also at the limit. I look at the kid, Tyler from Short Hills, as my heart is pounding through my chest. We start down the hill toward the finish and pass the 1 mile clock a second time, this time reading 19:50. We are close to the finish but not that close. I strain to see the end and hear the crowds at the beer truck. I floor it and drop Tyler and the four guys. I am sprinting alone in a wide gap and on fumes in 100% oxygen debt now. I hit the start line and the beer truck at max effort and start to slow down.

A course guy screams keep going, The finish is still another 100 meters! When will this end? My body hates me so much now. Just past the finish mat I hit the brakes and bend over. Here comes the dry heaves now. I wait to see if they will become wet heaves. They do not. I spy the clock. 21:42. A start adjusted 21:26 or 6:54 pace. My body recovers as I walk through the chute. I start to feel better as my heart rate comes down and I glisten with wet sweat.

So non-runners always want to know, “So you feel better bnow that you stopped running, right? "Well, yes but" . . .”But why?” they say. I try and explain that the feeling of your brain processing an overload of endorphins but this is always undescribable to them. The best I can offer is the comparison to the initial sensation in your head as you are drinking an icy Corona on Playa del Carmen in 95 degree heat.

This is the feeling that non runners cannot fathom. Physically you feel enpowered. Mentally you know you left nothing on the table. Sure, each race you may be older and slower, but when you give it everything, you achieve “That feeling”.

This is what makes 5Ks so awesome. Sure 246 runners finished ahead of me. Sure I finished ahead of 1200+ other runners. That is food for the ego, but it is pure junk food unless you have given 100% to achieve that result. Only you know if you give it all or not.

This is what defines “racing” versus a “non-racer runner”. The feelings of pain and suffering are what makes the after race result that much more special. As I leave the water table and turn around, I spot Karianne coming toward the table behind me meaning she has come in behind me. I cannot wait to share the news with Jill and Marguerite.

A Post Race Party

The DJ is spinning and the beer truck is flowing. Runners are pouring in and the Sams Summer Ale is being calorie processed before it hits my belly. The White kids are hanging tough and we post race in Charlie Browns with Patron Margueritas. (Get it?) as finishers continue to pore in.

Headbangers, keep on bangin!!

BEEP BEEP!!

Roadrunner, “BEEP BEEP”, the coyote after you.

Roadrunner, “BEEP BEEP”, if he catches you you’re through!

Ever get that feeling that the faster you try and go, the farther you fall behind? You cannot stop for if you do then your world comes crashing down around you. When did living life become a race for life?

We all have work, housing, cars, bills, repairs, family commitments, some kids and their needs and activities too. You try and solve problems as they arise, satisfy needs, but is there ever enough money to lubricate all life’s squeaking parts!

We runners know why we are attracted to the sport. For a brief time, on roads or trails, your focus is on you. Sure, the outdoor air, weather, etc. But I mean you must focus on your body’s immediate needs; fuel, hydration, cooling, breathing, muscular discomfort. Granted your mind can also explore life’s problems, considering alternatives and solutions, but eventually you need to refocus on your physical needs as the miles accrue or you up you pace. Running forces you to focus on you, running's siren song!

So, am out to dinner on April 30th, prior to the New Jersey Marathon, two of my R2C14 crew, Jim and Marguerite mention they are signed up for the Superhero Half Marathon. The race is staged in nearby Loantoka Park, Morris Twp, NJ and to benefit Christopher Reeve’s Foundation, (Get it?)

Race Day

Sunday morning May 16th is a speedy 7:15 am departure with Jim and Marguerite to park and speed walk to the starting line ready to go for an 8:30 start. Wow! It is crowded with over 1000 runners and another 300 relayers! This relay business is getting quite popular!
The temps are low 60s, quite a contrast from the marathon two weeks ago. My race strategy is to start slow and comfortable for 2-3 miles then see where I am at legs and cardio wise post marathon death march two weeks ago.

1st Loop

The three of us line up and start off together a few hundred back from the start line. Jim is just getting back into the swing after a bout with plantar fascia, and Marguerite has been cross training but not running much distance. However, both always run with passion and will run all out full throttle, beep beep. There goes the gun. During mile 1 I find myself trying to rein both of them in to a non-blow up 8:10 1st mile pace.

After the initial post start jockeying through the narrow neighborhood lane, the field spreads out onto Woodland Avenue. I am chitchatting with Marguerite and Jim is right behind. Marguerite is excited about her new job at Lululemon after a ten year private sector hiatus to work at raising her boy and girl. She is full of hope and the prospects for a life beyond her current one of mothering housewife extraordinaire.

I share with her some details from my 2003 accident and how the experience changed my outlook on life. She encourages me to write about the experience more deeply, and someday I will. Of course I need to reserve the film rights so when I appear at Kona, I can be one of those Ironman special interest stories!

We turn off Woodland Ave onto Kitchell Pond Rd and duck onto the local Patriot Path trails in Loantoka. We cross mile 2 together a shade over 16 minutes or 8 min pace. Ok, Marguerite and Jim are settled in. Let’s do a system’s check, feet, legs and hips- good. Breathing- relaxed. Stamina- solid. Let’s open this baby up a little bit.

I recall the last time I tried to run fast. Save a couple of 5K’s last summer, I must go back to the 2007 Cherry Blossom when I last ran fast for more than a 5K. I study the lines on the curvy path and hit the gas. Two, six, ten, twenty, I pass. My heart rate rises into the 150s. Approaching mile 4, I leave the trail and I am in the 160s. I am revving my aging plant toward the red zone. Hey there is “Steve Davenport, out rooting for his wife Anne” The Davenports live up the street and host a killer 4th of July party we must hit one of these times!

I hit the only hill on the course pitching up onto Spring Valley Road to circle back to the start in McGinty Park. I am redlining and I power walk the top of the hill to regroup and Hammer a Gel. The heart rate drops quickly enough to resume pace. I am moving along at pace and passing runners through to mile 6 and right on my redline. My brain works on excuses to slow down. Should I stop and pee? Yes, I can afford 30 seconds to bring my heart rate down and lighten the load by 16ozs, I reason with myself. I lose position on ten runners or so but am back in my prior spot as I cross the 1st loop in 52 minutes for the 6.6 miles. A decent 7:50 pace considering the slower start and the pee break, meaning I have been running about 7:35s. Now can I keep that up for another 6 miles?

2nd Loop

I am pushing to max pace through the neighborhoods for a second time. I pass and focus 100% on my breathing and relaxing my shoulders, arms, and run over my core, not side to side.
Once you can run 8 minute pace, the key to getting roadrunner speed is not ability, stride length, or power. but efficiency and turnover. The fastest runners can turnover 90 steps a minute, whereas most are stuck in the 65-75 range. The extra 15 to 25 steps is what makes them fast. That, and not wasting energy on clenched faces, fists, or sideways balance readjustments.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My mind is in the moment. I tune into what I can do to keep my turnover as high as possible. I am on the redline, and have to stay here for another five miles. It hurts, but it is a good hurt, knowing that I will be rewarded with a sub 8 minute per mile time at the end.

I hit the trail again and continue to pass runners taking the most efficient lines through the corners. I am gassed but maintain I come up on two young males that are cruising along at my pace. I tag behind and draft off them for a spell to recover. Just like in bike racing, running directly behind someone can be 7-10% more efficient than solo. Another way to look at it is you can maintain equal pace but with 10% less effort allowing some recovery. As I am redlined that is my hope.

After 5 minutes the guys are getting annoyed with me on their heels and make room for me to pass. I reluctantly do so. We hit the hill up to Spring Valley Road and as I walk the top again to re gel, they pass me by. I am envious of their youth, but at the same time I am pleased that I am competing with them. I am hammering down Spring Valley, keeping up with younger fit runners. By now we are “paced up”. Meaning everyone is at redline and no passing is happening except for the isolated blowup as a runner “pops” or fades back to a jogging pace.

At mile 11 the hurt is more acute. At Mile 12, my brain is screaming stop and I reason with it that we have under 8 minutes of suffering left! Here I get passed by a 42 year old gal dressed up as Wonder Woman. That is OK. Then her husband my age also passes me. Now that is not OK!

As we enter the finishing stretch crowds I let it out and pass him. He counters and passes back. I surge one more time and put him behind me with my sights now set on his Lynda Carter. My lungs are screaming and my body hurts. As I approach the tape he edges me out. I guess this guy loves Wonder Woman wifey. Oh, well, I finish in 146th instead of 145th out of 1008 starters. My tape time is 1:42 flat, which equates to a 1:41:30 race time or a 7:45 race pace.

A Speedy Post Race

As I recover, Marguerite and Jim finish within a minute of each other, both sub 1:55. We grabbed a post race photo op, a bagel and are quickly back to the car as finishers continue to pore in. I would enjoy to stay but the race of life is not over!

We arrive home at11am or less than 4 hours door to door from our departure that morning. Pretty speedy, McCready! We are not the only neighbors that are fast. I receive a FB notice that Angelica B. also ran and came in 148th place or 15 seconds behind me. As we shared both identical 1st loop split times of 52 minutes and second loop 49:30s negative splits she was chasing me . I feel bad referring to her as my Wile E. but apparently she was on my feathers the whole race!

Back in the race of life, I managed a quick shower than sped off with all three kids for a noon rock climbing birthday party followed by the Castle playground and a neighborhood scooter. Gotta keep all those moving parts moving!

BEEP BEEP!!

Faith, Heat, and Revelation at the New Jersey Marathon

Question: When is running a marathon considered plan C?
Answer: When you bail on Plan A the inaugural Ironman St Georges in Utah, and then also Plan B the 50K Capon Trail run in West Virginia to stay close to home.

So Plan C is to run the easy New Jersey Marathon, the renamed Long Branch Marathon, north of Asbury Park, and south of Red Bank an hour 10 from Chatham. The two-loop, flat, fast, course starts along the Atlantic Ocean boardwalk in Long Branch and then loops through Oceanside, Long Branch and parts of Deal before returning to the beach. Nevertheless, any marathon is a hellish undertaking and finishing cannot be ensured on faith alone can it? To elect to toe the starting line at a marathon is a powerful statement on your fitness, health and confidence and in yourself. And on this day the gods of weather turned up the heat throughout the day for us marathon heathens to endure.

In my opinion, the New Jersey Marathon is a glorified half marathon as the field is comprised of 6500 half runners, 2000 relay runners, and fewer than 1600 of us cavaliers electing to ignore the weather decree that today is to be the hottest, most humid temps in 2010. Couple that with the race directors scheduling a late 9am start, maybe ideal for a half, but hellish for the whole. In Florida, 92 temp and 89% humidity is why Miami, Gasparella, & Disney races start at 6am!

I attend the Race Expo briefly on Friday April 30th and score new Asics for Heather’s Mother’s Day present, and a Bondiband for me (see Superhero half photos). The Bondiband booth is run by none other than the newly anointed half Ironman finisher Healthy Ashley from CROOM fame. Way to go girl!

Throughout spring 2010, my running form has been coming along as the gods had decreed unseasonably cold weather throughout NJ. However, on May 2nd waking up at 6am and hopping in my car for the hour ride down the shore, the temp reads 75 degrees already. The gods must be crazy. Perhaps just annoyed that I had not attended service since Christma? Instead I elect to worship my body as evidenced by shedding 15 lbs and gaining back a level of fitness. Negative karma #1.

I drive through beautiful Deal, NJ’s million dollar beach homes and park near the start. Hide my key and discover all my Hammer fuel gels are back at home. Bad Karma point #2. Come on, I’ve already cancelled IM this spring, and even a travel ultra race I deserve something good here! I am owed a break for settling for a C level Race, right?

AS I fret and sulk about mounting bad race karma, 100 miles north the entire world has shattered for a local ultra friend and role model of mine. John is a dynamic 43 year old father of three and eight time Ironman finisher, including Kona in 2008. A month ago he was diagnosed with acute myelomic leukemia. He has successfully completed his first round of chemo but trivialities such as fretting about karma and a road race would be an awesome problem to face right now. I pause and consider, “How to control the uncontrollable?” “How fair is it that you live a prosperous healthy lifestyle and still face roadblocks that could not just set you back but kill you?” “Better yet, what to do about it?”

The Arab word Inshallah is one of the most common expressions, or verbal appendages, in their world that means "God willing," or "if God wills it." When you live a healthy lifestyle and still your life is hanging in the balance, Inshallah is it. What can you do beyond that?
Only prayer, hope, and humility can be proffered to the gods to intervene on your behalf. You cannot control anything. Now you must trust others. You must believe in their abilities, and beyond people you must use your most powerful tool. That unscientific, unverifiable, ethereal, concept known as faith. People talk about faith a lot. Joel Osteen has gotten rich talking about it every Sunday morning. For me faith is a belief that the end results will be the appropriate ones as long as you trust in your faith. Not one specified by a religious concept but faith that all spirits have checks and balances and how you live your life impacts that likelihood for the best determined outcome.

When facing adversity, losing faith and doubting the likelihood for a positive potential outcome is easy. Keeping the faith without any ongoing positive indicators that by doing good you are banking karmic points is an incredible challenge. John has faith but can easily lose that faith. He is reminded to keep it from the over 4500 times visitors have checked in on him at his Caring Bridge website in the last three weeks. (Please e-mail me for more information). John has karmically touched enough people over the course of his life that he has love and support and faith that he will reach the finish!

For a 10,000 + marathon race, the start was incredibly unorganized. Yes, there were port o lets a plenty, but no starting corrals, or even directions to where the start line is and when to line up. Many of us lined up early only to then be told that sub 8 minute pace runners should move into a cordoned off area. I had lined up next to a couple grizzly shore marathon veterans and a young quiet blonde girl. One of the veterans had run the last 13 Shore marathons and was wanted the race number 13. He got 4 Instead, and he was complaining. More negative karma!
I need a positive sign here so I moved over to the speed roped off area and boy was I glad I did. No I am not going to tell you I paced with the leaders through 5 miles. However, I did plan on running at 8:30 to 9. Within the first mile I pass half marathon or relay people that had no business being up at the front corral impeding the rest of us, some even get all but run over!

Once on the course the first mile along the ocean was actually nice. (read good karma!) The cool ocean breezes and sun make for a pleasant experience. At mile 2, I duck in a port-0-let as I had been hydrating like crazy. I pee 4 times the hour before the race, but after 30 minutes in the corral nature called again! By mile 3 we duck away from the shore into Oceanport. The humid mid morning air hit us long before the hoses from the friendly residences, and it is only 9:30 am!

I am running at a conservative marathon pace of 8:45s just like the CROOM. But maintaining the pace is already becoming comfortably hard. I recalled my last marathon effort at Portland and my major blow up at mile 18. However, on that day I was running 7:45s after a cross country flight, and a wedding with a 12 pack in me sloshing around from the night before.
I hit mile 4 at sub 9 minute pace or 35 minutes. I looked over and there was the same quiet blond girl from the starting line. Viktoriya had never run a 5K until one year ago. This would be her 5th marathon since July 2009, yes within nine months! When the running bug bites, you can get infected! Having posted a sub 3:45 she has already qualified for the Holy Grail of marathon races, the BAA Patriots Day Race from Hopkinton to Copley Square. Now if I can only get her in the pool so she can tri a tri!

We bond enough to take out the IPOD and talk shop for a spell. We negotiate water stops and the tide of runners slowing down by the heat. We hit the eight mile mark right at 70 minutes or still on 8:45 pace. Again the gods were signaling us with the heat. I felt like I had already run the same as my 14 mile training run around the Great Swamp loop.

We cross the relay transfer station and I saw R2C14 member Dianna came out for a shout out. Viktoriya wisely hit a gels pack. Wish I had one with me! I hit up a 5 year old girl who is doling out gummi bears with her dad. Hey better than nothing!

Mile 11 at 1 hour and 38 minutes all systems are still go. We cruise through downtown Long Branch, all boarded up and vacant reminding me of a place that would inspire Bruce to sing about. The latent heat only accented the depressing wooden planks, crumbling sidewalks and trash littered about.

Here St. Peter is sorting out the weaker souls for the Damien express bus. The course a gauntlet of runners devolving into walkers. Worse still are the lost souls now lying on the curbs with blood pressure and ice bags cooling their bodies. Victoriya’s face betrays her inner fears. Can I become one of the fallen runners? I recall a line from Indiana Jones, “that the penitent soul get saved,” as Indy kneels and avoids the deathtrap devices aimed to take him out at chest level.
Victoriya is practicing good karma to respect the weather gods. She will go on to finish the race a shade over 4 hours. Awesome job V. for marathon V. For me, having finished many marathons and IMs, I am not unnerved yet, but with the heat I know that nutrition, hydration, and ice can serve to placate these deities.

Here the remnants of the 3:40 pace group pass us. Getting passed is always a karmic downer. Hmmnn, if you wanna call five runners and a flag a pace group, let’s make up our own one. We see many half marathoners walking wounded, but Viktoriya and I are marching on. I place a hand on the shoulder of a walker and offer some encouragement. I repeat this several times assuring them we are near home and run it in. Soon, V and I become a band of 6 or 7, a ragtag group running together.

It is now mile 12 and we circled back to the shore and the cool ocean breeze gave me a second wind. We march along the boardwalk through the crowds, making our way to the finish line. Feeling the power and energy from the crowd is always a boost and we cross the 13.1 mark in 1:56. The positive vibes of the finish is tempered by the realization that we have another 13.1 to go! I placate myself with gels off the half marathon finishing table.

At 11:15 am we hit mile 15 and are 2 hours and 15 minutes in. We leave the shoreline and the cool air and were back inland with the heat. Without the half marathoners the course is a line of refugees under a hot sun. OK, Tim, settle in for an IM like effort. Run a mile and a half to the aid station, walk and ice and Gatorade and then repeat.

As I am mentally steeling myself, Victoriya senses I am slowing down. I tell her to go ahead, always the first signs of surrender. She hesitates a minute and then presses ahead. I manage to keep her in sight through mile 16. As you body weakens, your mind becomes more powerfull.
I IPOD up and throw in my new DJ Enferno mix downloaded after meeting him when he DeeJayed Mur Mur several weeks ago during “industry night”. The dance jams kept me moving through mile 18 at 2 hours 45 minutes. Only eight to go!

The crossing from Oceanside back to Long Branch is an intercoastal bridge with a slight rise. I reason with myself, I can just walk this hill right? The walking feels awesome, my heart rate comes down and I realize how jelly like my legs are. I also realize that forcing an IM effort, while not in IM shape is conceptually hard to implement.

My initial annoyance at the lack of an organized starting line, is trumped by the aid stationsthat have ZERO ice. Lukewarm watered down Gatorade is not a huge wow factor at mile 18 regardless. No ice, behind on my fuel intake, and extreme heat all whip together to forge a potent death mix. My race may have been in purgatory thru 18 but now is descending into Hades with each passing step. I shuffle jog and overheat quickly and walk again. The 3:50 pace group passes me. Well actually the lone pacer girl with her flag tucked under her arm as the group has perished miles ago.

By mile 20 there are two walkers for every runner. This misery loves company is a tough mental barrier to overcome and run, when your body is shutting down. I down several more salt tabs and a gel, hoping for some energy. As I walk, I chart my progress versus the others around me. I shuffle jog a couple of hundred yards and walk and still I lose ground to “my peers”.
By mile 21 I approach the relay transfer station again. This also means crowds and noise. Crowds demand you run, or at least show effort. They are out in the heat too, so I always feel like I should try.

I pass a family watching me from the shade. I tell the young boy, “So, listen, if you cheer for me, I run for you”. That is how this works out here.” He gingerly claps, I gingerly shuffle. His sister claps too, I begin a jog. His parents join in and shout at me. I am off and running. I believe again in myself and my body responds.

I enter the relay point and R2C14 Dianna cheers me and offers water. I miss the exchange but the crowd supporting me and seeing someone I know stoke my fuel reserve. For the next mile I am good but the heat demons come back and work on my overheated system. I slow to a walk and find a reason to keep going. That reason is an ex-marine and a ponytailed cougar who march up to me with the 4:15 pace sign and two 20 something runners in tow.
Seeing this platoon, I latched on desperately. Immediately 3 others also latched on. Now we were a combat force of 8 or 9 commanding the street amongst those that have given up hope. At cross streets the cops nod approvingly and stop traffic. This is almost fun again!
I love being one of the pack so much that I fail to notice that now at mile 23 our strikeforce is down to me, the marine, and the cougar. Wha’ happen?

My brain panics and I drop too. I have stopped sweating and I can feel the chills that are a leading indicator of heat stroke. But with only 3 miles to go? Run Tim! No, my brain is providing the excuse to walk most of the way to mile 24.
Here I finally find ice. I jam chunks down my shorts, and in my visor. I run, walk, run again. No one passes me, but I am not passing much either. We all just wanted this to be over. We are at 4:25 or so finishing pace and two miles to go. It is 1:30pm and I am a sunburnt disaster. I have no appetite for food, or drink. If I see my car I would jump in right here.

The turn to the boardwalk at mile 25 fails to provide any cool breezes, music or fan support. The race is not a race but a survival to the finish. Deep down inside I boil up reasons to finish. Time is irrelevant, my car is a block over, and no one is waiting for me at the finish line. I am proud of the fact I have never been a quitter, but beyond that why subject my body to this anymore? To second the notion, my right hamstring seizes. I hobble from my shuffle into a straight leg walk.

Some people say that marathoners are just runners with a stubborn ego. I would say they are pessimists. They say running anymore than a 10K is meaningless to your overall health and does more damage than good. Many of these same people have never finished a marathon. These same people destroy others rather than challenge their own personal boundaries exploring the unknown. Finishing a marathon is a way of empowering yourself. To overcome adversity and push yourself outside your comfort zone. Marathons build confidence and provide a benchmark that you can accomplish something.

As I overheat in the final approach to the chute finish, both hamstrings and quads seize up together again and I am King Drama ready to fall down and have to crawl across the finish. I have pushed myself to the extreme, and gone as far as I could go , but that's far enough today.

Marathons are a positve way to express you are living life on your terms. Being the one to decide when to run faster, when to slow down, when to quit, or when to endure more pain and suffering. I crack a smile as I think how I am spending my Sunday morning, here in Dante’s Inferno of my own choosing. Meanwhile, an Ironman and dad of three young children is spending his Sunday in his own hell. He is enduring epically greater levels of hell, and not of his own choosing.

The power of prayer, hope and love is your support and your people will keep your faith when you may not have anything left. A marathoner believes in themselves and your marathon family has faith in you. And yes I have faith that god is willing.

CROOM Race Report April 3rd. 2010

CROOM Pre-Race April 2nd

So in January my family planned an Easter 2010 beach vacation for Sarasota, FL with my mother in law and brother in law’s family. Also as I always do in January I also plan my annual goals and dream races.

What if there happens to be a nearby race in Florida Easter week that is accessible from I-75?

What if ultra Mike (from my GEER Race Report) is the co-race director and there is a 50K option for my less than in shape, (or more of a shape) winter self?

What if I now stop with the hypothetical’s and get to the race report?

The CROOM 50 Mile Fool Run takes place in the Withlacoochee State Forest near Brookville, FL just north of Tampa. For me, there is a 50K (I’n not a fool) option and also a 15 mile fun run option too.

What is in Brookville, FL? Not a lot, which means my dining options were Burger King, Mickey D’s Waffle House, Denny’s or a local Tex Mex called Enchiladas. .. So care to guess what my pre-race fare consisted of along with my crew Aunt Ginger and Uncle Ron from the nearby Villages? At least Enchiladas had great service and Michelob Ultras!

The positive forces of an early to bed at a quiet newer Hampton Inn just outside the forest is offset by the negatives of the dreaded 4:30 wake up call. A in room breakfast yielded early returns from Enchiladas and I was off for the ten mile drive to the forest. The early am air was in the low 50s but day temps were to hit the mid 80s.

The CROOM races all follow the same 15.5 mile loops, one two or three times depending on whether you are a 15 miler, a not a fool 50Ker or a 50 mile fool. The trails consisted of loose sand, to pine needles to ash from newly burnt land to eradicate dead trees and undergrowth.

For those who are curious about the park and how trail running and terrain impact your running, check out this awesome race report and trail descriptions posted by a new ultra trail runner healthy Ashley along with great pictures.

http://healthyashley.blogspot.com/2010/04/croom-50k-race-recap.html

The 50 mile “FOOLS” set off at 6am in the dark using the miner headlamps described in my GEER report. Upon their departure I enjoyed a leisurely pre-race routine, drinking Gatorade, readying my aid drop bag and of course some more quality time in the Port-o-let complements of Enchiladas!

Race Start 7am 1st loop Miles 0-15.5

At 7am the 50K I’m NO FOOLS!, set off with the 15 milers. I got off to a fast start down the gravel road for the 1st mile. I learned at GEER that once you hit the single track trails it is tough to pass slower folks. While that is OK during a 100K mountain race, here on a flatter course I wanted to be free to run my own sub 9 minute pace from the get-go . Also as the road was downhill and it was cool out, why not push it a bit, no?

After a mile or so we turned onto a sandy access road for the next two miles and then onto the single track accurately described by Ashley with her awes pictures on her post. However I did note the differences between the three sets of runners. Generally speaking the 15 milers sported your usual running shoes, shorts and a t shirt or maybe a technical half marathon tee. Also very few carried any food or water bottles with them.

Conversely, the 50 milers had trail running shoes, or even in some cases Vikram Five Fingers or comparable minimalist footwear. Everyone had a bottle, or camelback, and many had gel belts or food sources. FINALLY, I observed lots of COMPRESSION SOCKS!!! Yay! My kind of folks! I am not a freak, I am not a freak! unless all of these folks are freaks too . . .Hmmnnnn . . .uh oh! Well if the running shoe fits . ..

The first six miles of the course flew by. I was drinking and cruising by slower 50 milers. By my estimate there were only 15 or so 50Kers and 15 mile folks ahead of me, though I was unsure how many of each ilk. The landscape was pretty open but still the trail had sand and roots that would trip you up.. . .and yes, an hour in I was actively seeking the shelter of some bushes. Friggin Enchiladas! I finally found some cover including a nice predug animal hole and then quickly returned to the course. And yes, I had planned ahead with some TP too! I am now an officially seasoned trail runner. Score!

By now I was running solo through the trails. I hit the 9 miles aid station in one hour and 20 minutes. Right on 9 minute pace. I worked to get in and out of the aid station quickly and back to the trail. Yes, Mike, I have learned from you “Oh Trail Running Jedi Master!”

The second half of the loop carried us through several sinkhole depressions and even over several small hills on leaves covering sandy trails yes, but also covering roots. That being said as I jammed down a hill through an ash burnt out slope, bang, I was airborne after stubbing my toe on said root. I fell mostly on my right side and skinned my arm pretty good. Talking post race, many fell 2 or 3 times each!

2nd loop 9:30am Miles 15.5-31.1

After the fall I wet my mouth and set off and then poof I was right back at the starting area halfway home in 2 hours and 25 minutes at 9:30am. I quickly refilled water bottles, and also prepared a Perpetuem bottle. I was feeling fatigued and also noted that the air temp was already heating up even by now. I also assumed that no more than 10 or so 50Kers were ahead of me. However, since the GEER last September, I have run one 21 miler and my lack of training was now exposed. I focused on my mental strength, hydrating and eating on schedule. I popped in my favorite IPOD playlist too. Still I could feel the concrete building in my legs and feet.

As the photos attest, I wore my lightest weight track shoes, and also my compression gear to avoid cramping and allow cooling. But running solo is tough as your mind assails you with excuse after excuse to slow down and walk. I battled on and kept running to the 20 mile aid station coming through the Spanish moss Oak trees lane per Ashley’s great photo. Here, I did pause and regroup. The aid guy had a huge horn that trumpeted my arrival. I salt tabbed up, and also hit the Mountain Dew. Ok, less than 12 miles left. I reluctantly slogged out and back on course.

Now several 50 milers finally repassed me. I was slowing down. However I still hit the 24 mile aid station at approximately 4 hours. Here my crew of Ron and Ginger awaited! Yay! The aid folks refueled me. Ginger babywiped off some of my grime as she told me that a bunch of folks had gotten lost and appeared walking up the main road. As I told Mike and Andy the co-Race directors postrace, I was actually IMPRESSED with the trail markings and ribbons system.
OK, 7 miles home. I set off and managed to run the first three miles to the 27 mile aid station. I was still eating, drinking, and salting, but the sandy trails, the heat, fatigue, lack of training, any other excuse my brain could muster was winning the war over my mental resolve to keep running.

I left the aid station still in good shape standing wise and was told I was in 10th place. I hit the first of the five hills I had counted from the first loop and my mind justified walking to my body. As I crested the top, I saw three runners plodding on to the bottom. Giddayap time Tim! I ran down the other side and hit an Expresso Caffeine Hammer Gel. I mounted the next hill, then the next hill, staving off the pursuers. On the fourth hill the three guys caught me just at the top and passed me heading down. My morale and will also headed down. I bottomed out, both the hill and my will. My brain convinced me my left quad was cramping and I should not run anymore.

Where is the finish? I walked, ran a 100 yards, walked again. Two more guys passed me now. Then a guy and two girls. Finally I spied the large and in charge camera guy. He could not have ventured to far from the start and his parked car could he? Sure enough he relayed, only a quarter mile to go! I picked It up and nearly caught one of the gals at the finish. As it turns out, the walking took me out of 15th place in the 50K and dropped me to 20th place overall out of 68 finishers. Still what a fun race and a solid finishing time of just over 5 and a half hours or 10:20 pace. Yes, I missed a top 15 by less than 5 minutes, but I had put myself in a great position being in the top 10 with some stud trail runners.

CROOM Post Race

I hung at the park with Ginger and Ron, with their baby doggies Cuddles and Gracie. I downed a Coke and vaporized a cheeseburger as finisher continued to come in. The great part of being a two loop 50K I’m no fool, was to be on hand to greet the top 50 mile male and female finshers! Everyone was so friendly and supportive of each finisher. The volunteers are awesome and the race went smoothly due to the performance of Mike Melton and Andy Matthews. I will definitely return to CROOM soon. Maybe even acting the fool next time!

Great Eastern Endurance Race 100K

6 am race start for 300 ultra runners . .I am in the back!!!







Living a whole life in one day. What a long strange trip its been!!!










Refueling stop at Kennedy Ridge Trail at mile 30.7






Serving sweaty stinky runners since 2003!





Race Director Gill at the 5:30 am briefing


The eleventh hour (5pm) Mill Creek Trail Sherando, VA Mile 42 (67K of the GEER 100K)

I sift through my bag of running tricks. 1. IPOD, check-on and in use, 2. magic salt tabs, check just took them, 3. Expresso Hammer Gel with caffeine, check just ate one. 4. Perpetuem fuel drink check, Damn, I am fueled, hydrated, and IPODed. I am wet, alone, and feeling miserable and over 20 miles from the finish.

My sane brain develops a plan. Walk slowly to Mile 47.7 and meet dad, and jump into a warm mini-van back to the hotel. After a hot steamy shower have a nice dinner and then catch the Penn St Iowa game that starts at 8pm. We will all have a few cold Coors Lights with Paul and Jen and be in bed by 10pm knowing I did my best. I wallow around in self pity and mull over this plan. Why not? I have done damn well out here. I have gone 42 miles up and down mountain trails in 11 hours. I munch on a soggy WaWa soft pretzel. It is getting dark, it is cold, and the weather is getting worse. You are just one man on a Cold Mountain.

12 hours earlier 5:00 am RACE START – SHERANDO LAKE, VA September 26, 2009

I park the car at Lake Sherando Pavillion and close the door. Man, it is dark out! The air is misty wet but warm and still at 55 degrees. In an hour there will be not quite 300 trail runners toeing the race starting line. The majority opt for the half marathon or even the 50K race distances. 88 of us masochists are signed up for the full monty or the 100K. The course will navigate over 15,000 feet of elevation change with three major climbs up to the Bald Mountain Summit at 3500 feet. The technical course is marked by flags, but it is possible to get lost, fall, or encounter wildlife such as black bear. In fact the prior week to the race, I conversed with David Snipes, aka the grim trail sweeper, several times about the seriousness of the mountains and trail running. Last year he escorted several “flatlanders” off the mountain which took several hours.
Disclaimers aside, for those fashionistas out there, yes I am compression geared up. I have donned an Under Armour compression long sleeve shirt, a Cannondale pocketed bike over shirt, 2XU compression shorts, and my signature 2XU white compression calf guards. An IM hat and ASICS GT2140 trail shoes round out the ensemble. One by one the runners flick on their light sources, either flashlights or headlamps. I have opted for a Princeton Tec headlamp. It weighs only 78 grams and throws a bright beam for 7 yards all around me into the George Washington National Forest.

The Beach Pavillion is the Start/Finish which most of us 100Kers will see only in the dark. Race director Gil explains the course markings with the orange flags, and that two flags indicate a turn or intersection. The course will have 13 aid stations along the 100K and we should send our prepared “Drop Bags” in the U-haul out to four places on the course.

Right at 6 am we hear a “GO!” and we are off like the wind. Well, more like a leisurely jog. (Each stage capsule notes the time I started the titled stage, the ending place, the stage mileage increment and the time cutoff required to finish the stage or be DNF’ed.

6am Stage 1- Start to Slacks Overlook (Camp Marty) Miles 0 to 5.7 (Time cutoff 7:38am)
The pace is comfortable as we head one mile down the paved road to the park entrance. We exit into the woods onto “single track” or trail for a one mile 900 foot climb up to Torry Ridge. Running by headlamp is strange but with runners all around me I feel more than safe. We enter the single track and wisely the line walks up the trail. When I say trail I should say rocks with dirt. Footing is difficult and one must judiciously choose where to put your foot down on a solid dirt surface between rocks. In fact, the majority of the run will be like this. So to average a 4 mph pace or 15 minute miles is actually not a walk but moving along at a decent jogging pace. Until you have tried it, it is hard to fathom how trail running is that much harder than road running. I glance up the hill hoping to catch a string of headlamps. Runners around me nervously chatter and compare prior races, experience, and whether they are 50K or 100K people. I chat with a 59 year old who just completed Ironman Lake Placid. His name is Gary Baum and originally thought this run was in late October. Oops! We both compare IM notes and wonder what the hell we are doing out here with these trail types.

After a mile of climbing we crest the hill onto Torry Ridge. We are able to run, albeit in a single line and in some places the trail is all rock, and no dirt which is nuts to try and run with some exposed ridgelines. The pace is agonizingly slow which is a blessing. Why so slow? A climb affords me a view of the ten runners ahead and there he is. A large man with a fat Camelback hydration thermos and a flashing red light reflector. Passing him would be like passing a semi on a winding mountain road. Oh well, the race cannot be won at mile 3. After an hour at 7am the dark fades into light but there is no sunrise due to the cloud cover. No views today.
We arrive at the first aid station (Camp Marty) at 7:30 am, or 8 minutes before the 7:38 time cutoff (BTC). Technically if you fall behind the time cutoff a horn blares, and you are pulled from the course and labeled Did not Finish in the Results. I dread the DNF status. I am chomping at the bit to run but am also glad I am holding way back.

At Camp Marty like each aid station there is a tailgating tent with all the typical ultra food, Water, Gatorade, PB and J, M&Ms, bananas, oranges, ham and cheese, potato chips, boiled potatoes, and pretzels. See the salt theme? Losing sodium and magnesium over a one, two, or even a four hour run reduces your performance. An hour of normal sweating can strip 100-400 mg of sodium. Over a 14 hour period salt imbalances can be life threatening. So during an ultra managing your body’s electrolytes and salt levels is critical. Without replacing key electrolytes your body cannot retain water and you will become dehydrated. Worse is if you overhydrate or drink so much water you suffer from hyponentremia , which in extreme cases can literally cause death, by having diluted your bloodstream too much.

I stop briefly and grab some gels, a water bottle, and a bag of Perpetuem powder out of my drop bag to make a liquid nutrient source. The powder is a nutrient source that provides, fuel and also is replacements of all sorts of electrolyte nutrients such as potassium, sodium, magnesium etc. It digests easily and provides ready fuel. Perpeteum will be a key to any success for me by maintaining a balanced electrolyte body environment all day long.

7:35 am Stage 2 White Rock Trail Mile 5.7 to 7.7 (Time limit to reach next stage 8:12)
The running group has thinned out as the 50K jackrabbits are long gone. I pass a couple of pokeys pokes and fall in with Shelley who lives in Charlottesville and works at Starlight Brewing. We chatter a bit about brewing beer, and how he got into that line of work. We cross several creeks and waterfalls descending the trail. The footing is still tricky and one almost has to hop to make sure you hit a non rock spot to land your foot. Before we know it we pop out at the Blue Ridge Parkway and cross over to aid station 2 White Rock Trail at 8:10am.

8:10 am Stage 3 White Rock to Priest Mt. Overlook Miles 7.7 to14.5 (Time BTC 10:09 am.)
I joke with the aid station guys that we are right on the Time Cutoff line and he jokes back it is OK, but the underlying sentiment is get out of here and start moving. I grab a couple of OREOs and I am off. I do not want to spy David Snipes, AKA the Grim Trail Sweeper this early. He is the one man trail sweeper and he will run with you at the time cut line and if you cannot keep up with him you must stop at the next stage and self DNF.

The next 2.3 miles to mile 10 is on the Blue Ridge Parkway that runs through the Shenendoah National Park 20 miles north. Ah, pavement running . .of course right down the road is a big old hill and I wisely shift down to a power walk. A tall swift ultra runner catches me. The hill ends and we both set of at a brisk but comfortable jog. After 2 miles running together we turn off the BR Pkwy. State Road 814 is an out and back 4.5 mile gravel road that first descends from 2500 feet to 1250 feet and the Priest Mountain Overlook Aid Station. Then of course we have to climb back up!

My new friend Mike is a financial planner by weekday, but by weekend he is an ultra race hunter. He has run 50Ks, 100Ks, 100 miles, even run relay events as a solo team. He has run 72 hour track runs. He has crewed Badwater. He has run and hung with Dean Karnazes . . if you have to ask . . . .Though my ultra knowledge is limited, the fact I am Badwater and Dean conversant brings credibility with Mike. We start what is a 35 mile conversation. We talk about running, races, work, money, food, the Seminoles, girls, family, hey when you have all day together you can hit a lot of subjects you name it . . .For me, Mike is a wealth of trail knowledge. For Mike, I am a newbie but someone to talk with and pass the time and the miles with. We cover the 7 miles to Priest Mountain aid station in just over an hour at 9:15 am one hour BTC.

9:20 am Stage 4 Priest Mountain to White Rock Miles 14.5 to21.2 (Time to complete 12:05 pm)
I grab my drop bags and reload my pockets with gels, fill up my water bottles, and repowder with Perpetuem into my water bottle. Mike says he is going to pee. I chat with the aid station crew a minutes and look for Mike. He is gone. I recall something I read. You can lose oodles of time in the aid stations being social. Mike may be a new friend but he is gone. I set out up the mountain gravel road but the grade approaching 7-9 percent reduces me to a walk. I spot Gary Baum, and he is complaining again. We have exhausted our IM talk and all I hear is “this hurts, that, the other, this is hard “etc . . .negative karma big time. .I cannot have that this early.
Hmmnn this is a 4.5 mile hill climb . . .I did a 1.5 mile climb in the R2C14 relay. I can run a little here and there. I jog a bit, keeping the HR low. I climb, I rest, I run a bit more. I pass a few here and there. Then around the next switchback I see tall swift Mike. I jog up alongside and he smiles, but I can tell is a bit surprised to see me. It is a challenge for me to walk and keep up but hey it beats running. I am the walking puppy dog keeping up with its master.

At the top four miles later we see the Trail Sweeper heading down to Priest . . We joke with him that we will not see him again today! He says “I hope not!”
Back on the BR Pkwy we resume running. There are Paul and Jen we are supposed to meet later! They are celebrating their 15th anniversary this weekend and Paul has agreed to “pace” me in later today. A “pacer” is someone who volunteers their Saturday to unofficially run 10, 20, even 30 miles on trails with a cranky tired ultra runner. A pacer deals with a runner who complains about everything, and tries to quit or slow down and rest whenever possible. A pacer is charged with motivating, cajoling, conning, bribing, coercing, scouting, lying about how great you look, anything to get their runner to the finish. A friend is a friend but a pacer is a friend for life!
We retrace to the aid station where two hours ago I was just 2 minutes BTC. Now we are over 2 hours BTC and feeling confident with 21+ miles under our belt. A third of the way done AND ONLY 10:30 IN THE MORNING! YIPPEEE!! The weather is high 50s, overcast and no wind, ideal. The last 14 miles on gravel and pavement have been perfect running conditions. The fact we will have less than 7 miles of the remaining 40 on flat firm surfaces is of no import. The fact the rain clouds are gathering is irrelevant. I am over four hours in and am in a full blow runner’s high. But the storm clouds are gathering.

10:30 am Stage 5 White Rock to Slacks Camp Marty Miles 21.2 to 23 (Cutoff time 12:34 pm.)
I refill my water bottle. I will repowder my Perpetuem at Camp Marty in 2 miles. I am fishing for my Electrolyte magic pills when Big Mike offers me one of his SUCCEED S! pills. S! has 240 Mg of sodium and has a buffered release. I would need 6 of my pills for the same content. I pop one in, and then head behind a tree to pee. I look up and Big Mike is gone again. Damn he moves fast out of the aid stations! I lumber out onto the trail and glimpse him disappearing around a bend. I hustle to catch up. We start climbing up the trail. Fast 50K runners are hauling down the trail at us now. Half marathon runners too, much slower and picking their footing much more carefully. The contrast between 50Kers and half marathoners is noticeable in their body types and footing approach. However, anyone undertaken a trail race of any distance has balls. Running a trail half marathon tis like a road 20 miler any day, so hats off to all these runners regardless of distance.

We reenter Camp Marty and are 90 minutes BTC. I am greeted by the best Ultra Crew ever, Mom, Dad, Jen and Paul. I get a hug, and check in with the race time official. I repowder my Perpetuem add water and grab potatoes and salt. I tell dad I have hooked up with this guy Mike who is ultra man and he is mentoring me. My dad points and says is that him? I look around and there goes Mike disappearing up the trail again. “Dad, gotta go!” I feel bad. Not because I got up at 4am, am 23 miles and 5 hours into a trail run, but that my folks have been waiting for 2 hours and I am gone after 2 minutes. Well, you know what CREW stands for, “Cranky Runner, Endless Waiting.” My crew rocks!! I am a comfortable 1 hour and 34 minutes BTC. All is well in my little trail ultra running world.

11:00 am Stage 6 Camp Marty to Bald Mountain #1 Miles 23 to 25.5 (Time to reach 1:17 pm.)
From Camp Marty we retrace up to the Torry Ridge trail run earlier. A sharp turn takes us up to the top of Bald Mountain. Walking up trail 50K runners barrel down at us one after the other. Their turnaround to head home is just ahead. A 50K gal with a British accent and nice legs comes up behind me passes and Mike cabooses right on. I drop back a bit as the banter borders on shameless flirting. “Well I have a tent pitched here at the campground.” The climb is steep and we actually traverse a boulder field. Finally, we reach the peak and the Bald Mountain Jeep Road (BMJR) I have another name for it, . “The wet, muddy, rutted, puddled, rocky, bear infested track.”

We pass a runner with a sophisticated waist mounted hydration gel holder contraption that looks like a Batman batbelt. Kevin is a veteran ultra runner from Woburn, MA with seven 2009 ultras also under belt . We glide past and at 11:35am we hit Bald Mt. aid station #1 at 1:32 BTC.

11:45 am Stage 7 Bald Mt #1 to Kennedy Ridge Miles 25.5 to 31.2 (Stage time BTC 3:29 pm.)

This is our first of three climbs up Bald Mountain. We are now at 3500 feet of elevation, or 2000 feet above the Priest Mountain Overlook 10 miles earlier. Rebecca and Alyssa “man” or should I say “girl” up this station. Both have legit “trail cred” having completed the 50K and the 100K GEERs the last two years. Alyssa was 4th overall last year and completed IM Louisville sub 12 hours (kickin my ass BTW!). But today she dutifully refills my water bottles and Rebecca takes my trash and forces a cup of soup into my hand. I powder up with Perpetuem, pop another S! and I am ready to go.

I look up for Big Mike. Surprise, surprise, he is gone again . . . MAN! I jog out onto BMJR and IM Gary comes with. I stop to walk a bit at mile 27 to bring my HR down and Gary notes this is a flat section. I note back that the BMJR is a rocky and huge muddy puddle pool that cover vast stretches of the track so much that you have to traverse around in the woods. But I say to Gary, “Flat section? “Yeah so what? ” Gary states, “Gotta run the flats, there will be plenty of walking later”.

He is right, I man up and jog again. I round a turn and “whoosh” A runner comes right at me. The 50K runners have already turned around so he must be a 100K guy already looping BACK UP TO Bald Mt #2 at mile 40. Well, OK I am at mile 27 so he is at least 12 miles ahead of me. Wow! I am processing this info when I spy Big Mike cresting the next hill in the distance. I motor up and catch him just over the top. He smiles and resumes storytelling about being a race director, and what it is like to run a 72 hour track ultra in the middle of an retired dot comer’s estate in the Arizona desert and how he drove there to run from his home in Florida over HIS CHRISTMAS VACATION!

We keep running and start our descent down the Kennedy Ridge to the Coal Road 4 miles away at mile 31. My crew will be there waiting. The wide trail is rocky but runnable and all downhill mile after mile. Mike and I watch our footing but are running well. We then hear this maniacal laugh and Boston Bat Kevin sans fannypack swoops down the trail from behind us. Mike and I comment on how his quads will blow up soon. Shoot, my quads are feelling it with this downhill at mile 28!

We pass a kid with an IM Louisville finisher hat, like mine. His desperate look tells me he has given up. He whines that his quads are burnt up and shot. I try to come up with something positive to say as we glide past. I cannot. This race is brutal and this hill trail is rocky and brutally straight down mile after mile, dropping from 3500 to 2100 feet. Deep, back in the darkest part of my mind I know we will retrace all these steps up the mountain later on in the race. So much later on in fact from mile 51-57 under the cover of darkness that I am not even worried about that yet. That is 6 hours from now for crissakes. Mike and I are gabbing away when a swift runner materializes in front of us. He glides up the trail effortlessly like a deer and slips by us without a word. I turn to Mike. “He must be lost?” Mike thinks a minute. No that is the race leader, Mark Lundblad. “ I say that can’t be right that would put him at mile 52 and it is has only been 7 hours since race start. That can’t be right? I know there is a $500 prize for a sub 10 hour finish, but come on, he is only 14 miles away? OMG! Amazing!

We pop out of the woods at mile 31 and Dad is waiting. We chat and I hear that the second place runner ran the wrong way and DNF’ed. Also there was a bear sighting on the Kennedy Ridge trail, and a female DNF’ed. Talk about trail race gossip!

Dad asks if I want to change clothes or grab a poncho. I say no and he says I look great. I stop by the van and give Mom a hug. She tells me how good I look and to keep eating. Do I have the best crew or what? Of course, Big Mike is long gone by now. That guy is a lean, mean ultra running machine and I set out to chase him down once again.

1:30 pm Stage 8 Kennedy Ridge to Stony Man Trail Miles 31.2-34.2 (Next stage BTC 4:23 pm.)
This section is all gravel road. No it is still a hilly bitch but this is more my bag, baby! I finish eating half a P and J, suck on my Perpetuem nutrition drink bottle and pop in the IPOD. Three Dog Night launches into Try a Little Tenderness. My body responds. I pass, one, then two runners. Up ahead on the straight road I see Boston Kevin and yes further up there is Big Mike. I am rockin’ out and U2’s Bad is blaring. I keep up my pace passing right by Kevin and sneak right up to Big Mike. This time he is a bit surprised to see me. We run together the next mile to the Stony Man trailhead station. It is 2:10pm and we are a solid 2 hours and 11 minutes BTC. We grab some football scores, FSU is going to lose to USF! Also I eat bananas, cookies, and grab a whole PB and J to go. We are off together quickly. TOGETHER!!! I am finally getting this aid station thing down after 35 miles.

2:10 pm Stage 9 Stony Man Trail to Bald Mt #2 Miles 34.2 to 40.7 (BTC to next stage 6:22 pm.)
In the Guide to the GEER, this stage was advertised as the most difficult climb comprising six miles from 1250 feet up to the 3500 foot Bald Mt. summit. We are walking, but while Big Mike may be walking, I am power walking to keep up. My HR slowly creeps up there. I finish my food and realize I have to slow it down or I will perish. Mike slowly pulls away and then I am alone. It is mile 36 and I have not been truly alone out here before or even out of sight of other runners yet today. I pop in the IPOD and try to find energy, resolve, mental fortitude anything to allow me to keep moving one foot in front of the other. I need to hunker down and focus. I eat some pills, and know my belly is full of fuel. This tiredness is not a lack of fuel bonk. I am hydrate and am still peeing as I walk.

This is mile 36 and my body just has never dealt with this before. I think to myself, “I am at mile 36 now, OK 62 miles in total, , , ,Hell that is “just a marathon to go!” I think about Dean Karnazes in his book Ultramarathonman running 18 miles to a marathon, running the race, and then running 18 miles home afterwards. I grin ear to ear. I have been running 8 hours and now I am at the start of a marathon, which BTW is straight up a trail for the first five miles! I find this hilariously funny!

I shout up the trail to Mike who I cannot see but know is up there. “Hey Mike! Only a marathon to go!” He laughs back. Now I am physically exhausted but mentally positive and strong. I am going to do this thing! I pop the IPOD back in and hunker down for the climb. Around the bend there is Mike waiting for me. He says, “The only thing more stupid than walking 4 miles up a hill at mile 36 of an ultra is doing it by yourself when 100 yards behind is someone to talk to.” He slows down his pace and we walk up together to the far end of the BMJR. Here we both run a bit again. Little by little, Mike pulls away. (Mike tells me this later) “On my way into Bald Mt Aid Station #2, I was just minutes ahead of you and three black bears crossed the trail about 30 yards in front of me. The bears looked to be a mama and two cubs. They were there and then were gone quickly. Nevertheless, it was cool to see them!”

I am jogging, walking, and traversing puddles pools on the BMJR. Mentally I am OK, but physically I am working very hard. Plus here on the mountain top it is raining steady. As I arrive at Bald Mt #2 at :4:15pm, I see Big Mike getting ready to head out. Chasing him down is secondary to some rest and refueling. Boston Kevin is here too changing into dry clothes. Good idea. I grab my drop bag, fill up my Perpetuem bottle and swap out my wet jersey for a dry one. A poncho would be better but mine is with Dad 7 miles down the mountain at Turkey Pen Trailhead. Oh, in case you don’t know, Rebecca and Alyssa are awesome!

I am forcefed Chicken Noodle Soup and told how great I look and how well I am doing. There is a roaring bonfire going near the tent despite the pelting rain. So here at mile 40 and at 4:20 pm I am 2 hours BTC. I have been running for over 10 hours. I am in a dry shirt under a dry tent with warm soup and hot aid station girls. Deep inside my brain says “You have to go!” It is damn hard to leave. Kevin is sitting down and is going nowhere fast. (Everything I have read about ultras screams “Beware the chair!!”) You never want to get up again. I stall another minute. Alyssa relays directions to me for the second or third time. She is gently telling me I need to go. The first step into the dusky rain is the hardest. Then I disappear down the trail into the dusky cold wet mountaintop rain.

4:20 pm Stage 10 Bald Mt #2 to Turkey Pen Trail Miles 40.7 to 47.7 (Time BTC 8:30 pm.)
The descent down from Bald Mt #2 starts 50 yards from the tent. At 1pm the 1500 foot descent on the Kennedy Ridge trail took over 4 miles. Now it will be accomplished in less than a mile and a half. The trail switchbacks on itself time after time. My quads and feet protest each step. Running is an impossibility. Even walking is quite painful. Stopping means the only way out is eventually back up or all the way down. I have achieved a new low. After 30 minutes to cover the 1.5 miles, I reach the Mill Valley floor. I am finished. The trail is flat, relatively rock free and canopied in trees to hold back the rain to a drizzle. Gary’s voice echoes in my head “You need to run all the flat terrain you can” Well the terrain may be flat, but mentally I cannot get there. I sift through my bag of running tricks. 1. IPOD on and in use? check, 2. Take some magic salt tabs?, check just took them, 3. Expresso Hammer Gel with caffeine? check just ate one. Damn! I am fueled, hydrated, and IPODed. It is 5pm at mile 42 and I am wet, alone, miserable and over 20 miles from the finish.

My sane brain develops a plan. Walk slowly to Mile 47.7 and meet dad, and jump into a warm mini-van back to the hotel. After a hot steamy shower have a nice dinner and then catch the Penn St Iowa game that starts at 8pm. We will all have a few cold Coors Lights with Paul and Jen and be in bed by 10pm knowing I did my best. I wallow around in self pity and mull over this plan. Why not? I have done damn well out here. I have gone 42 miles up and down mountain trails in 11 hours. I munch on the remains of my WaWa soft pretzel. It is getting dark, it is cold, and the weather is getting worse. You are just one man on a Cold Mountain.

My brain inputs me into a scenario with Jude Law, Nicole Kidman, Natalie Portman, and Renee Zellweger. The movie version of Cold Mountain 2009 GEER style. Where do I fit in? Am I a soldier? An AWOL? A hero to save a heroine? These characters are fighting for their very lives against insurmountable odds and no aid stations or pacers. They have no choice. Why are you here, Tim? I think to Natascha Badmann at Kona 2007 not giving up on the bike even with a broken collarbone and a bad bike crash. “I remember my favorite Lance ism . Pain is temporary, quitting is forever. Why are you here right now Tim? To pack it in at 42 miles?

I push my weight forward. One foot, the other, I repeat this. Then I am jogging. In a few minutes I am running. The path fords the Mill Creek time and again. Just like the Watchung Reservation at home. Just like my training. It is wet, the trail is one big puddle, but I do not stop. I run for the next 45 minutes and 4 miles later at 6:05 pm I am close to aid station Turkey Pen. Here I have dry clothes including my magic compression tights, hot soup and the ultra marathoner’s most secret weapon. I look up the trail and there it is. Ok, under an umbrella, but with running shoes and ready to go. My secret weapon, Paul the pacer. We jog in together to Turkey Pen. I check in with race staff, and hit the dry minivan.

For the next 20 minutes, I am warm, dry and hanging with Mom and Dad and regrouping. I check the time. It is 6:25 pm and I am still over 2 hours BTC. Paul paces restlessly outside the van. Yes, it is time to go. I don my rain poncho over dry clothes and open the door to the rainy dusky gloom. 16 miles to home. Mom tells me how great I look.

6:30 pm Stage 11 Turkey Pen to Kennedy Ridge Trail Miles 47.7 to 50.7 (Next Cut 9:24 pm.)
We are back on the gravel Coal Rd for an easy 5K. (yeah right?!) Paul dashes off. I try to jog. Nope. After 20 minutes in the van the legs are going to fight me on this one. My will carries the day over my brain one more time and we are off at a slow shuffle. It is full blown dusk and raining quite hard. So hard in fact, that runners not equipped with changed clothes are DNF’ing all over. After this stretch of road, further running requires extraction from the mountaintop. I walk the uphill on the gravel road and curse the hill. Paul is eager beaver, but already wet without a poncho and in shorts. It is 50 degrees but the rain and dark are tough. It takes 40 minutes to cover a 5K I can run in half that time and I am wiped out once again.

7:15 pm Stage 12 Kennedy Ridge Trail to Bald Mt. #3 Miles 50.7 to 56.5 (11:10 pm cutoff.)
I thought mile 42 was tough but here at mile 50 is where the wheels truly come off. We see Boston Kevin and he is changing up just like I did 3 miles back. Despite Paul’s presence my mental toughness is fraying badly due to the rain, the approaching darkness, the 4+ mile climb back to the BMJR and 13 hours on the mountain that is longer than even any of my Ironman efforts. It is pitch black dark and raining hard. I am Charlie Sheen in the An Khe Valley in Platoon pulling guard duty on the 3 am firewatch.

We slowly inch up the ridge trail I descended so many hours ago. Paul is not dressed for the elements and is cold in just shorts and a technical shirt. A mountain man runner looking more like a wet noodle shivers past us complaining and looking terrible. Paul pushes me and I fight him all the way up the trail. I pray that my Princeton Tec lamp holds up in the rain. Paul has a flashlight and we strain to find the course marking flags and now glow sticks.

An hour of trekking and Kevin pushes past us up the hill . .. The climb is cold, wet, long and unforgiving. Paul moves ahead to scout glow stick. I push one leg down and then the other with my hands. I eat banana and mashed up wet PB and J from my pouch. I eat caffeine gels. When Paul gets far ahead I am in my own dark abandoned world. Perhaps this is his plan to make me walk faster. After forever we reach the BMJR and begin to negotiate puddles. BMJR never seems to end. Now it is 9:45 pm or 2 and a half hours of mushing through the cold wet rain up a mountain. I walk the whole way and hate it all. Morale is at an alltime low ..I am now Charlie Sheen in the foxhole with Bunny Dillon waiting to be overrun by Vietcong. Paul reminds me that in the Marines, they would hike all night with boots, heavy packs, and no lights under the cover of darkness. Friggin Marines. I huddle under my poncho in my low morale foxhole.

For the umpteen time, Paul scouts up ahead for the mysterious Bald Mt aid station. From my fox hole down the dark trail I hear cheering. Alyssa and Rebecca are cheering me in. I rise out of my mental hole and smile and think, “we are only 8 miles from the end.” I can do this. I grab my aid bag and slink under the dry tent. The girls tell me how great I look and how well I am doing. They are lying but they are good liars and I want to believe. Rebecca points over to the mountain man who is sitting in the SUV over there. “I just DNF’ed him. He is borderline hypothermic, and yes Tim you are looking good.”

Chili is on the stove and in our bellies and we are warming up. The race director, Gil, exits the SUV and walks to us through the pelting rain. I tell him that this course needs some teeth more than rain and tell his Grim Sweeper that New Jersey Tim did not come all this way to Virginia to DNF goddammit! He laughs and I tell him how impressed I am with all his hard work. He is proud of himself and he should be.

Alyssa asks us if we want garbage bags. I am confused. We need to haul down trash? Rebecca explains to wear them to keep us warm. Paul says no, then thinks about it between shivers and says “yes”. I say why not? After all of my misery we head onto the trail still 1:52 BTC beeetch!!
10:00pm Stage 13 Bald Mt. #3 Miles 56.5 to Camp Marty 58.5 (Next Cutoff time 11:52 pm.)
The garbage bag poncho warms us up quickly. Paul wants to run the 2.5 miles to Camp Marty. I am afraid that if I try that I will fall face down in a muddy puddle pool.

We exit BMJR to the single track. I tell Paul I will lead. I am walking swiftly (relatively) down the trail and the quads and toes start whining again. I am not sure which sucks worse, climbing or descending. We are retracing our climb from Camp Marty. We traverse the boulders and continue down Torry Ridge. We walk and as the trail steepness eases my so does any low morale. Flat trail is SOOO EAASSY!!! We run the last half mile of single track into camp Marty as the chili kicks in. Still, it takes us 45 minutes to reach the aid station.

As we hit the parking lot, headlamps kick on. It is mom and dad. Do I have the most AWESOME CREW OR WHAT!!! I so want to stay and chat (again), but instead I hand my dad a fistful of gels, and my empty water bottles. That is what being a crew is about. Waiting forever to see your runner for less than five minutes then taking their trash. Paul and I grab a chicken soup from Big Marty and head out in under 5 minutes. It is 10:50pm and 3.7 miles home all downhill baby! We are two hours + BTC and Paul thinks we can be there by 11:30 pm.

10:55pm Stage 14 Camp Marty to Sherando Lake Miles 58.8 to 64.5 (Final Time Cutoff 1 am)
We depart down the steep trail. We are so close just 3.7 miles to go! 25 minutes later we have just reached the fork at 1.2 miles into the stage. I tell Paul that after the fork the trail is easy and we must have less than mile or so to a one mile run on paved camp ground roads. I try to run but after I trip three times on roots or rocks in just over five minutes Paul takes the lead and I power walk. I strain to see or hear the campground. WE are one hour in and now it is midnight. All we see is more trail, more glow sticks, but no campground. All I hear is Paul ahead of me, shouting out, big rock, root in the trail, watch the cliff on the right, rock, root, BIG ROCK. Paul is convincing himself more and more that we are lost. I am useless now and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Paul worries we must have taken the wrong fork miles back there. It is impossible that 3.7 miles is this far! He tells me to think, that is think really hard, like he is talking to a 3 year old. “Are you sure this is the right trail?” and ”You have not been on it before?” Someone has tossed a couple of glow sticks onto a side trail at a creek crossing. This adds to our confusion. Paul races ahead then returns, then races ahead again searching for a trail head, a camp road, anything. I am having doubts myself that we missed a turn. Then at 12:10pm after an hour + on this stage I hear Paul. “The road, the road”!! Paul is Tattoo from Fantasy Island and our plane is coming in!! He races back for me and now I know we will make it. We hit pavement. I LOVE PAVEMENT. My body takes over and breaks into a run. I cannot even feel myself at all. I am floating over the pavement. Paul cruises ahead like a dog nearing his home. After over 18 hours out here you would think I would be more happy. To be honest, I am happier to be about done than amazed at the magnitude of the achievement. After a short paved mile we run in together under the finish banner at 12:26 pm or in 18 hours 26 minutes that breaks down to 17:50 per mile pace. To a New Yorker who briskly walks the Manhattan streets everyday, they may think, shoot, that is just an easy all day walk. But you and I know better. . . What a long strange trip it has been!


12:30 pm Finish Pavilion Lake Sherando Mile 64.5
At the finishing pavilion, Jen, Mom and Dad greet me as a couple of other finishers huddle around the fireplace, including Boston Kevin. I am congratulated by Francesca, Gil’s wife. She hands me a handcrafted pottery finisher’s medal. Nothing fancy, but after all, that is what ultra trail running is all about. Save the flash for the Walt Disney Marathons. Alyssa from Bald Mt, is there too and hands me a blanket and a celebratory smile. I am so impressed that she placed 4th overall last year and is volunteering this year. Race Director Gil is here too. I tell him that there is no way it is only 3.7 miles from Camp Marty to the finish. He confides in me that it is really close to 6 miles which makes this race a 104K race or 64.5 miles but what are a couple extra miles of trails in the rain at midnight? So I have completed a 104 K race beetch!!, Speaking of a couple of extra miles, Mark Lundblaud finishes the course in a new GEER record of 10 hours and 1 minute, missing out on a $500 bonus for sub ten hours by mere seconds. Wonder what he thinks about those phantom miles?

I find a seat by the fire and Jen and mom bring me lasagna, and a bottle of coke. Dad is snapping pictures and is proud. My crew is so awesome. After 20 minutes I send an exhausted mom and dad on their way to the hotel and bed. Paul and I offer a ride to 24 year old Andrea Neagle, a marine reservist who finished just ahead of us. This is her first ultra too and she is one of just four females to complete the race this year. In fact, only 43% will complete the GEER this year. It is 12:57 pm and just one runner comes in after me and Paul. Well at least I am not last!!

1 am Epilogue
As the four of us hobble to the parking lot and the car, we spot the unmistaken bobble of headlamps. Paul checks his watch. It is 90 seconds until 1am, the final time cut off. All four of us release blood curdling screams into the night. Move dammit! Go! Run! You can make it! Go hard now!!! You are SOOO IN!!! We scream back the 50 yards toward the pavilion. Runners coming in!!! We hear the pavilion people start to yell back out. Then two garbage bagged runners emerge from the darkness across the lot. They head toward us and await further instruction. I give it to them “Move soldier!” “FOLLOW the glow sticks around the back of the pavillion”. Move it goddamit!! Paul checks his watch again, it reads 1:01 am. He shakes his head. I say, “Paul how accurate is that watch marine boy? “I aways set it a tad fast so I won’t ever be late.

Brian Cobb, 37, and Steve Hilmy of Bethesda, MD 48 make it at 19 hours flat and 19 hours and 30 seconds. I am so tired but so inspired to visually see these runners pick it up and respond to our urging after being 19 hours out there realizing their own dream. All the pain and suffering I have endured over the last 19 hours is melted away . . .That is until I take my next step toward the car.

I finish in 35th place of 88 starters and my GEER race is finally over! This is a day I will never forget. My finish would not be possible without the remarkable race support I leaned on out there from so many enablers. My trail suffering compadre Mike, my race crew, Dad, Mom, and Jen. Race Director Gil, Francesca, that trail sweeper Sniper, Alyssa and Rebecca (the Bald Mt. Girls,) Big Marty, the Glow stick dispensing team, and the other equally needed aide station staff that while I cannot name hooked me up. And finally my pacer Paul without whom I would be just another DNF’er right now.