No Sympathy from the Swamp Devil Run

Prologue

2002 marks the year I consider my first running season. At 33 years old, 2002 remains my most successful season in terms of establishing personal records (PRs). In my devil may care attitude, in August I ran a 75 minute ten mile, September a 25K in two hours flat, and in October my only sub 4 hour marathon, in Baltimore in 3:36. On a post marathon high I glided into November and the Madison, NJ Giralda Farms 10K, sub 43 minutes, folllowed by the flat, fast, Basking Ridge Great Swamp Devil Run 15K in a PR 62:45.

My 2003 bulletproof run at a 3:20 marathon and Boston Qualifying at the May 2003 Pittsburgh Marathon were bedeviled on March 29th, 2003 as I lay in a Green Mountain, VT ravine with my snowmachine nose down in the snow and femur bones sticking out of my ski pants front and rear. My life was now in the balance of first responders. The 2002 Great Swamp Devil could be my last race ever.

So, in 2010 with the ING New York marathon in two weeks, the timing was finally right to return to the Great Swamp Devil Run and unleash my inner wildebeest. While I harbored no fantasies about besting my PR of 2002, I did hope to improve on my recent half marathon 7:45 pace. As a bonus, my good friends Ellen and Mike “Coondawg”, came to run as well. Ellen is also tuning up for NYC, having run a solid Newport, and Staten Island half marathons. Coondawg of R2C relay fame, had never run more than a 10K in a race. So October 24th became a special day for all of us!

Pre-Race

Sunday October 25th is one of those Indian summer days you want to be able to stash away and parade out in mid February. The race’s sponser is the Lord Stirling Special Needs School located on the fringe of the Great Swamp of New Jersey. The “Great Swamp Devil” is a fictional beast, but legend has it, the “Devil” patrols the Great Swamp ensuring safe haven for the many water birds that migrate to and thru the area.

We drive the ten minutes from Chatham to the Lord Stirling School to register and score Halloween orange colored long sleeve Swamp Devil T-shirts. The pre-race sun is warming and as we prepare to calm Coon’s nerves, we bump into Jackie Timmerman. She is a Lifetime PT, and Spin coach as well as triathlete extroadinaire with several Eaglemans and IM Coere’d Alene’s on her resume. She had a near Kona qualifying miss at Eagleman in 2008,and since I am a three time Eagle finisher we swap race stories. We also talk of her recent relays Ragner and Reach the Beach, in NH.

Soon enough it is time to hit the “let”one final time before toeing the starting line. With fewer than 300 racers, the startline is muy tranquilo. However, as I jockey toward the front line, I recognize many of the regular speed merchants of NJ road racing, Sergio Cano, Rick Pingatore and Bill Bosmann to name a few.

Start

At the gun, I am off with the leaders, down the one hill at a insanely unsustainable pace. For the next three minutes (1st half mile) I am jamming at the front of the pack, my heart rate and breathing elevating to the uncomfortable. Little by little my pace slows to a more sustainable effort. The fitter leaders separate themselves and by mile one I am left alone in my own Swamp hell, 25 yards ahead of the 8 minute milers, but well behind the 6:30 milers.

My breath is raspy, my legs turning over, on the edge of blowing up. I do not have a watch, but I pass mile 1 and hear a 6:35. I slow a tad more on mile 2 to regulate my breathing back within lactate threshold, but surprisingly no one is passing me. I pick it back up right to the edge of lactate. My legs are churning, my arms are pumping, and air is hard to come by. My body and brain are in sensory overload and cannot process all the feelings. My heart is working 100%, my muscles are firing, I am elated, I am miserably, I am flying, I am looking for a hole to crawl into. The pavement and scenery is flying by. This is the best I can describe running right on the edge. Nirvana is so close, but the Swamp Devil also lurks behind each tree, ready to crash me out of the race with his long webbed wings.

At the mile 3 turnaround I am in severe oxygen debt but not slowing down. I spot Cooner and shout arcane NY Giants pep talk at him. Right behind him is Ellen, and she is breezing along making it look so effortless. I pass two, and three pass me, but generally we are “paced up”. Approaching the mile 5 turnaround at the Meyersville Circle, the leaders are 40 yards apart and motor by running 5:30s. There strides gobble up the ground. I am in awe but am maxed out running slightly over 7 minute pace. Well tim it is way faster than the 7:45s at your half marathons this year at Superhero and Newport Liberty.

But the devil will make sure this effort is going to hurt. I shout out again as I spot Mike and Ellen, staying on their pace and looking solid. At mile 6 I come up on the 3rd and 4th females. I am redlined and tuck in behind for a minute to collect myself and not look like an ass passing the girls only to gget repassed in a minute or two.

At the water station I slam a gel looking for a turbo boost. Gels provide ready burnable energy, like a sparkler, but they also soak up water, leaving your body seeking hydration from other sources such as leeching from your gi track causing cramps or worse from your already water starved and hard working muscles. The Swamp Devil’s ears perk up as his glare pierces out of the foliage.

Within a minute I feel the energy boost coming. Just as in a 5K, everyone is suffering, so you only pass with authority, bluffing strength for 20 seconds even if you are maxed out. I pull out to pass the girls, and jam it for a 20 second split. My heart rate spikes to max, and the bog stirs as the devil readies himself for his prey.

After each pass I slow down a hair to a still borderline redline pace to recovery just enough to allow my heart not to explode out of my chest. My next passs is big John, fresh off a 3:19 marathon at Steamtown. Again I power by for 20 seconds, taunting the Devil again. It is a long flat straight road home. Mile 7 flies by. Then mile 8. Only 1.3 miles to go now. A system warning light illuminates. My breath is ragged, I am running on hot coals, and I still have ten minutes of hell to endure. The light starts blinking in my brain. Damn it! The left hamstring twinges, then it tightens. My elephant uses the warning light to tell my rider to slow down. What to do? Elephant or rider? The elephant logic wins. Despite my effort, my PR is out of reach, so what if I lose 45-90 seconds going in. The worst thing would be for the Devil to tear up my hamstring and prevent a NYC Marathon appearance!

I slow and come to a full stop for a quick hammy stretch on a rail fence post. The 4th and 5th place girls steam back by, and after a ten second stop I chase. But dialing it down and shuffle running to save the hammy does not permit me to gain. The sixth place girl a fit 40s tri girl come up on me. I tell her that she can catch those girls ahead. She hits the gas. I go with her and pass back one of the girls but am holding back now and cautious. Tri girl takes 10 then 20 yards on me.

I cross the nine mile sign right at 65:30. So close. Don’t blow up now! I am going to make it. 100 yards from the finish Big John motors alongside. I accelerate and stay with him for 5 seconds. He shifts to a higher gear, that I am too scared to hit right now. He moves ahead as the tape is in sight. I hear panting behind me. I don’t dare look, but dial it up a notch. I hear the breathing again and as the tape nears I speed up a little more. I hold on and cross in 67:45, 7:15 mile pace, 54th out of 278 finishers. I am on my limit, done-ski, but at a pace 30 seconds a mile faster than the half marathon a month ago. Though not tip top, a solid effort given I ran a 20 miler a week ago too. I look around but the devil has hidden himself back in the shadows.

Epilogue

Ellen passes Cooner at mile 7 and they finish within 30 seconds of each other at sub 8:45s. Great efforts all around! My celebration with them is cut short as Heather and the boys are waiting for me to share this glorious afternoon. Josh and Quinn decide on a 4 mile Great Swamp Hike to search for the elusive Devil Monster. I do not have the heart or the heart beats left to confide in them that I have already stared down the Devil today and emerged, soul intact. As darkness falls, we are still a half mile from the car. “Let’s go” I yell, “the Swamp Devil may get us!”

Lions and Wildebeests

Newport Liberty Half Marathon - September 25, 2010

When in need of a tough training run, scheduling a “training” race serves as a powerful training tool. Many non - runner friends wonder why even race? Meaning why the effort to get up early, drive to a race, and pay to pin on a bib number to go for a run with strangers? Is your ego that lioness that you need to prove yourself versus 2400 people you don’t know of varying abilities? Why not just get up go out your front door, run, and go on with your day?

My short answer is always “motivation”. That is to run your best you need to train hard. To max your training and put out your best effort you need to be motivated. Or simply put, wildebeests runs their fastest with lions tailing their asses!

With two weeks of recovery from the SSH, I am ready to resume my mileage and cardio buildup for the Nov. 7th ING New York Marathon seven weeks out. My training plan calls for a long hard 14-16 miler this weekend. So, the need to get up at 4:30am on Saturday and run from 6am to 8:15 before kiddie soccer, a dreadful proposition. Not a formula for success to run your best by venturing out into the dark chilly air to run a long two hour solo run under streetlights an hour before the dawn light.

Many opportunities for the elephant to better the rider; 1. Will I even get out of bed? 2, maybe sleep in an hour and then just cut the distance in half, or 3 put forth the full mileage but at less than a maximum hard effort that I need. Advantages elephant, that is until my R2C14 relay buddies Jim C. and Ellen D. convince me to run the half marathon with them the next morning on Sunday with a promise to be home by noon, rider up!!

Pre-Race

At 6am Sunday, the cool dawn air foreshadowes an optimal running day for an 8:30am morning race along the Hudson River. I walk down the hill to meet Jim at his house and we pick up Ellen for an easy 30 minute drive to Pavonia/Newport, NJ. Race registration is a breeze, but the 25 port-o-let to 3000 runner ratio mandates alternative olfactory arrangements be made. I lead my crew into the nearby Newport Mall and we locate his and her Newport Odeon Cinema restrooms that are in pristine condition at 7am, but less so by 7:04am upon my departure!

Race Start

The start and lineup on Washington Avenue is as breezy as the waterfront. The gun goes off, and I quickly settle into sub 8 minute mile pace. A minor complaint by the GPS runners is that the course mileage markers are not accurate. Mile one is actually 1.15 miles, so my 8:21 pace is not actually that bad. (In total, the course actually measures more like 13.35, than 13.1 miles.) However, after the GEER 100K that measured 105K or 1.5 miles too long, this slight over distance is no big deal to me!

We finger up Washington Avenue toward Hoboken, and then return to turn right up Grand Street to cross mile three on slightly sub 8 minute pace at 23:45. A system check indicates tingling in my legs and arms, a preliminary indicator of dehydration. In full disclosure, my diet and alcohol intake has not been ideal through September! Jim catches me here and we run together at a taxing but sustainable race effort.

The course navigates the Port Liberty Harbor, shoots behind the Science Center and traverses Ellis Island through the Liberty State Park. The route affords majestic early morning views of the Hudon River, the Statue of Liberty and downtown Manhattan. I cut the most efficient lines through corners and continued motoring on my hard training pace mile after mile, the younger, faster (lion) runners on my beest tail.

Jim maintains contact, but unfortunately I never see him after mile 4 once on the asphalt trail. He says he did not want to “mess with my vibe”, however, I also think he likes being a hunter lion as opposed to the hunted beest!

So, at juat over an hour in at mile 8 my pace is right on redline, or 7:45s similar to my race effort at the Superhero last may. I like to think that the brisk winds, and dehydration impact my pace a bit, but the sun and 70s weather are close to perfect and are probably as much a pace enhancer as the breeze is an inhibiter. With water and skyline views, running the medal is a positive mental process versus a pre-dawn solo training run slogging through miles to “fit them in". I am gassed but glorious as I approach the mile ten aid station at one hour 16 minutes.

5K to Go!

I pause and injest a gel with water for the final 5K push. Ten miles into a solo training run the focus would be to “get home”. But in a race, your focus for the last 5K is “to not slow down and get passed at the end as well as a sub 24 minute 5K”. My inner wildebeest bears down, hits the hammer and maxes it out. As I regain redline, just ahead a cop is preparing to hold up the pace line for the light rail street car to cross. No way Jose, this beest is coming through!

I barrel across the tracks, then careen through the turn down Grand Street to the waterfront. The slight downhill allows me to increase speed and overtake runners. At mile twelve along the water the winds flare as does the left hamstring. Tim, focus!! I know I am close and resort to my mental “hot coals” trick. That is as soon as my foot lands, jerk it up off the firey coals or risk getting burnt. I stay on pace and pass slowing runners through to the finish. The beest has given so much more than in any kind of solo training run.

POST RACE

My 1:41:30 time, same as Superhero, or 7:45 mile pace finishes 365th out of the nearly 2400 finishers. Good strong tempo run for the ING New York in seven weeks! Room for improvement but a solid effort and I am happy. A scan of the results indicates the strength of the runners in the field evidenced by the 152 runners that finish sub 1:33, or seven minute mile pace. Jim comes in on my heels, evidence to his improved training, and Ellen is not long behind us. The wildebeests survives for another day, and we motor home for hearty well earned lunches with our perspective herds!

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!