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^zhurnaly - Random - RecentChanges - Jog Log - Help - RSSAn almost-full moon plays peek-a-boo behind mackerel-sky clouds at 0515 when I set off from home. An hour later I pull onto the side of the road near Weverton Cliffs to await Kate Abbott's arrival. We leave her car there and I drive us to Zittlestown. At 7am our journey commences, past the Old South Mountain Inn onto the gravel path to the Appalachian Trail. At the Taj Mahal of latrines we pause, then run and walk happily and uneventfully along the JFK 50 Miler course. Today's "area fam" exercise is my contribution to Kate's first ultramarathon—as if I need an excuse to go trail running with a nice friend! We get lost only once, for ~20 minutes, when we prematurely turn off the narrow, steeply climbing road to Lambs Knoll and the FAA/antenna facilities. I mistakenly lead Kate up a rugged track to a deer-hunter's blind at a dead end in the woods. We retrace our steps and are soon back on course. No harm done!
Less than 2 hours after starting we begin to hear traffic noises and know Gathland Gap is near. We meet a pair of runners from the Frederick Steeplechasers who are just commencing their own JFK prep session and who invite us to join them on future group runs. We descend into the Gap, where a cheerful road crew is setting up traffic cones. Both soda machines reject my money (one condescends to eat a quarter) but at least the water tap and restrooms here are functional. Onward we go, sucking down energy gels, walking the hills and rocky zones, chatting, greeting a few hikers out this late-season weekday morning, and simply enjoying the day.
After a dozen splendidly uneventful miles, a near-disaster: I come a cropper and break my left arm. Oopsies! Cool-headed Kate keeps an eye on me down the 14 switchbacks of Weverton Cliffs and we reach her car a mile later wiithout further mishap. Our overall time-on-trail is a bit under 4 hours including all stops. My shoulder only twinges when I move it.
I phone my health-care provider, Kaiser Permanente, and as usual the people there are extraordinarily helpful. Soon my arm is in a protective sling and I'm resting comfortably at home. The orthopedist confirms two days later that I've got a fractured humerus, more broken-up than I could see on the x-rays—shattered bits on the outside, the inside, and the "surgical neck" of the bone. It's not too bad, no surgery needed—but no typing with my left hand, no driving, etc. I must keep the arm in the sling and do the gentle exercises the doctor showed me to maintain range of motion, then return in 2 weeks to gauge the status of the healing. Could have been a lot worse!
(cf. 2008-09-26 - WOD Marathon Run, Humerus Fracture (2008-10-15), ...) - ^z - 2008-10-19
(correlates: AddictiveTrope, Bend Sinister, Humerus Fracture, ...)
Mical Honigfort stands with her husband Paul near the starting line of today's 5k cross-country MCRRC race. She's truly radiant, only about six weeks away from her due date. Caren Jew and I are chatting with her. "You're beautiful, you know? Can I tell you a secret that no woman ever believes?" I ask Mical. "Men think that pregnant ladies look absolutely lovely!" As per prediction, both Caren and Mical disbelieve me.
We're at the county Agricultural Historic Farm Park in Derwood. Two hours earlier Caren and I arrive to get some extra miles in before the official event. Fog hangs over the valleys and the stars are bright, but a hint of dawn is beginning to appear in the eastern sky. Our headlamps make glowing circles on the dewey grass. Caren leads me on a loop around the big corn field, then into the woods on a pretty side trail that brings us through meadows where we startle several deer. Our feet get wet at a stream crossing. A trio of horses observes us curiously from the adjacent farm where Caren showed her own horse many years ago.
Back at the park headquarters an hour later set-up is beginning for the "Little Bennett's Revenge" 5k XC race. "Just put us down for 25 minutes!" I tell the officials there. Caren and I trot past them and down a gravel road, following what turns out to be today's course. It's already marked with little orange flags and traffic cones. We cross a wooden bridge to another huge corn field, turn left, and at my challenge run up a big hill, continue along a quarter mile, reverse course, and finish up by tagging our respective cars at 8am.
We greet Ken Swab, Michelle Price, and other friends, then go inside the building to sign up for the race. I snag a cup of water and several chocolate chip cookies. Back outside I find Christina Caravoulias and her friend Houra Rais. Chris takes photos of flower gardens and various runners. At the starting signal Christina and Houra and I take our places near the back of the mass. The race flows uneventfully as I chatter away, much to Houra's amusement. We finish together in a bit over 37 minutes, but speculate (as do others) that the course may be a tad short.
^z - 2008-10-17
(correlates: BirdWhile, FocusAndFanout, HerodotusOnThePersianPost, ...)
Brother Keith sends a package of goodies for my birthday, including a squeeze pouch of exotic orange "Enervitine" energy drink. Early Saturday morning I suck down a dose after jogging from home 2+ miles to Candy Cane City. Does it help? Hard to say, but for whatever reason it's a great day to run, cool and crisp, fog over Ray's Meadow, dew on the grass by the ballfields. Ken Swab appears and we wait a while, then phone CM who turns out not to be joining us this morning. So Ken and I trot 1.5 miles along Rock Creek Trail, upstream to the high trestle and back.
It's now 8am and the MCRRC Saturday morning trail run led by Jane Godfrey is about to start. The group's normal speed is significantly faster than my training pace, but folks pause at intervals for Ken and me to catch up. We take the Western Ridge Trail to the Rock Creek Park Nature Center, then cross the hill to Beach Drive and return to our start via the Valley Trail plus side branches for extra climb/descent. Conversation tends toward current politics. Total distance ~7.5 miles.
Today's theme song playing inside my head is "Take the Long Way Home". Instead of proceeding directly back to my house I continue up Rock Creek, again passing the trestle. At Winkler's Meadow are two lost souls, one with a video camera, looking for "a playground near a swamp". After some head-scratching I figure out what they want and direct them northward. Near the side-trail to the Audubon Society, suddenly Mark McKennett and Michele Price materialize, blasting along as they train for the tough Mountain Masochist 50 miler coming in three weeks. I take Ireland Dr to the unofficial Woodstock Rd trail and jog from there back to my starting point, hoping that the GPS I carry will record 15 miles. It's a wee bit short.
(correlates: 2008-07-12 - Candy Cane Trail Run, CountrySightsAndSounds, SmallIdeas, ...)
Four days after Andiamo and I feel the urge to blow the dust out the pipes. We need eggs and butter; the coöp is a couple of miles away; what to do but jog to market? I follow neighborhood roads Sharon, Hale, Linden, and Warren to Brookville, where on a whim I cut through the back of the industrial park onto local lanes that zig-zag along the eastern side of the train tracks. Signs say that the little one-lane wooden bridge at Talbot St is closed, but a jogger whom I ask says that it's ok for runners, just not cars. I take it to cross the railroad line and meander back to Grubb Rd, spend 5 minutes at the store picking up the two items I sought, and then take the more-conventional streets back homeward. A light drizzle starts and the parking lot at the synagogue is full—it's Yom Kippur. I have much to atone for, as my twinging left metatarsals and right hip remind me.
^z - 2008-10-11
(correlates: 2004-11-11 - Lockout, ConfoundedConflation, UncivilServants, ...)
 (the green line is the trail; elevation profile and map are courtesy of the Friends of the W&OD Trail) | At about mile 40 the horse begins to smell the barn. My mental arithmetic powers are virtually shot, but looking at my watch I see that I may be able to break 9 hours—if I can crank up my pace to ~11 minutes/mile. The old legs are stiffening but not yet cramping. So I cut back walk breaks to 30 seconds every few minutes, take an electrolyte capsule, suck down an energy gel, drink remaining water, blast downhills, power-walk uphills, punch crosswalk buttons impatiently at traffic lights ... and as the graph shows, close out the Andiamo 2008 with my fastest splits of the day, including a last-mile 9:51. I finish in 8:56:27, sixth place of 13 starters. |
Andiamo means "Let's go!" in Italian. It's also the name of a race, the full length of the Washington & Old Dominion Trail. The W&OD was originally a railroad, so the trail is reasonably straight and reasonably level, making the Andiamo a reasonably easy ultramarathon—if any ultra can be said to be "easy". Its length is variously estimated as 44.6 miles, 44.7 miles, 44.82 miles, or "about 45 miles".
The Virginia Happy Trails Running Club sponsors the Andiamo in alternate years, so last month when I chance to see it mentioned I have to decide quickly whether to try it. Sure, I'm undertrained. Official support along the course is minimal. Only a handful of people do the event, so most participants are alone most of the time. Finishers get only a round of applause and an Andiamo pin or patch. Hmmm—all that sounds pretty good! And the icing on the tiramisu: the entry fee is only $10—less than 25¢ per mile. Who could resist?
The 13th Andiamo attracts 15 entrants, of whom 13 line up to start at 7:31am in Purcellville VA. Race Directors Carolyn Gernand and Joe Malinowski give a quick pre-brief, the essence of which is "Follow the trail!" Official aid is planned near miles 6, 11, 17, and 25. There might be an impromptu aid station around mile 36, or then again maybe not. As the official web page warns, "ALL OTHER AID WILL BE THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE RUNNER." Near the trail are convenience stores and occasional water fountains.
So I'm toting $7, a cellphone, two water bottles, half a dozen energy gels and a dozen electrolyte capsules. I fill the pockets of my fluorescent pink shorts with root beer barrel candies and ginger chews that friend Mary Ewell gave me. Just in case, I also bring ibuprofen and antihistamine tablets, a folded up paper towel (in case of dire emergency), and a tiny tin of petroleum jelly. Fortunately today I only need the last, to grease delicate parts of my chest when they start to chafe.
Race Plan: start at the back of the pack, walk/jog at a comfortable 13-14 minute/mile pace, and try to finish in 10 hours, safely within the 11 hour time limit. Soon my scheme is left abandoned by the trailside. Jim Cavanaugh, coming back from knee surgery, has given three of us a ride to Purcellville from the finish line where we parked our cars at 6am. Everyone else in the car has done at least one 100 miler, so the conversation during our nearly-an-hour drive is fascinating. Dan Rose is running the Andiamo as a tune-up for the upcoming national 24-hour competition in Texas. Today he hopes to make 8 min/mile (and in fact does, winning the race at an average 7:52 pace). Lou Jones moseyed through the woods with me for the first loop of the New Year's Day Red Eye 50k 2008. I remind him of his wise ultramarathon advice to me: "You just have to not quit!" He chuckles.
So when the trio of sexagenarians Jim, Lou, and Paul Dwyer canter away, how can I hang back? I chat with Clarence Wilson Jr. briefly, but when he slows I catch up with the threesome. (Clarence finishes the Andiamo with a net pace just over 15 min/mi.) We pass the official 44.5 milepost in 1 minute 22 seconds by my watch, and continue together at about 12 min/mi pace for the first half dozen miles. Jim follows the parallel gravel horse trail whenever possible; I accompany him if it seems fairly level, but otherwise stick to the asphalt-paved bike path or its grassy shoulder. Lou and Paul chatter as I draft behind them. (Paul later drops from the race; Lou cruises through at an average ~14.5 min/mi.)
At the first aid station, the back end of a VTHRC pick-up truck, Jim Cavanaugh turns back; he wasn't signed up to race, needs to let his knee heal, and in any case can't abandon his vehicle in Purcellville. Volunteers fill my bottle with Gatorade, I grab a fistful of cookies and chips, then blast off. Lou and Paul follow shortly behind. I trot at 12-13 min/mi and shortly thereafter they're out of sight.
All's peaceful now as I cruise solo through Leesburg. The aid station at mile 11 is a welcome opportunity to refill and refuel. Soon I'm on terra cognita, the part of the trail that Mary and I ran together a few months ago (cf. 2008-07-19 - WOD Trail Trek). Cyclists, skaters, walkers, and joggers are increasingly common now. At mile 13 I literally "hit the wall"—more precisely, I reach out and slap the ancient stone structure that abuts the trail here, where Kate Abbott and Alyssa Duble and I turned back on our training expedition Friday a week ago (cf. 2008-09-26 - WOD Marathon Run).
A few miles later a lady in a lime-green shirt runs toward me, smiles, and says, "Hi Mark!" I do a double-take: it's Mary Ewell, and in my zoned state I didn't recognize her. (Duh!) She materializes bearing gifts: a gluten-free chocolate brownie, a big bottle of Zelectrolyte, and best of all her pleasant company. We run side-by-side for an hour, bantering and teasing one another: I thank Mary repeatedly and profusely for coming out to see me; in turn she apologizes repeatedly and profusely for leading me along at too fast a pace during our multiple sub-12 minute miles together. (Little do we know that this turns out to be the perfect pace for me today.) We visit with volunteers at the mile 22 VHTRC aid station and accept their kind offer of ice for our bottles. The plastic bag from Mary's brownie serves me for the next 20 miles to carry chips, cookies, candy, and empty wrappers. We discuss meditation, medicine, wine, and upcoming race plans. At Route 28 (the W&OD milepost 24, about mile 20.6 of the race) we shake hands. Mary turns back toward her home, and I stride onward. (Pssst: thank you, Mary!)
I catch up with James Moore, another multi-Andiamo veteran now in his 60's and still going strong. We talk a bit and then part ways. Near mile 26 I overtake Niki Evans and John Acker. One is from Wales and the other grew up locally. Neither has run beyond 13 miles before. I salute their daring and offer them my standard unsolicited advice for succeeding at an ultra (walk! eat! drink! enjoy the day!), then congratulate them as we pass the 26.2 mile point—their first marathon. I inform them that we're in 7th, 8th, and 9th place at this point. They admire my facial hair and confess that they're carrying fake beards to put on as they approach the finish line, so they can claim to have grown them during the long journey. We laugh together, and I bid them farewell.
Since Andiamo means "Let's Go" the classic-rock song of the same name by The Cars is rattling around inside my cranium. Fighting it for top billing is the Supertramp hit "Take the Long Way Home", heard on the radio this morning. Meanwhile I'm attending to my breathing, feeling my footfalls, and generally trying to remain mindful. I take advantage of every opportunity to run in the shade of trailside trees, since I know I'm going to come out of the day with a sunburn and I want to minimize it.
At mile 28 the first and only potential crisis of the day materializes. I've drunk half of my water and at Sunset Hills Rd in Reston I approach the fountain that I'm counting on for a refill. It's broken! My hope now rests on conserving fluids, running gently, and making it to the next oasis without dehydration. I think it's 4 miles ahead, but I'm confused: it turns out to be almost 5. During the hour I drain my last bottle dry and try not to panic. Thankfully soon, the number of pram-pushers and kids riding bikes with training wheels increases significantly. I tell myself that the town is near.
Then the crowds thicken, and I hear music. It's Oktoberfest, a mammoth street festival! The water fountain at the Vienna W&OD station is working fine, so I refill both bottles, take an e-cap and a gel, drink deeply, and thread my way through the throngs. At highway 123 I wait for the cars to stop and then hasten across. More major road crossings for the next several miles slow me down, but I make up the time in between. Having water in hand is good.
At the start of the Andiamo I spoke briefly with Paul Ammann, one of my many marathon mentors (cf. UltraMan, Injury Avoidance, ...). He's far faster than I am; I never expected to see him again. But suddenly, somehow, Paul catches up with me. What happened? He explains that he stopped for 20 minutes back at the Oktoberfest to stand in line for a beer with a friend! Paul shows me the red band around his wrist, proof that he's old enough to drink. I bemoan the fact that I'm not carrying an ID and with my luck would have been carded. Paul looks at my gray beard and suggests gently that that is rather improbable. As we run together he tells me about the grapes and raspberries and other good things to eat along the W&OD Trail, and reassures me that an aid station is shortly ahead. He's right. I refuel quickly and run onward while he stays to visit with comrades there. But soon Paul catches up with me, chats some more, then zips ahead out of sight. (I next see him at the finish line, where mysteriously he comes in a few minutes after me; he took another break later on at a convenience store.)
Now with only a handful of miles to go I get excited. Earlier today I upgraded my goal from 10 hours to 9.5, then 9.25—and now it looks as though I can break 9 hours, provided I push hard and don't go off course. The W&OD here has confusing branches where the Custis Trail and the Four Mile Run Trail diverge and converge. I focus, watch for signs and markers, and somehow manage not to get lost. My legs start to stiffen but I ward off cramps by dosing myself with more electrolytes and energy gels. The miles count down rapidly and now my chief fear is being stuck at a road crossing. Mercifully those delays are brief.
As the chart shows, my final miles are my fastest ones. A small hill looms. I see familiar-looking cars parked on the street nearby—the end is just beyond the crest. Over the top I stride. RDs Carolyn and Joe rise from their lounge chairs, take a photo of my triumphant moment, and award me an Andiamo finisher's pin. Carolyn tells me that I'm sixth today, which astounds me since I never make it into the top half of an event. This must be an aberration, a statistical fluke due to the small number of entrants. I stay to drink a soda, thank the volunteers picnicking nearby, admire the cute three-month-old baby whom I saw at the starting line, phone friends and family to tell them the good news, and then head for home. (Comrade Kate called about an hour ago to offer help, but I never hear the phone ring.) I'm tired and happy. And I can even walk down stairs the next day without more than minor wincing. (^_^)
(see Andiamo 2008 results on [1] and photos on [2]) - ^z - 2008-10-07
(correlates: LapisMouse, 2004-11-10 - WOD Luncheon, DetectiveWork, ...)
 (photo by Ken Trombatore; click for original) | "Tainted Love? That's Soft Cell, not Depeche Mode!" Caren corrects me as we run along. The tune is today's earworm, on heavy rotation in my head since 6:30am this morning when I heard it on the radio. Humidity is high today, and by this point in the race my singlet is gleaming wet with perspiration. |
"You look great!" I tell Mical Honigfort, who in her seventh month is suddenly looking "great with child"—after beating me by several minutes in the last two MCRRC races. Today she's a volunteer race official at the Lake Needwood cross-country 10k, and she's lovely, glowing. So are the rest of us, a few minutes later as CM Manlandro and Caren Jew and I trot along the course for half an hour before the main event.
As we head for the starting line Don Libes notices my soggy singlet and asks, "Is that sweat?" I inform him that I've moved the flags and ribbons that mark the race route. "Just run past anything that looks like a barrier—you'll be the only one on course then!" He doesn't fall for it, alas, and sprints ahead with CM. She reports that Don initially believes this to be a 5k race, and appears rather shocked when he discovers the truth near the halfway point.
Meanwhile, Caren and I proceed to run with Megan Carroll, who chats with me about various movies and TV series that we've each found amusing. Megan is ramping up her training and is also coming back from last weekend's tough Womens Half Marathon. She begins to flag after a couple of miles and tells me to go on ahead. But I inform her that, as per the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland (or in the spell to summon Beetlejuice) she must tell me three times to make it true.
"I release you, I release you, I release you!" Megan chants. So I wish her well and accelerate to catch up with Caren. She and I hang together for the rest of the race. As we cross the dam at the end of Lake Needwood and come down the final hill Caren points out her husband Walter and their daughters Ashley and Jenna. We wave, then sprint toward the finish line to come in at 1:12:10, a bit faster than my 12:00+ pacer shirt's promise.
During our cooldown walk we visit with Don Libes and his daughter Kenna, who is currently racing shorter distances. I admire her orange-and-blue "classic" MCRRC-design running shorts—I'm wearing women's shorts of the same pattern. Kenna tells me that hers are men's shorts. We decide, however, not to trade today.
(cf. Jog Log ...) - ^z - 2008-10-05
(correlates: At My Pace, 2008-07-11 - MidSummer Night's Mile, HuntingSeason, ...)
A clue: Kate Abbott's worst marathon result is 10 minutes faster than my best marathon! A hint: Alyssa Duble is even faster. A question: why am I running long with these ladies? Answers:
So, unable to say "No!", today I accompany K&A on the first two-thirds of their 40-mile training excursion. I keep up, just barely, at their sub-12 min/mile pace. We cover a marathon distance in 5:05. Whew!
A rainy night dawns cool and damp. On Friday at 8am we meet at Reston Town Center near milepost 18.5 of the W&OD Trail. We strap on fuel-bottle belts, tie extra clothes around our waists in case of hypothermia, and set off westwards. The conversation is fun and wide-ranging. From the start I lay the groundwork for dropping out early: "I need to get home to my family." ... "I have to go to the office this afternoon." ... "The traffic will be horrible for me to get home." ... "You're going too fast for me." ... "I'm getting dehydrated." ... and so forth. All true!
Of course, I'm tempted a few times to keep going—40 miles has a nice ring to it—but then I come to my senses. I persuade K&A to modify their initial plan to do 10 miles out, 10 back to the cars, then repeat. We proceed past the quarry overlook that Mary Ewell showed me last year (cf. AwesomeAdonis) and turn around at 2:32.5 when both GPS units say 13.1 miles, in agreement with the mile markers. We pause at portajohns, water fountains, and vending machines. During the return journey young Alyssa runs far ahead of Kate and me, eventually out of sight. As we approach our starting point she returns—Kate has their car key. I stop my watch at 5:05—by chance we've averaged almost perfectly level splits. I donate some electrolyte capsules and antihistamines from my cache, wish the women well for their next 14 miles, and abandon them.
(cf. Jog Log ...) - ^z - 2008-10-03
(correlates: PerversityPrinciple, HaveToLaugh, ExplorersClub, ...)
Great blue heron stands erect in water up to her thighs, tail just brushing the surface of the C&O Canal here in Carderock. Turns her head a few degrees to keep an eye on me as I jog by. No sign of fish. Half a mile down the towpath another blue heron stands identically tall, identically still, upside-down reflection knife-sharp on the stagnant water.
The office picnic is still going strong, but at 2pm I prepare to leave and 10 minutes later I'm running. Wife has left car at the University of Maryland, daughter finishes orchestra at 6:30pm, and I'm not quite sure how long it will take me to get there. Google Maps has a new "Walking" option which suggests a good strategy to save 5 miles relative to the freeway drive. So down the C&O Canal I head, to Glen Echo and then Bethesda via Goldsboro Rd. From there, after a short trek along the Capital Crescent Trail it's East-West Hwy all the way to Riggs Rd and then campus via University Blvd. Pretty simple, though as it turns out sidewalks are absent on major segments and shoulders of busy streets are scary-narrow.
Good preparation: at the picnic I drink two or three cans of soda water and a glass of ale (don't tell the Park Service!) to get pre-hydrated. Then I fill my bottle with another can of pop, dilute it with water, and shake it to get rid of the carbonation.
Bad preparation: at the picnic I eat a veggie burger on a bun thickly slathered with BBQ sauce, along with chips, potato salad, and fruit. Oh, plus some cornbread. And three desserts. But they were small servings, and at least I avoid the beans and cole slaw!
But the excess food sits in my stomach and weighs me down for much of the journey. I walk almost all the hills—there are many—and take additional walk breaks on level terrain. The trip begins on the same stretch of the C&O where the DC Road Runners Club held its age-handicapped on 2008-07-04 (cf. Patient Companionship). It takes me half an hour to reach the brown pedestrian bridge over the canal that leads me along the eastern bank of Cabin John Stream under various parkway roads to Glen Echo in about half an hour. It's the same path that Christina and I ran during the DCRRC "Bread Run" (cf. LightningCrashes) on 2007-12-09.
Goldsboro Rd is a series of long climbs which eventually takes me past the golf course to Bradley Blvd, from which I climb the steep stairs to the CCT 40 minutes later. I refill my bottle at the Bethesda fountain and in 10 minutes I'm on East-West Hwy. For the next 1.5 hours I'm still on it, progressing through Silver Spring and Takoma Park. I pause at a National Tire and Battery store where a friendly clerk directs me to the water fountain in the customer lounge. I'm tempted to try to take a short cut along the high-tension power line right-of-way, but resist. Once I reach Riggs Rd and follow it to University Blvd the end is near: I see the UM campus in the distance.
Half an hour later, total time 3:27, I touch the door of the music building and stop my watch. I'm almost an hour ahead of the deadline—whew!
(cf. Jog Log ...) - ^z - 2008-10-01
(correlates: BabySteps, DavidNewsom, 2007-09-19 - Paint Branch Trot, ...)
A mysterious brick-red step-pyramid looms in the distance above fields of corn and soybeans. It looks like the ruins of a great castle, with ragged gaps in what were once proud towers and daunting battlements. But as the sun rises and the light changes the castle transforms, gradually, into what it really is: a neolithic mountain of hay-bales, stacked to the sky on the crest of a hill.
Christina Caravoulias and I are at a farm near Westminister MD for the 26th annual Bachman Valley Half Marathon today. This race is so cost-effective at $8 pre-registration fee that I can't possibly resist. Besides, it's a chance to run for a few hours with a good friend along country lanes—what's not to like? So we leave Chris's home at 5:25am and cruise cautiously northward, chatting while watching out for stray deer. Strands of fog linger above a pond near the course. We stop and take photos, then drive on, park on the grass as directed by volunteers, sign in, visit with friends, and as 0730 approaches line up on the road for the Race Director to send us away.
"The 'E' on our bibs means Elite!" I tell a fellow early starter. There are only seven of us: a mother and two daughters doing their first half marathon together, a pair of dressed-in-black ladies, and Christina plus me. The rest of the flock prefer to begin at 8am. Black cows graze in the fields and horses lift their heads to watch us pass by. It's a cool morning, with a last-quarter moon sailing high overhead behind a spray of cirrus clouds.
My quads and left hip ITB are a wee bit tight after yesterday's trail run, and this distance is a bit of a stretch for Christina, so neither of us plan to go fast. We both survived the Parks Half Marathon last Sunday under crushing humidity and heat. Today begins with far gentler weather, a temperature rising from 50°F into the 70s and a dew point pleasantly fixed near 50. The big issue for us is the sun, since the course is largely unshaded. Our first lap goes well, as cheerful volunteers greet us at every corner and the aid stations offer water, pretzels, candy, and occasional energy gels. I try a "Honey Stinger" gel packet and find the granular texture distracting but the sweet flavor pleasant. A sample of "Power Bar" cola-flavored "Gel Blast" gummy-bear-like candies is likewise fun, but unengaging in comparison to the salty pretzels. At every opportunity I take two or three and wear them on my fingers like rings until I eat them.
Lap two is tougher, but Chris continues to challenge the hills and we accelerate to a strong finish together. Our splits: 12:59 + 12:42 + 12:09 + 12:22 + 11:55 + 12:07 + 12:38 + 11:39 + 13:49 + 13:10 + 14:07 + 12:52 + 13:00 + 1:01 (final 0.1 mile dash) — for a total 2:46:30 time by my watch.
(cf. Jog Log) - ^z - 2008-09-29
(correlates: 2 Comments on 2008-09-21 - Bachman Valley Half Marathon, OnAcclimation, 2008-08-16 - Comus Run 2008, ...)
"Are you cuckoo...?" I start to ask, then hesitate, trying to remember the name of the Race Director. The guys standing behind the registration table smile at me but offer no help. "Cuckoo ... cuckoo ... uh, Cucuzzella?" I finally get out.
"We're all cuckoo!" one replies, and then points me toward Chris Cucuzzella, RD for the Gunpowder Keg Fat Ass run today. I shake his hand and thank him for organizing the event. Gunpowder Falls State Park near Hereford MD is as lovely this year as it was at the 2007 race but today's temperatures are 30°F cooler—and that makes a gigantic difference in comfort and performance.
An hour later, friend Mary Ewell exclaims, "I'm steaming!". At the first aid station she pauses to point out fog rising from her shoulders, visible in the rays of sunlight that peek between the trees. I move around until I can see the mist streaming off me too. We both remember our JFK 2007 Preparation run of 20 October last year when we saw the same phenomenon at dawn in Rock Creek Park. Our day began early, as Mary left her home and picked me up for the long ride to the park. Before the start we greet Megan, Michelle, and other running acquaintances.
RD Chris apologizes for the water-only minimalist aid station today, but a personal emergency has preempted a key volunteer. But hey, it's a "Fat Ass" race, so Rule One is "No Whining!". Mary and I donate to the kitty that Chris is collecting for the park (he raises several hundred dollars today) and place our jugs of water among the dozens others have brought to share.
Then we're off, trailing along at the back of the pack, enjoying the lovely day. Half a mile later I trip on a tree root and take a dive—oopsies! Fortunately the result is only a scraped knee and a little blood, but no major damage.
A mile farther down the trail we meet young Heidi, bent over as though she's about to vomit. We offer her sympathy as well as her choice from everything we're carrying: water, electrolytes, ibuprofen, anithistamines, candy, etc. "Water!" is her choice, and after a few sips she feels much better and starts to walk/run with us over the hills. Heidi is just out of college, she tells us, and is now a teacher dedicated to working with autistic children, thinking about going back to school to get an advanced degree. Last night she was up a bit late partying, she confesses, and perhaps that's what upset her stomach. Soon she's recovered and runs on ahead.
Mary and I catch up with Paula near mile 4, and I debate with her which of us is slower. (Evidence shows that I am!) Then we introduce ourselves to Gail, who turns out to have run the VHTRC Women's Half Marathon last weekend in a time surprisingly close to Mary's—small world! Onward we trek, chatting together for a while until Gail outpaces us. Karen of the MCRRC greets us later at the tiny aid station as our paths intersect there. The out-and-back loop course offers us many such opportunities to see faster runners.
Mary and I are happy campers, walking and jogging through the woods, until alas at mile 9ish when Mary's turn comes: she trips on a twig, falls, scrapes one hip, bruises a muscle, and twists the other knee and hip. Arggghhhh! At her insistence we carry on, walking more now, but decide to skip the middle out-and-back 2.5 mile circuit during our second major orbit of the 10-mile course.
At mile 15 we hear a voice calling us: it's Gail again, standing in the middle of the Gunpowder Falls! "Falls" means "river" in the local parlance, and Gail is hip-deep in the water near the ruins of an old bridge, cooling off her tired muscles. The start/finish campground is directly across from us. We're tempted to take the invitation and save a couple of miles, but Mary decides that "17+" sounds better than "15" and her injuries aren't too bad.
So onward we go, through seas of grass. Two-by-twelve boards, placed over drainage ditches beneath the high Interstate-83 bridges, bounce and teeter as we cross them. Just under 5 hours we cross the "finish" line. RD Chris logs us out and accepts our thanks. Tim Gavin, new HAT Run race director, greets me; he's recovering on the gate of his pickup truck after doing 50 kilometers in the same time it took Mary and me to do about half of that. I salute him.
During the drive up to Gunpowder Falls I play with Mary's car's GPS system, without much success. On the way home she lets me mess with her radio during an unexpected traffic jam, likewise without luck in terms of finding useful information. Soon we pass the local accident, however, and all's well again. We stop at a Wendy's to get some quick food.
After hearing a fragment of CCR's "Proud Mary" we start discussing song with "Mary" in them—Mary knows them all—which leads us to reminisce about our favorite show tunes. In chorus we sing "Maria" from "West Side Story" together as we cruise the Baltimore Beltway. It's a happy day.
| split | time | mile | location | 2007 split |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0:51 | 0:51 | ~3.5 | mini-aid station (first time) | 0:49 |
| 0:35 | 1:26 | ~6 | mini-aid station (looping back) | 0:36 |
| 0:55 | 2:21 | ~10 | start/finish (lap one) | 0:53 |
| 0:07 | 2:28 | - | pause to eat/drink | - |
| 0:59 | 3:27 | ~13.5 | mini-aid station | 1:00 |
| 1:00 | 4:27 | ~17.5 | start/finish (lap two) | 0:53 |
What I ate: at the major start/finish aid station, potato chips, two donuts (a chocolate-topped glazed and an old-fashioned sour cream), cookies, animal crackers, half a boiled potato dipped in salt, etc. En route I take two Succeed! e-caps plus a Clif Shot gel and a ginger chew Mary gives me.
(cf. Gunpowder Keg Fat Ass 2007 and Jog Log ...) - ^z - 2008-09-26
(correlates: Gunpowder Keg Fat Ass 2007, PeripheralPunditry, ElusivePimpernel, ...)