Who says all the drama has to take place during the race?!
Locally, Mother Nature has been a bit fickle this spring. She has started the spring thaw, took it back, dumped more ice/sleet/snow, thaw, snow, thaw, etc. She knows exactly what she's doing - messing with we runners' minds. However, we had seen a promising stretch of warmer weather were much of the snow cover in the area had gone away. It was looking like the 2013 Traverse City Trail Festival series would be fun spring run down muddy but mostly snow free trails. The Festival's agenda had a 10k relay Friday the 12 and an 11k, a 25k, and a 50k for the morning of Saturday the 13th.
Mother Nature deemed otherwise. Almost as if on queue to my having I received the email laying out the race course, she flipped on the ice/snow machine once again. Maybe she did it because the week before the race I had the audacity to train on the very same snow covered trails that would host the 25k loop; who's to say? Many of use watched the Festival's Facebook page like stranded airline passengers - knowing what might happen, hoping it wouldn't, fretting. She'd have her way despite the best hopes. One morning I awoke to 2" solid inches of super heavy, wet snow forced all the area schools to close due to a school bus driving off the road into a ditch. That would later be followed by two full days of rain. The Thursday before the race and ice/sleet storm that closed schools for Friday. Despite all this, the most determined of we runners knew, deep down, we'd run almost as if in the face of whatever Mother Nature threw at us. We are, afterall, runners!
Then, it came, the next update from the organizers. Anyone running the 25k and 50k we'd already received word that the courses had to be modified due to the conditions; as a matter of fact, they'd been modified twice before. However, this one caused hearts to sink. "With deepest regret we must announce that, due to the trail conditions and impassable roads, we must cancel the 25 and 50k races." I was deeply disappointed, not overly surprised, but disappointed. They'd offered to let those registered runners join the 11k race that morning. I resolved myself to this fact and even posted something to my timeline to that effect. Stopping around in frustration and disappointment wouldn't solve anything. Following the race's Facebook feed they received a number of retorts, people saying they'd be willing to run loops, etc.
I was disappointed. 25k would be a new distance for me. I knew I could do it but also know there is something different about running the distance in training versus during a race. What is that difference exactly? Frankly, its difficult to pin point except to say, it feels different or simply reaches a different part of a person's psyche. 11k? Yeah, I'd do it. I paid for it. The start/finish line was 1/2 mile from my house. There'd be a local brewery serving beer at the end of the race. I'd be there.
I was driving the 3 hours back home from a professional conference I had been attending for the last two days when I received an email notification from my phone. I didn't even check it right away, I was driving after all. However, when I did, I was excited to see the subject line, "25 and 50k races back on!" You're kidding me, right?! I'd already given in to run the 11k. This shifting of the mental gears is not easy on a guy whom was prepared to run nearly 16 miles, then less than half that distance; now, back to nearly 16 miles?! The organizers listened to their registrants, checked the course and decided to offer anyone interested in running a long 5k loop the options of running laps to meet their distance. Well, I was back in. I'd trained for it, I was going to do it.
Saturday morning I got up and had my ritual bagel and single cup of coffee. I'd tossed and turned all night thinking about the race and a professional opportunity that has come up. 4 hours sleep is not conducive to a good feeling about putting in a long run. However, I was excited and eager; I was about to do it - 25-freakin'-k, man! For me, a monster of a distance. My longest previous run was nearly that but remember, there is something different about doing it in a race. I let my wife know I was leaving and stepped out the door. I walked a few hundred yards then ran the rest of the way to the starting area. 10 minutes to spare. The usual doubts began to creep in. Did I warm up too early? Should I have done a loosen up run the night before? Have I prehydrated and prefueled properly? This an other random things. If it wasn't for the announcer calling all remaining runners to the starting I'd probably sapped myself mentally standing right there. I was ready, willing, and present. Let's get the show going.
The race announcements consisted of the usual, and admission that the 5k loop was more like 3.3 - 3.4 miles, and the night before conditions were best described as sloppy. This worried me. I had taken my recently retired running shoes and turned them into screw-shoes but that doesn't help with wet and sloppy snow. Oh well, I was at the starting line and I was rolling with it. I had already decided this one was for fun, not speed. It was with the announcers, "is this everyone," that I looked around. 23 runners total - 10 men, 13 women. That is all. Only 9 people had shown up for the start of the 50k and they were 30 minutes into their first lap. This would not be a crowded race. We shuffled to the start line for the anticlimactic, "Ready, set, GO" from the announcer. No bullhorn, not starting gun, just that simple, "Go!"
The group moved together across the starting line and I was immediately struck how fast they all seemed to be going! After about a quarter mile I checked my Garmin and saw that there was no way possible I'd keep up that pace, somewhere between 9 and 9:30 for those at the back of the pack. I decided to settle back and just let them go. This was a race against myself, after all. I was just going to have fun.
The pack quickly left three of us behind and we settled into an 11 minute pace pretty quickly. The two ladies I ran with were comfortable, chatting back and forth. I, too, was comfortable and offered a chatter when appropriate. I was more focused on just learning the course as I would have four more laps after this first one. The first thing I noted was how the "slop" had apparently refroze from the night before. The organizers had a trail groomer out and made good work of any ruts that may have resulted from previous foot traffic. There simply weren't any. Just fairly level, crunchy snow. I could handle this! The course was gorgeous, enhanced by a still falling snow. It was around 31 degrees and overcast at the start of the race, not bad for a mid-January day. Yes, this was taking place on April 13th but if it were mid-January, it'd been nice. The trail wound through the woods with some smallish hills for the first kilometer then crossed under some rather angry sounding high tension power lines. They buzzed steadily in a rather unsettling manner as we ran under them. I'd quickly learn these were important landmarks as the loop passed under them twice, the second time marking the approximate half way point. Just beyond the first passing of the power lines the trail re-entered the woods and dumped us out in another opening and along a treeline. This would be the longest and biggest hill of the course, yet very manageable with its gradual slope. Eventually another right turn and we entered the woods yet again, snow still crunchy underfoot. A few wet spots but the previous runners' foot prints made it clear where the solid ground was, and at least in once humorously obvious incident, wasn't.
The trail wound back and forth through snow covered pine trees. Big snowflakes feel, strangely soothing and comforting, as another band of lake effect snow moved through the area. The cardinals and chickadees were singing. Occasionally we'd startle a blue jay into crying out a warning. It was a beautiful place to run. The trail eventually led us back under the high tension lines again where the biggest and wettest pitfall was to be found. Even at that it was not difficult to navigate around. We'd seen a few other runners go by, fast 50 k'ers but the three of us had long since lost the main group. I was ok with it. I was out here beating those demons that live inside us formerly unhealthy and unfit people. I was doing it.
Eventually the first lap drew to it's end as we re-entered the campground area that was hosting the event. Very few spectators were there to cheer anyone one. Here was the only aid station and I choose to bypass it this lap, I was doing great, and I kept pace with my two running mates whom I didn't actually know. I was feeling strong and had found that comfortable pace.
Lap two was pretty much a repeat of the first. Those sometimes awkward moments when running, somewhat uninvited, at the same pace of two other runners you don't know; but, they are polite and equally excited to be out there so sharing those moments giving you all a connection that is unique to these events. I wasn't quite fast enough to feel comfortable giving it some more gas this early yet not wanting to kick it back at all yet either. The occasional, "don't let us hold you back" comment tempting me to just go ahead and put some distance between us. However, I just kept pace and made a point to not try to run shoulder to shoulder on the fairly narrow path. It was at the end of this second lap and quick stop at the aid station for water that I left them behind. They simply took more time to breath and get water. However, my motivation now as to not be the last human body in the 25k race to cross the finish line. I didn't see the pair again until after the race where they smiled and said "Good job!" and commented on how they'd "lost me."
Lap 3 was ran a bit overly ambitious on my part. My heart rate monitor had been averaging about 150 for the first two laps, higher than I'd liked but not unmanageable. In this lap I was averaging closer to 160 to 165 as the miles ticked away at sub-11 minute miles. I knew, once I came back around to the aid station I needed to slow down or it was going to be a long run to the finish in two more laps.
Lap 4 was spent mainly encouraging other runners as we crossed paths. I caught and passed two other runners, 50k'ers I assume. They didn't look good but assured me they were ok. Two more spectators turned up along the path and engaged in encouraging words saying "we expect to see you throw the hammer down on the next lap!" It was encouraging and I had to fight to not pick up the speed too much. Shortly after I turned mile 10 and decided I should pull out a gel. I managed to somehow drop the gel just in front of my next foot fall, whereupon my foot stepped squarely onto the package and split the side. I laughed it off sarcastically, I would not be defeated! I stopped, picked it up noting the stiffness that was setting in, and proceeded to down the remainder of the gel. And a special note to my running friends - Hammer Gel is STICKY on running gloves and all the fuzzies from inside will thus find your hand, and cling there, after you remove your glove. Just saying. When the camp ground came into sight, I was thankful to know I was almost there. I was beating this distance.
Lap 5, that final lap, was a demon unto itself. I knew I'd be entering new mileage territory for my body. I knew I should be tired, and was but wasn't feeling it much yet. I knew I should lay it all out there for that last 5k but I was still worried about finishing. I shouldn't be but knowing it was a new distance for me was odd. I grabbed a quick drink from the aid station and took off on my last lap. I allowed myself to pick up the pace a bit as I covered the now very familiar ground. I looked forward to crossing under the angry power lines, through the woods, and around the snow covered pines. The runners were thinned to very infrequent sightings at this point and my motivation was drawn out of knowing the majority of the 25k runners were already done and I didn't want to get caught by any stragglers despite, myself, being a bit of a straggler. I ran under the second passing of the high tension lines and quickened my pace a bit more. The discomfort was running that distance was clearly making headway in my legs and mind. Passing the two spectators whom made a point to come out and encourage us all said but one thing to me, "Don't leave anything on the trails!" She was saying, give it your all, don't leave anything in the tank when you finish. This encouraged me more than I'd thought it would and I quickened the pace to a terminal point. Any faster, I'd gas.
What a feeling to see the campground ahead and know I was only a couple of minutes from the finish line. I finished strong, to no fanfare whatsoever. The lone voice of encouragement coming from my beautiful wife. There were no more than 6 people at the finish line. Two organizers keeping time, two 50k runners refueling, and myself and my wife. Sure, I would have loved hearing the yells and excitement of a crowd, but, this is now what this race was about for me. The finish couldn't have been more perfect really. I sprinted the last eighth of a mile as fast as my now spent legs could carry me. Of course, the finish line was at the time of a gentle hill but at this point there were no gentle hills in my mind. It was a non-chipped finish so as I stopped I hit the timer button on my Garmin, 3:05:02 and 16.74 miles! I'd done it! I'd beat another demon, kicked over another wall, I'd won the race against myself. My wife gave me a hug and a kiss then I hobbled over to grab some water. "Let's go get a beer, it's noon somewhere."
As it turns out I finished first in my age group, men 40-44 years old. I'll take that EVEN if I was the only male in that group of 25k'ers. Fact of the matter was I got up that morning for myself. There are things I needed to face that day despite the self doubts and uncertainties. I stopped up at the starting line and persisted to the end. I had won the race I set out to run that day. It was fun despite the mid-January like weather. It was nice to have that strange camaraderie we find with other runners despite having not known them minutes before. It was a gorgeous day, a great race, and I'd do it all over again just like it was that cold April Saturday.
I'll hang my wooden finishers "medal" with pride. A winner's medal, it is.
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