Mohonk Preserve Rock the Ridge 50 Mile Challenge

The forest fire at Sam’s Point had grown from 300 to nearly 2000 acres by Wednesday Apr 27. Sam’s Point, also part of the Shawangunk Ridge in Ulster County NY, is only a few miles from the western edge of the Rock the Ridge course and threatened to jeopardize the race. Fortunately Mother Nature delivered timely wet and cool weather and we got word on Thursday night that the fire was nearly out and that the race was a go! 

I was looking for a spring 50 miler and was nearly headed back to nearby Bear Mountain, but a casual conversation with my friend Keith, a life long hiker and enthusiast for the Shawangunks, led me to enter the RTR Challenge. As I considered the crushed stone carriage path versus the frequently unrunnable rocks at Bear Mountain my feet and ankles were already feeling happy and thankful.

Rock the Ridge is billed as a “challenge” not a “race”. Inspired by JFK’s 1963 fitness challenge to the US Marines to be able to march 50 miles in 20 hours, the Mohonk Preserve created a hike/ run/ relay event based roughly on the same parameters - an inclusive event that allows for both ultra runners and those up for a hard day’s walk in the mountains. The other distinctive feature of the event is that it is run almost exclusively on the remarkably engineered and well maintained carriage roads that are part of the 8000 acre preserve.

I hoped that my long runs on the forest roads and ridges of the Pocono Plateau would be good “race specific” training, and I toed the line with two 50k’s completed in 2016 and feeling fit. Keith and my daughter Ceci both made the trip up the night before, and we had a somewhat non traditional pre-race German dinner at the Mountain Brauhaus. Keith provided transport to the start in his antique Alfa Romeo, and Ceci was scheduled to meet me on course for miles 25 through 38. As an architect and lover of rustic mountain camps and lodges, the start alone might have justified the race as it begins below the graceful arch of the Testimonial Gatehouse. The Gatehouse was where guests entered the grounds of the Mohonk Mountain House before being delivered by carriage to the hotel itself.

The overnight rain had stopped and the sky was clearing just in time for the 6:00 AM start. Temps were about perfect at around 40 with a predicted high in the mid- 60’s, with a mix of sun and clouds. 300 people were registered divided pretty evenly between hikers, runners and relayers. The race description showed 7000’+ of elevation gain (though my Garmin clocked a bit less) but despite that, given the good surface, I thought a 50 mile PR was possible, and though local old guy, Ken Posner, had run 7:15:00 in 2015, I thought 1st master might be a long shot as well.

The first 10 miles proved to be the most challenging of the day, though my problems probably started before the whistle. I optimized sleep over more time to eat, pre-race, but still wanted to pack in the calories. I had looked for those 100% fruit juice bottles at our coop, but only found something called a “yogurt smoothie” that I chugged minutes before the start. The first 5 miles takes you up onto the ridge on a manageable but steep grade. I felt sluggish and bloated but more and more these days my starting miles are hard - something akin to the tin man, getting all the rusty joints working again. We passed some pretty farms and entered the forest still climbing. The problem started to define itself as GI related and I was asking myself “was that first aid station at 9 miles or 12??”. By mile 7 there was no more debating and I headed into the woods. I lost time and heard a half dozen runners crunch past, but was much improved once back on the path. And then able to push hard on some nice downhills.



One aspect of having relay runners among the rest of the pack (without an obviously different race number) is that it was hard to tell what place you are in. I got a report early that I was 12th and figured that seemed about right but at the same time thought I might need to get a bit out of my comfort zone, so ran up some hills that normally I would be inclined to walk. This included a very long climb from miles 12 to 15 that culminated in another impressive piece of architecture - a limestone monument with at the top of a mountain (1500’) with views galore.



After a quick gaze at the structure and the Catskills in the distance, I put in some fast downhill miles that culminated in another aid station where to my surprise someone told me that I was the 5th individual! During those first 15 miles I jockeyed for position with about about 8-10 others, but then I entered a long lonely stretch and was seemingly the only person in the park (I guess they all loved that aid station?). It was also one of the few places that was not so charming and without a view! Not even a great surface - but I was on a pretty good pace and feeling good. I had packed my phone and checked in with Ceci to make sure she wasn’t still in bed. She was, in fact, eating the amazing breakfast at the Inn that I had to substitute the yogurt smoothie for! And still on schedule for the Lyons Rd meet up.

I started hitting 8- 8:30 pace and soon made it to Lyons Rd where Ceci was shouting encouragement, refilled my hydration pack and got a fresh supply of gels. Quickly we were off for the last of the major climbing for the day - a high circuit around Minnewaska State Park. The amazing limestone rock formations and cliffs are a major part of the landscape here, and we probably spent a bit too much time picture taking.

The grading of the carriage roads is so perfect that no climb seems too hard to run and with Ceci to urge me on, we tackled the long miles to Castle Point (2194’). I knew the elevation, and kept looking at my altimeter and stating definitively as we jogged in and out of the cliff edge - “this has to be it!”. Between the views and the picture taking this section went quickly despite the elevation gain. Then we plunged down, losing 1200’ over the next 6 miles. I was fatiguing and we did some side stepping/ skipping drills to loosen up as we headed back to Lyons Rd (mile 38), where I shed my pack, changed shirts and said good bye to Ceci.

After the aid station you double back on the course, and I seemed to meet the bulk of the racers coming the other way, most of whom shouted encouragement. It was still long, flat and tough. Once past Rt 44 the route picked up Undercliff Carriage Rd, a rock climbing mecca and one of the coolest section of the day. Note that, since the obelisk at mile 15 to this point, mile 38, we saw only 2 other runners going our direction, so it had been pretty much a solo affair, and though watching the climbers on their pads, and rappelling down from above, should have been interesting, mostly I felt out of energy. I had stopped keeping my splits when I was running w Ceci but now changed modes to see how it was going. Not great - 38, 39, 40, 41, were slow shuffling affairs engendering thoughts about “why” and “how will I ever do a 100 miler?” At the final aid station the volunteers perked up (I always felt like I was taking them by surprise) and seemed to know for sure that I was the 5th individual, which perked me up! And though not as dramatic as the cliffs this was a delightful small track winding through some pretty woods.

After all the down hill, at mile 44 you encounter the long slow final climb of the day, which curiously felt pretty good. It was quiet and peaceful and I locked into a zen like state where somehow you are going strong, but you are not sure exactly where the energy is coming from. Then I spotted one of the small 5 mile interval trail markers that meant I had made it to mile 45! The ridge, however, was still a few minutes off. I also thought I glimpsed a human shadow up ahead. Then as I came through the pass I clearly saw a guy a few switchbacks below. I didn’t know if he was a relay guy or individual but I reeled him in and passed without asking, and just said “good job”. More nice downhills and with 3 to go, Ceci appears again. She confirms the 5th place and says there are still 2 guys on the course between me and the finish. I go harder over the next mile with her at my side, but don’t catch sight of them.

With 2 miles to go we rejoin Lenape Lane which coincides with the first 2 miles- it is farmland and more open, but I still can’t see the gatehouse nor 3rd and 4th place due to one more small rise. Ceci peels off to retrieve the car and I am energized, and hoping for a chase to the end but once over the knoll it is just me and the allee of trees leading to the finish. I can’t quite see the clock but it is definitely a day for a PR. I go under the arch at 7:32:15 to enthusiastic cheering from the small crowd and a high 5 from the race director and a hug from Ceci. Now that is an ending to savor! Then I think I hear the timer says something about “first master”, and the RD comes over for another handshake and framed photo for my prize. “I won’t tell you how many years I’ve been a master, but I’ll take it!

For perspective, first and second place were in over an hour ahead of me, running over a minute per mile faster! And another fun fact - while chatting with 4th placer, Ken, I learned that we are practically neighbors in Philadelphia!

A few more field notes: my New Balance Hiero's (with Fresh Foam!) were awesome-no blisters, no hurting and just the right amount of cush and support; not sure if the aid stations were offering it, but a bit of real food like a ham and cheese sandwich (seriously) would have been good- I only took gels and blocks and a few pretzels and could have used a few more cals; your arms get tired too in a 7 hour race and the arm swinging and twisting we did really helped; and of course, NEVER, NEVER experiment with things on race day - i.e. Yogurt smoothies!

The Gunks are an amazing place- check them out!
Keith - thanks for opening a new door to unique place.
Ceci, another adventure in the book- well done as always!

'15 New York City Marathon

Pre-Race
Spooky.  It was Halloween and we were in Greenwich Village with thousands watching the parade, and I was getting grumpy, worried that I had been on the pavement too long with the race start 12 hours away.  Or make that 13, as lucky for us, daylight savings time started the next morning as well.

Logistics for 50,000 
Committing to public transit, Ceci and I boarded the R train in Chelsea at 5:50 AM southbound to the Staten Island Ferry Terminal, 4 hours before the start of the race.  Boarding the 6:45 ferry was surprisingly calm and orderly as was the connecting bus to the Blue Wave starters village (1700 porta-johns and all). Also included: coffee by Dunkin’, bagels and Power Gel. At 9:00 the gate closed on the B corral of the Blue Wave, more potties inside.  A critical fact, as while waiting for a last go, most of the blue wave seemed to surge past us, to get closer to the line. By the time we joined the masses we were back with the 3:30 pace crowd, requiring a shouldering up stream to the “3 hr” banner where we would reside for 20 minutes before our 9:50 start.  Along with water and gel we brought a sharpie and monogrammed Ceci’s bare mid-drift with “C C” and my singlet with “jeff”, and passed the pen back to a serious looking guy who underlined “Relax!!” already marked on his forearm.

It was Nearly Perfect (Until the Start)
Spike Lee sent us off and up the Verranzo Narrows Bridge, and the trouble began.  Despite being in the “NYC Elite” wave we were somehow stuck behind hundreds of NYPD(?) charity runners.  Helpless to go faster and moving up the incline with as much horizontal as forward movement, we logged 8:00 for mile 1, then overcompensating, 6:15 for mile 2 on the down stroke into Brooklyn. Not exactly the script for the 2h55m pace we wanted to run.  Runners seemed to be merging from every direction and mixing with the crowds already cheering three rows deep, and we started the first of our 13 miles in the 2nd Borough.  We also starting hearing the first of the “Go CC” cheers.  The guy in the yellow singlet beside her seemed to be invisible! We were clicking 6:40 miles, marveling at the crowds and grooving to the bands that urged us on. 

Elation in Brooklyn, Squabbles, and the Split 
By mile 8 in downtown Brooklyn, where we missed Kelly, who was swallowed by loudest and most massive crowd yet, the pace was slipping to 6:45-47, and Ceci was looking anxiously over her shoulder and urging me to “get up here” with her eyes.  Apparently the 2 of us had not sufficiently worked out the nuances of our race plan, and friction was developing.  The slow start, and differences in Garmin tracking and attitude, added to the situation.  I was pretty sure a slow first half could be overcome, whereas Ceci wanted the even splits. A father/ daughter argument played out mid-race, with chants of “CC”, now building more fervently.  The support was truly unreal – even a 4 year old or someone from Venezuela can read and then yell “Go CC!”, and they all were doing it. Being a 5-11 female with a bare tummy did not hurt her cause.  She was flying, and I was having doubts – 10,11,12 miles, we are mostly on pace but it was clear to me that we were better off doing our own race.  At 13.1, we had one last debate about the meaning of 1:29:xx and I told her she could still do it if she killed the last 3 miles in the Park and then I watched her disappear in front of me.

From Ceci: In retrospect, I have my dad to thank for my finishing time, because I ended up running perfectly even splits, which I’ve heard is the best way to run a marathon. If it hadn’t been for this nagging old man, I probably would have gone out in 1:27, and while I may have been able to hang on for 2:55, more likely, I would have crashed hard, logging a few 8 or 9min miles in the final stretch, and over-shooting goal time. In fact, of the countless splits I have looked at from friends and competitors, only the women’s winner, Mary Keitany of Kenya, posted a negative split (running the first half slower than the second). Everyone else tanked. So thanks dad, glad that wasn’t me. 

Cramping in Queens 
I was alone, cold and windblown on the Queensboro Bridge! It was slow and awful.  I got behind some big guys at times and then finally got pointed downhill as we rolled onto First Avenue. The crowds were back, but I was mostly thinking of my aching legs and the 10 miles to go. Thus began a delicate balance to avoid cramping. I vowed to make it to mile 20 and to not be “the guy on 5th Ave grabbing his hammies”. The course actually has a 1000’ of elevation gain and loss, and surprisingly, I was happy for the dippy little stretch at miles 16, 17, and then some real down downhill at 18, as my legs felt better there than on the flats.  By mile 20 the course makes turns to negotiate the Willis Ave Bridge into the Bronx and then quickly onto the 138th Bridge back into Manhattan.  I remembered throwing in a little backwards running (I’m not kidding) and some B skips and grapevine moves just to shake up the big muscles a bit more.  I made silly faces at the guys behind me but they were trapped in their own pain cage, and just glared back.

Meanwhile, a few minutes up the road, I charged up the unending mountain that was the 59th Street Bridge. While I kept the pace under control, I probably passed 100 runners on the way up, which became a theme. In fact, I think I was only passed by one runner (at mile 26) for the entire race. While NYRR did an awesome job organizing, something is wrong with this picture. Anyhow, we were swept down onto First Ave, where I found my groove, preferring the completely empty right side of the road, where I didn’t have to compete for elbow room. Of course, this made my “CC” tum more visible; I converted the cheers into energy. At mile 18, I was in for a treat, as I spotted one of my best friends, Helen, fellow Eph and cycling teammate, who was wearing our distinctive “Stan’s No Tubes”  jacket, along with two identically clad side kicks. She had time to do whoops and dancing twirls before giving me the best high 5 ever. Though my toes were on fire (I am blister-prone), I was confident I could keep this pace as long as my calves behaved themselves!. 21- Finish 
By mile 21 and Fifth Ave it appeared that I’d won the cramping battle and began to move again. I started paying attention to my splits and liked that they were starting with a 6:! At Mile 22, in a rare moment of clarity, I look and see 2:30 and figure there is an outside chance still at sub 3:00. I am also thinking – I really hope I don’t come up on Ceci, this would be horrible and a dilemma – but no sign of her, whew! Mile 23 – not bad, passing lots of people -  carnage on 5th Ave as “those guys” are everywhere, off to the side hobbling and clutching.  Mile 24, a cruel uphill that you can see forever, but also where you get to FINALLY enter Central Park! Then a roller coaster ride as you plunge mercifully down along tree lined lanes, past the zoo, and towards Central Park South for a right turn with about 2 miles to go. Everything is burning, and you are thinking “how am I going to do this” but also knowing inside that you’ve got it! I am finishing strong but a few others are too and I feed on their energy as we veer out towards Columbus Circle and then back north.  Were is the #$^% banner?! Finally, I can see the clock, and the line, cross it, and hit stop at 3:01:12

The other half of the duo entered the final 6 miles, thinking of the parting quote from her father, “The marathon is a 20mile warm up followed by a 10k race.” Forcing down a last gel, as I entered Manhattan, I didn’t feel ready to race at mile 20, but I was prepared for the fight to hold on. I was thrilled to spot my coach, Mikael, who hopped on to the street to run with me down 5th Ave. The distracting chat was a blessing, and he left with advise for the remaining miles. I decided my next motivation would be catching girls. I knew top 50 was possible, so I tackled the 5th Ave hill reeling in a girl in a official looking singlet. Soon I’d caught her and then my sights were set on the next. An unexpected girl—my mom!—appeared at 96th Street to add even more encouragement. Central Park is only a blur of a memory, most notable for searing hamstrings and buckling calves. I tried to use all my knowledge of anatomy to recruit any new muscle I could to shift the stress somewhere else. With half a mile to go, a man ran up behind my shoulder, and said “come on, girl, let’s go!” I spotted two more women, and I knew this man was my ticket, so I dug just a bit deeper catching the second one at the line and staggered into the arms of a guy in a red medical jacket. Time: 2:58:35!

Beyond the Line
I’m elated, rubber legged, high-fiving the volunteers, and a little delirious.  With my medal around my neck I’m prompted forward by dozens of impossibly cheery volunteers (there were 10,000 of them!). Then in a burst, there is hobbling Ceci! She is moving way slower than I am (when it doesn’t count of course), and we hug and scream or something, I really don’t remember.  I am so proud, and we are quickly spewing our respective versions of miles 13-26.  We literally walk 2 more miles (cruel) to the very end of the 25 UPS trucks for our gear.  After delicate maneuvering to put dry clothes on cramping limbs we get our phones.  We have only been finished for 20 minutes and Mitch Baker, Ceci’s coach at Williams has texted, and Jennifer, missed calls from Kelly (2), an email from Chris…..they probably all knew our splits better than we did.

New York Loves You.
Weird scenes of hobbling runners draped in blue NYCM ponchos drifting down Central Park West; cops on scooters, cops with dogs, cops on horses; volunteers EVERYWHERE in yellow and blue jackets; a guy in full Inca Warrior garb with a massive Mohawk (and finishers’ medal) - and this was before most folks were out of Brooklyn.  Where was Kelly?  “No way, we said Broadway and 62nd not 52nd!”  We squeeze through a dump truck barricade at Columbus Circle and Ceci climbs atop a pedestal at the foot of the the Trump International Hotel, while I trade smart remarks with a cop about poor meet up plans.  We see the CVS canopy way down on Broadway where Kelly is, but there are like half of the 1 million spectators between us, so once again, I am tracking Ceci through crowds and minutes later we are reunited with big hugs.

Yelp directs us to Times Square and a hole in the wall with one of the “Best Slices in Manhattan” for pizza.  We slip into the lobby of a posh boutique hotel next door for the rest rooms just as a runner is helped through the door, not able to support himself.  We emerge cleaned up and the slices live up to their 5 star rating.  The sun is shining and it seems like everyone is a marathon fan – and all are asking us about how it went, and praising our efforts like we are celebrities.  When I tell them “she was the 16th American woman”, then they really had something to be impressed about! A bit later, the One World Trade Center Observatory the staff gifted us an iPad interactive tour guide. And finally, a random stranger treated to a shared Uber Cab ride back to our hotel!  There was a dinner invite as well, but our sticky, achy bodies needed a bath.

The complex agony of the marathon, and the hassles of mega races, were why I left this behind for the trees, rocks and trails; but If you can get to NYC for the marathon - as a participant, volunteer or spectator, do not pass it up!

Laurel Highlands

After 14 hours and 15 minutes; 11,010 feet of elevation gain; 9900 calories burned; and 14 liters of water consumed, I crossed the line to finish the Laurel Highlands 70.5 mile trail run.

In the late 70’s a few friends challenged each other to see if they could run the trail, which starts at Ohiopyle, Pa (also famous for Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater) to its end, just outside of Johnstown, before dark.  No one made it, but in subsequent years it became established as one of the oldest trail races in the country. It traverses the entire length of the Laurel Ridge, and is marked with concrete pylons at each mile.

As both an avid hiker and runner, the race had immediate appeal, but at 70 miles it seemed in another league from what I was prepared for.  Then last fall I let the notion of doing the race get closer to reality and shared this with my frequent training partner Chris, who also got on board.  Being an old race, and also "old school”, it is not an Ultrasignup, sold out in a few minutes kind of race.  One mails a paper application and personal check and hopes to get a spot.  Your canceled check is the only acknowledgement that you are indeed a part of the 130 entrants.  By mid-December we started to plan for June 13, 2015.

A somewhat serious mid-winter Achilles injury limited my training to 17 weeks and it started with a 15 min run on a treadmill (!) and lots of cross training.  At some point in April I did a legit long run, and after that Chris and I started weekly 1/2 mile long hill repeat sessions up Rex Avenue. It was close, but by June 1 we declared ourselves ready.  In longer races, some ultra runners enlist a crew to help them on race day - and we were lucky enough assemble one too.   Our crew: Bob, a race veteran and master of the pace calculator (see below); Barb, Chris's wife, also a seasoned runner, and our accommodations manager; my daughter Ceci; and the team dog, Scout.

All but Ceci arrived in southwestern Pa the night before and attended the pre-race briefing and dinner.  We were very happy to not be catching the 3:30 AM bus from Johnstown to the start!  Instead we slept in :), and our driver Bob had us to Ohiopyle at 5:00 AM.  Chris was mortified that a serious runner would race with a cell phone, but I wanted to be able to take some pics, and was also tracking Ceci as she made the 5 hour drive west to meet me at mile 46.  Also, I was still not super confident about a 70 mile challenge and thought the phone might keep things more casual.  

The fist 9 miles of the course features over 3k of climbing, so I adopted "it's a long day" approach, while Chris wanted a slightly faster early pace.  Bob's race calculator predicted us to reach mile 40 at the same time.  Somewhere around mile 8(?) was the last I saw Chris before the finish! The climbing lived up to expectations, and the conditions were rain forest like, but with temps in the 70s(?) - not bad on paper, but it was suffocating without a breeze stirring. I hit the 11.6 mile aid station on time at 7:52 AM and in good spirits. Bob reported Chris a few minutes ahead. The next 10 miles were rolling and I picked up the pace at hit the 19.3 mile aid station at 9:20 AM.  The aid station routine was smooth and pro - Bob expertly inserted a spare bladder into my pack and handed me a new packet of gels, salt tabs etc....He also had a pack with spare clothes and a change of shoes.

I had opted for a fairly light weight shoe - but the trail was  proving to be rockier (and more slippery) than anticipated and my ankles and feet were starting to hurt. The temps stayed coolish and we had a long section of running literally in a cloud bank - it was surreal and wonderful. I took my first of 2 hard falls during the section - a stubbed big toe and skinned arm being the only consequences. At the 28 mile aid station I upgraded to a heavier shoe (Mizuno Kazans)- and was still feeling good.  Bob said Chris was now 4-5 mins ahead.

Soon after, the sun came out and the heat index skyrocketed.  With the cool temps I may not have taken enough water and my pace was slowing by the time we crossed Rt 31 (mile 32). I had a headache and by the mile 39 stop I was 20 mins off my projected pace.  I was forcing fluids, salt and gels and starting to feel better,  then shortly after the aid station, I had the good fortune to be caught by Maggie.  It is an ultra ritual to form brief friendships with total strangers.  I knew Ceci was meeting me at mile 46, but feared I would be staggering by then.  Instead Maggie, a military intelligence analyst and mom, and I traded the pacing and life histories, as my head ache subsided and our pace increased.  I managed only to lose another 5 mins during that stretch- a pretty section of trail that frequently threaded through huge moss covered rock outcroppings.  

Barb had said earlier, it would be whole new race once I met Ceci, and seeing the trio of Barb, Ceci and Scout at 46.4 was huge.  Bob was off pacing Chris, but now I had my own helper.  We took our time at the station - I ate a mini turkey sandwich and some watermelon and we noted from the leader board that I was in 12th, with Chris in 9th.  The last big hills occur between 46 and 52, and I did my best to power hike up and run the flats.  I predicted that the key to Laurel was getting to mile 52 with something left - and I felt decent and ready to roll the last 18.  Ceci noted that the guy in 11th was drinking a beer at the rest stop, and we agreed that we should be able to get this guy, and in a old burn area with ferns lining the trail we came upon his pacer taking photos!  About a quarter mile later we catch Mr Miller Time and cordially pass on by. 

The joy of the catch did not last long, as on a nearly flat section of trail i tripped again - this time smashing the other big toe and coming down hard on my left hip and knee.  I rolled in pain, but the key parts all seemed functional, and we then managed some of the fastest miles of the day.  The pace was paying off as we eyed the 10th and 9th place runners ahead, and aggressively ran past them.  They shouted "were we relay runners?" (there is also a concurrent 5 man relay race) and Ceci shouted back "sorry, no".  At the mile 57 aid station a volunteer pointed out the blood streaming from my knee and cleaned me up while another guy patiently asked me what i wanted to eat - "grilled cheese?" - I settled for a can of Coke and mini Hershey's bars.  My stomach had not felt great for a while and the Coke helped.  

We were rolling again with many easy descents, but I was tiring - I kept thinking I would catch Chris anytime but 9th was where I would stay.  The only section of non-single track comes before the final aid station at Gas Line Road (mile 62) - about a mile of dirt road that rose slightly and seemed to never end.  The skies were getting darker and the humidity, impossibly, even higher.  Ceci cajoled me about the slow pace, but I was done racing and just wanted it over.  I had hoped to gain time here, as It was steeply down, but being rocky and slippery I was wary of falling again.  

With 3 miles to go you can hear the train switching yards in Johnstown below and then enter a delightful rhododendron thicket that arches completely overhead.  We were tempted to use the headlamp, but just took a bit more care.  Mercifully, the only mile on the course that is short is the last one, only .6! and it was a joyful thing to see the "69" obelisk.  It was nearly dark and we heard thunder and smelled rain, as we passed the park entrance sign and saw the glow of the finishing tent beyond!

Fitting the style of the race there was no digital clock or inspiring music, just a scorers table and guy checking  race numbers - that was it! It was 7:45 PM, 14 hrs and 15 minutes after the start. Ceci and I hugged and high 5'd, and then noticed Chris sprawled on a towel nearby.  He had been done for 25 mins and had finished in 6th place!  A few minutes later the skies opened in a downpour - the shower was refreshing, and the post-race chili tasted surprisingly good.

We joined up with the rest of the crew and took up the final challenge of the day - fitting all of us, plus gear, in Barb's Subaru - it was steamy (the nicest way to put it) but we fit and started to relive the day a bit at a time.

Laurel is a stunningly beautiful course, and being point to point is unusual (like Boston) and special. The small town, woodsy vibe is great, and the organizers and volunteers are clearly old hands. It was a brutal weather day, and it took its toll with only 2/3 of the starters finishing. I was the 3rd oldest finisher, so top 10 should have felt good, and generally I was pleased.  I loved the crew and my pacer - thank you!  It also affirmed part of what is so appealing to me about ultras - their unpredictability, and fighting through tough spots. It was also vindication of a training and race day plan well executed, and while not a 100 miler, I feel like I truly belong in the ultra marathoner club now.   Thanks for reading and all your support!!

Barry, Boiled Potatoes and the MiB (HAT Run)

It was a perfect day to run at Susquehanna State Park in Havre de Grace, Maryland - chilly and foggy in the morning turning to sunshine, and the nicest day we've had since sometime back in 2013, later on. The Susquehanna River is huge where it meets the Chesapeake Bay and is edged by huge 600' bluffs leading down to it's shoreline, which is is how you get 4300' of climbing in a 50k race in the eastern part of Maryland.  This is the 26th year for the HAT one of the oldest and largest Ultras on the East Coast (500 runners).  

Risk was the theme of this race, as I made 2 decisions that colored the 4:32 mins I was on the course - 1) to try and race Barry Lewis straight up and 2) not to carry water, and just rely on the aid stations.  Barry is a few months my junior, and a guy I have never beaten.  Most recently it was at a 5 mile Turkey Trot where he finished one place and a some seconds ahead of me.  It should be noted that Barry has run the HAT 20 times, and won it at least once (I said it was about risk!). In regard to risk factor two, it was a cool day and I thought there were enough aid stations that carrying a bottle or pack may not have been necessary.  

The course consists of a 4 mile loop and then 2 loops of 13.5 each - mostly single track dirt trail but some pavement and a dirt road section, and 4 stream crossings! Shortly after the mini loop a group of 3 or 4 gained a few minutes on the next group of 8 or so.  I'm in this second group but am pretty sure I don't see Barry ahead - I do see him soon though, trotting along a few places back.  And a few minutes later we are chatting on the trail with a few others.  For the next 10 miles or so it is comfortable running over the undulating terrain and Barry and I trade places a few times, but also move ahead of the others.  We may have been as high as 5th and 6th? In the mean time, I am learning why in a trail race, unlike a road race, relying on the water tables is not such a good idea.  I carried some gels and a salt tab and took them on my normal schedule, unfortunately I had to wait for the water to wash them down, and then when I got to the aid station, I probably over compensated, and spent extra time grabbing extra cupfuls. Fortunately, I stashed a hand held at the start/finish so when we got back there at mile 18 I was able to grab it. By then it was starting to warm up and I was feeling pretty dry.  It turns out that I was not the only one with GI "issues" as Barry shared at about mile 17, that he hoped he made it to the toilets at the start/ finish.  So as we passed the start, he headed one way and I the other to grab my bottle. 

different year, same sentiment

I let myself think for a bit that perhaps I had the advantage now as I was cruising, but also tiring, then along comes Barry, practically dancing past me - I try to stay with him, but he is gone, like a deer up the trail.  I guess the break did him some good! That vision was the last I got until he congratulated me at the finish! Barry is gone and my stomach is in a little distress and my legs are getting heavy, letting me know that this might be a good time to ease up.  Which I do, but this also allows the first of the guys from behind to catch and pass.  Shortly after water crossing #3 the Men in Black come into the picture.  One of the MiB passes me up the hill, and then stops apparently waiting for the other guy in the black top.  Somewhere around 22-23m  they catch me on a long downhill road section.  This course is tricky because none of the climbs are big - but they do add up. Also there are two mile long descents on pavement that you pretty much have to take advantage of, but also add to fatigue.  Just as we are forming a nice little trio, I catch a hamstring cramp and have to stretch and now am in the rear view mirror of the MiB.  Fortunately, it is really the only cramping of the day.  But the worst of the stomach problems is yet to come - I am just on the verge of forcing down another Mocha Cliff Shot when gratefully the sign for the aid station ahead comes into view.  I am craving salt so ask what they have and guy directs me to the boiled potatoes with the adjoining salt tray - I dip 2 enthusiastically and head off popping the first into my mouth whole.  There is so much salt I literally gag and brush off the 2nd as best I can.  It's only 5 miles to go now, and I declare to be finished with eating and just sip at my water. 

Somewhat surprisingly, my stomach settles out and just when the hills start in earnest again I find my legs too.  Good thing as there are a few more guys just behind now.  This is also the section with awe inspiring views up and down the river so I made sure to take a look around.  I forgo the trouble of rock hopping and just splash through the last stream crossing and am reminded that these paths had snow on them a week ago.  Within sight of the finish I get passed by a guy in lime green who looks like a whippet, but he is the last.  I think I was 12th place in 4:32 - Barry gained 10 mins over the last 12 miles and was in at 4:22 and was well inside the top 10.  The MiB, true to form, crossed the line together in between us.  Winning time I believe was 4:11.  Everyone figured they ran the first loop too fast. 

The post race sunshine was sublime, and along with the live music, and Jambalaya with sides of fries, it was hard to leave the park behind for I 95 and the drive back to Philly.  

Fun But Awful: VT 50

My friend Chris said, of the VT 50, that it is fun and awful at the same time. As my first 50 mile race I agree that there was plenty of both.

First the technical stuff: No issues with fueling which I was really worried about - I ate gels, Clif Bars, and stuff from the aid tables at a rate of 2-3x per hr in an effort to thwart cramping, which has been a problem for me. I took salt tabs hourly and drank 6 liters of water. All this seemed to work pretty well to keep me energized, hydrated and mostly cramp free. Also no chafing or blisters. Thank you Lulu Lemon for their wonderful sport briefs (tmi I know)! And I wore Saucony Peregrine 3's - a softer shoe than my normal La Sportiva's, but the course was dry and not too rocky - 60% single track with the balance, dirt roads and fields, and I found them easier on my foot/ ankle (see below). I also seriously tapered over 3 wks prior to the race- partly to be well rested and also to rest my ankle that I strained in mid- August. So less mileage and a few less long ones than I thought ideal, but a well rested ankle.

The race: the course has over 8000' of climbing, pretty evenly distributed, and the date coincides with leaf season in Vt, so there are lots of views and stunning scenery. The contrast between forest track, dirt roads and fields is also special. The day started cold and foggy, and the scene at the start was surreal. Did I mention this is also a mountain bike race? So there are over 600 cyclists warming up with headlamp beams criss-crossing the parking and and start areas, and reflective clothing glowing in the foggy dark. The bikers go first (with glow sticks marking the first few miles of the course!), and by 6:30, it is light and the 50 mile race begins. My stated goal was a sub 8 hr run, and my (not so) secret one was the age group record of 7:13. The latter demanding a 8:40 pace. An easy start was required, so I settled into a rhythm and let the first 15-20 runners stretch out in front of me. Up the first hill (all of 1 mile into the course!) I joined up with John and chatty Amy, last year's women's winner. One of the advantages of running 9:30 miles during and all day race, is that you can have a conversation. Amy, whose husband was in the lead group up ahead, entertained us w training and racing stories with a bit too much intimate detail about chafing, etc, but it did pass the time. We all got separated at the 2nd aid station (AS) at 12 miles, which I mistook for just a spectator area, so blew past the drop bags, including mine, which was waiting w a resupply of gels, salt tabs, etc...A mile later I realized my mistake, but luckily, since my second bag was at mile 32, I found an untouched package of Clif Blocks on the trail, probably bounced out of cyclist's jersey! John caught back up to me, but we never saw Amy again. We then churned up Garvin's Hill as the fog finally lifted, treating us to a killer view back to Mt Ascutney at the summit, which was also the mile 18 AS. I took what seemed like 5 mins trying to fill and repack my Camelbak and lost John and seemingly the rest of the race as I streaked down the other side in the woods.

By mile 22 a new group had formed including John, Ben (a surgery resident from UVM), Joe (HS teacher and Nordic ski coach, and in my age group), and another silent guy in a red top. Ben filled Amy's void, but more like a talk show host, firing questions, and Joe, inexplicably would occasionally just start singing. All this time we were cruising, chatting and the miles were rolling behind us. Ben, Joe and I dropped the others and were moving downhill after the mile 32 AS, where I did retrieve my 2nd bag, and all was looking good, and I was thinking - if I could just beat Joe, maybe the age group record was there as well? Of course, that was silly thought, as just about then, we started a long switch backing climb and my legs started to abandon me. Joe shouted from above, but I knew I needed to back off or the end would be ugly. Now all alone, the course got even steeper - a godsend in a way, as I power hiked up and up, and allowed my legs to recover some.

I should note that this day was not strictly a solo effort, as my daughter, Ceci, made the trip from NYC to keep me company and join me at mile 42 as a pacer (pacers are often allowed in latter parts of Ultras). The hill finally topped out onto what seemed like a several mile long stretch of dirt road and I forced myself to run, although at a snail's pace. I should also mention that due to the fog or something, my Garmin was lost in some sort of VT Bermuda Triangle and was tracking way slower than the actual mileage. After a left turn off the endless road, there was a sign for "LJ's", the next station - I asked "how far?", the answer was 42 and my watch was reading 38! My excitement about the bonus miles quickly evaporated when I realized my pacer was no where to be seen. After some rapid fire questions, it was revealed that she had arrived late due to a mix up in the shuttle schedule, and to compound the problem had been misdirected onto the course as the official seemed to think I had already gone past! The pacer was now a rabbit!!

I tried to send word ahead via biker messenger, but I ended up passing the couriers. I was energized now, and after another 10 mins, I catch sight of her heading down the path to me! She had caught up to Joe and Ben, who knew I was expecting her, and they told her to go back. The timing could not have been better, as I was dying again. My watch read 6:30 or so with 6-7 miles to go, so it appeared that a good time was still possible, though I kept thinking about what Chris and others had said about how slow the last section could be. It was all forest trail - twisty, turning, up and down - not extreme, but generally inclined. In last year's 50k, I was flying through this section, now I was being cajoled by Ceci to keep my head up and feet moving. The last AS is at 47.5 and just never seemed to come. A brief burst into the now hot sun, we finally see an official who says 3/4 of mile to the station! Maddeningly there is a sign after the table that notes "3 miles to go". Still, it is down hill through a nice meadow -in fact we pass a racer who tells us this is his property(!) (we are now picking off stragglers from the 50k). But then back to the woods and more of what came before. I am cursing, Ceci is prodding, and the watch still shows 7:3x. The last mile is down the now defunct Mt Ascutney ski resort -a zig-zagging, cross slope, ankle crushing downhill - it is hot, and my stomach is starting to hurt. I catch a glimpse of John at the top of the slope above me, and find some sort of kick to take me past the line with the clock showing 7:49:38. Good for 13th place.

I was afraid to sit down after the race, for fear I would not be able to get up again, which was not too far from being true. Curiously, the 7 hours and 49 minutes went by quickly, and the race did not seem nearly as hard as I was expecting. It was disappointing to not have legs when I needed them, and no age group record nor even the age group win, though I did finish ahead of all but one person each from the 20-29 and 40-49 brackets among the 228 finishers. Ben and Joe finished together in 10th and 11th; John was 15th, Lisa 18th, both breaking 8 hrs. The top woman was 3rd overall in 7:01, a course record. The men's winning time of 6:09 was also a record. Ceci's XC captain from Williams, Liz Gleason won the 50k women's finishing 3rd overall.

It was a great day on a beautiful course, shared with old and new friends. Thanks especially to Ceci, and to many of you on this list for your support and interest in this crazy endeavor.

Ironmaster's 50k Challenge

Pine Grove is in Central Pa near Carlisle, in the Cumberland Valley - in the midst of small mountains w beautiful long ridges. There was an 19th century iron furnace in Pine Grove, hence the name of the race. The day was sold out w 400 participants divided into 2 runs and a hike w 116 starting the 50k and a least that number in the 20m which coincided w the 50k. It was a clear cold night and in the low 40's for the 7 AM start. The first mile was up a steep road and steeper trail, but still it seemed achingly slow, so even holding back, I was quickly in 2nd place w the guy ahead pulling away and those behind falling further back. Being isolated early was weird and as it turns out bad luck too, as, when reaching the ridge, I missed the flag and continued down the main trail! I sensed this wasn't right but spotted a ground flag and then one tied to a fence so ran on. After several hundred feet of descending w no more flags, I headed back up. This detour was worth at least .75 mi and 7-8 mins, and by the time I reached the race I was horrified to see that I was buried in the back of the pack! I told myself not to panic, but the situation was quickly made worse by the fact that we entered the famed "Sunset Rocks," a long ridge of boulders that require more scrambling and climbing than running. Trying not to be a jerk I squeezed and clamored past folks as best I could (backpacking in CO was good prep). Once we cleared that task, I could a long line of colorful runners stretching down the ridge.

Suppressing panic again, I told myself that with 27 miles left there was still plenty of time, and now more politely, excused myself, swung off trail and generally made my way through maybe 20 runners over the next few miles. On a long descent with a few more behind me I chatted w a guy who said he thought there still might be 50 ahead (not all running 50k though). As I moved up, I noticed the gear and apparent fitness level of those around me began to look better, and on a big up at mile 10 or so, I got a new (better) estimate of 25 ahead. The views to the valley behind were wonderful and the sun had warmed the day considerably. I was tugging on the camelbak a lot as we finally reached another delightful ridge. Then followed 2-3 miles of gradual descending often skipping back and forth over a nice mossy stream. I blew through CP2, and left a few guys standing around the water table (advantage: camelbak), but had started to cramp a bit on the descent which was worrisome.

At this point I was gaining confidence and running comfortably (flat=no cramping) but then my poor navigation skills struck again as I missed a junction, this time maybe a quarter mile later I turned back but had lost 4-5 places. I saw folks ahead that I had just passed! Interestingly 2 women (one with bright pink knee highs) must have been moving up behind me as they seem to have jumped in as well. I quickly moved back though and said hi to my "old friends". Then incredibly I went off course again 2 miles later - this time it was an errant line of flags leading to nowhere! This was less of a detour but the women and 1 guy swapped me places again! This is now like mile 18 and I am starting to hurt a bit, but thanks to bananas, salt sticks and electrolyte tabs in the camelbak I'm barely staving off leg cramps. I pass one women again and it is almost laughable at this point. The guy, I see at the mile 20 water stop and he wishes me good luck - like "if you can find the finish!"

It is getting hot and the course starts to climb some wooded rocky terrain. I figure I am top 10, and see 3 up ahead. I pass one on the way and catch the others including Pink Socks at this rocky top with a 1000' view to a lake below. I force crampy legs to descend quicker than they want to, and at mile 23 crossing Pine Grove Rd a guy there tells me I am 6th w the others within 5 mins. I cross a crazy narrow suspension bridge w no sides and hope my legs/ balance are up to it, then hit a long dirt rd but still do not catch sight of the others. The last ascent starts at mile 24.5 and is so steep that I have to walk, and it is nearly a mile long. I have rallied a bit though and my spirits brighten considerably when I see a red shirt high in some rock above, then see 2 others with him. Striding and jogging some, I catch them just at the summit - it is James and Mark, 2 guys who also stayed at the lodge the night before. Mark and red shirt are wasted after the climb, and I tuck in behind James as we descend. At some pt we switch places and near the bottom (mile 28) and then spot the guy in 2nd place on the next small hill. James says he has to walk, so I press on alone and catch the guy, who is now also walking.

I cross Leper Town Rd about a mile later, and wonder about the reference, but then catch a glimpse of someone behind - I assume it is the now revived guy I last passed but also thought I saw pink! I tell myself it doesn't matter and put my head down. I walk up one short steep rise and then focus on getting in. There are a few trekkers also finishing their 15k walk which helps, as it just something up ahead to focus on. By mile 30 it starts to feel less wild and more like the park. In the last .5 miles you cross Rt 233 and are back to civilization and wind past the iron furnace ruin to finish (up the hill!) at the iron master's house. I never saw the winner but made it up to 2nd in 5:31:18. Incredibly, Pink Socks (Megan, age 24) is only 15 secs back for 3rd. And Sara, who I last saw at the rocky summit, is 5th, with blood streaming from a gash in the knee. James is 7th in 5:34:46, and Mark 9th another 5 mins back. An amazingly tight finish for a 5 hr plus race.

I was shattered and my head hurt. I grabbed Advil, a dry shirt and then a sticky bun and began to come back to life. There were sloppy joes and the Roy Pitz Brewery table after that. It turns out the the winner, Greg (5:27:09), made the same same early wrong turn last year! The volunteers couldn't have been nicer and despite not knowing another soul before, walked away with new friends to go with my race medal.