Running is often labeled a selfish sport. I will admit that at time for me, it is a bit selfish - it's time away from my family and partner, it's time that could be spent doing a house project or cleaning the bathroom more regularly, and it's certainly time not spent furthering my career. In the past, I would argue that it is time spent with friends (as running as become one of my main social outlets), it is my therapy (I can only imagine how I would be if I didn't have running friends to help me process life, calm me down, or help me run out my frustrations), and it is a shared bond I have with Brian - even if we aren't running together, we both share stories of our runs and support each other's running. It may be a stretch to say that any tangible good has come of my running - this weekend changed that.
I went out for a run on Sunday to test out the Inov8 Orocs - an orienteering shoe that I have been contemplating using for my next upcoming race. I've never run in the Orocs, but it occurred to me that the beefy tread and the small carbide spikes would be great for the potentially icy/snowy course, as well as good to help gain traction in the often slippery leaves. But, would my feet feel comfy in them for hour after hour running? Only way to know is to take them out for a long run. That was my thoughts for Sunday's group run on mixed surface 'great, I can test the shoes out on road, dirt road, trail, leaves, and snow'. So at 7am, I met up with some friends as we collected on the edge of civilization for our run.
We passed the first few miles easily, ribbing each other about recent races, sharing stories, and enjoying the cold day (15F with wind chill of 0F!) and our first run on snow of the year. After cresting Rattlesnake Gutter (a dirt road) and running around the closed gate, we started to skirt around a white truck parked there, assuming it was another hunter parked out in the wilderness. The guy in the truck stopped us to ask a question, to be honest I can't remember what he asked. But, in the matter of a few words exchanged, it became apparent that this guy was in rough shape and likely needed some help. His words were slurred, his thoughts were disjointed and confused. He couldn't find his car keys, his hand was bleeding, he had no cell phone reception to call for help. I asked him if he was ok, and how he cut his hand - his response was nonsensicle.
We got him out of his truck, pulled his hood over his head, and one of the guys in my group selflessly offered up his gloves to cover this guys hands. We pointed him in the direction of the nearest phone at the local co-op (1/2 mile down the road), figuring he could call for a spare set of car keys, and spend some time there warming up and sobering up (honestly, our first assumption was that he was drunk). However, we re-evaluated quickly as we watched him stumble out of his car, take the hood off his head, continue to hold the gloves in his hands, and look confused as soon as we weren't immediately there to direct him where to go and what to do.
It dawned on us one by one - there were no tread marks in the snow on the road, and it had stopped snowing at 7:30pm the previous night, over 12 hours earlier. He couldn't really comprehend what we were saying, he couldn't even really walk on his own. Immediately, a plan was formed as a few folks ran ahead to call for help while the rest of us walked with the guy (who was obviously hypothermic, once we thought about it), holding him up by both shoulders on his coat, entertaining him with stories, and (as is my practice in any ultra event) keeping him moving with relentless forward progress. He stumbled a few times, he lurched forward as he fell asleep for a moment (we made sure he stayed awake), and he was slow to respond to anything - but we kept him moving until the local police chief pulled up and put him in a car to drive him to help.
Us runners, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation, turned around to resume our run and rewarm our chilled bodies. My hands were numb and my core temperature was low, but luckily I was warmed again by the time I finished the run. While finding the guy was on our minds, we did our best to return to typical running chatter as we logged the remaining miles of our route.
On Monday morning, I found in my email that one of the folks I was running with checked up on the guy we had found - when he arrived at the hospital, they found that his core temperature was down to 85 degrees, and estimated that he had only hours to live if he hadn't been found. It was frightening to think of what might have happened if our group didn't decide to run up that lonely road, and if the guy didn't reach out to us to ask a question. I was further horrified that my initial thoughts were to assume that the guy might be drunk...and was ashamed to admit that I was a little frightened by the situation.
My selfish run with friends, intending to test out shoes for an upcoming race, turned into a life-saving effort by the group. It makes me proud to be in a community whose first reaction is to help, and who collectively can do some good. It's also great to know that each of us did a little something for the collective good - whether offering up gloves, running ahead to call for an ambulance, or asking the guy if he was ok - we all contributed to the cause and helped out. It was a very vivid reminder to be aware of my surroundings, and to keep an open mind when evaluating a situation.
My thoughts and prayers are with the guy we found - hopefully he will return in good health and find some peace and closure in whatever brought him up to the end of Rattlesnake Gutter on that cold and lonely night.
Article on the incident: http://mobile.gazettenet.com/news/9510805-108/belchertown-man-found-in-leverett-woods-treated-for-hypothermia
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Rusieckis Representin' - Mountain Masochist Race Report
This past weekend, Brian and I returned to Virginia to race the Mountain Masochist Trail Run (MMTR) - a challenging point-to-point 50 miler. This was Brian's 3rd running, and my 2nd running - and last year's course was covered in snow for the second half, so this was my first time to see the actual trail on the second half. I was excited to return and improve from my 2012 finish time. I ran for fun last year, and finished in 9:31 - I was hopeful I could break 9 hours (if I broke 8:54, I could also claim my 'age record' for the course). I also finished 5th female last year, so I was hopeful that I might be able to finish in the top 3 this year - but this is a race where getting a top 10 earns you a coveted piece of Patagonia apparel - so that was ultimately the hope. Brian was looking to defend his title against some stiff competition.
Brian and I included a visit to a local winery during our travels; it has become a bit of a tradition with us to be sure to enjoy the local area pre-race by finding a winery and doing a tasting. I think it also calms our nerves a bit!
Anyway, Saturday morning came early. We loaded the bus and were off to the starting line. We ran into a few friends pre-race, so while we're not part of the Virginia trail running scene it felt great to see familar faces and hug friends before we embarked on our 50 mile trek.
The race started hot and heavy for the men's field, but easy for the ladies. I was quickly behind two Colorado ladies, and before I knew what I was doing I found myself easily cruising by them before the 1 mile marker. In my head, I was screaming at myself 'What are you doing?!? You are such an idiot, there's no possible way you can win this thing! Slow down!'. I tried to ignore the inner voice and just run easy at my pace - if my easy pace was ahead of these ladies, then who cares, right?
Just over a mile into the race, the course turns off the road and onto the trail, and through the first stream crossing of the day. Shoes...wet...shorts...wet...oh boy! About a quarter mile later was another river crossing, so there was no chance that anyone would have dry feet! Thank goodness my Roclites drain well! After a few miles of running, my left hamstring (which had given me a few issues in the days leading up to the race) quickly started to howl with pain. I nearly puked it hurt so bad. I contemplated turning around, but being in the lead so early on I was afraid of being seen as that jack a$$ who took off like a shot gun only to drop 2 miles in...so it was only pride that kept me from turning around and walking back to the starting line. I figured I'd at least get to the first aid station - I had driven 10 hours to get here after all!
As I ran the first climb, the hamstring hurt but it wasn't so bad that I was limping or had to stop - so I did my best to ignore the pain. It felt like I was ripping the hamstring in half, but I knew from experiencing this before that it's just an adhesion in my leg...so while it's incredibly painful, no damage would actually occur. I enjoyed the early miles, eventhough I was running in solitude so early on - the trails were great and as the sun rose it was making the entire forest glow orange and yellow with the foliage.
Through the first aid station, and the 2nd place girl was about 30 seconds back. But, I still felt in control so I relaxed to run my race. On the first downhill, I found that my hamstring was crying in pain, and I had to shorten my stride to manage the pain...and I had to pray to not catch a toe which would have caused worse issues. I ran conservatively down the hill as guy after guy streamed past me, but surprisingly none of the ladies passed me. Due to the hamstring, I was actually excited when the trail turned up, which my training buddies know is rare for me.
A few more easy miles of trail and jeep road, and one more river crossing and we were in the next aid station. The RD Clark Zealand was there and gave me a cheer, seemingly genuinly pleased that I was in the lead. I was bummed to find that there weren't any gels at the first aid station, but just 100 feet down the trail I found an unopened gel on the ground - so I picked it up and ate it. Double bonus - cleaning the trail of litter...and I got a gel! (I know, it's gross, but i promise you it's not the grossest thing that happened out there on Saturday.)
After rolling through several more miles of jeep trail, I was passing some guys who went out too fast, while other guys were passing me. At the mile 15 aid station, Dave Horton, former RD of this race, gave me a huge cheer and a pat on the back as I went by - I was so glad to have these Virginia folks know who I was!
From mile 15 to 18 is a long uphill grind on a dirt road - never too steep to want to hike, but long and sustained enough that I did hike portions last year. This year I was determined to run the whole thing, especially since my hamstring was limiting my downhills therefore I had to make good time on the uphills, so I dropped it into my 'first gear' and powered up the hill. Luckily, I found one similarly paced and similarly minded guy to match my stride up the hill. At the top of the climb we turned down a similar descent, and he was gone as I ran the downhill as best I could. I was really starting to feel my groove in the race, and while the hamstring hurt, everything else was going well...but there was still plenty of time to fall apart!
After a few miles of flat and rolling, at mile 23 the trail turns up for the big major climb of the course. Just at that point, a chick flew by me like I was standing still. She gave me a quick 'woohoo' as she stormed past me, and proceeded to open a gap on the uphills. 'Bummer', I thought, 'but did you really think you could win a race like this?'. I let her go, knowing that my goal was top 3 for this race - so I was still where I needed to be. I powered up the next few climbs at my own pace and found myself coming to the Long Mountain aid at around 4:17 (race time). I had been told that if I could get to that aid station before 4:15 that I had a great chance to break 9 hours, so I was a bit heart broken by that - but determined to hold onto a good placing in the race.
From Long Mountain to mile 29 is a most substantial climb of the course - and this is exactly what I had spent so much time training for. I hiked a few paces as I got in my fueling, but ran almost the entire climb. I was picking off guys left and right, and eventually I even saw the female leader coming back to me. I reeled her in, and hiked next to her for a few seconds to just touch base and see how she was doing and who she was. Then, I wished her luck and kept moving up the hill.
(I did get an update on the men's race just after Long Mountain, but the report went like this: 'there's some guy in the lead, we don't know who he is. There's a chase pack a ways back that includes Eric Grossman, Paul Terranova, that Roo-secki guy, and someone else that we don't know.' I thought it was pretty funny, but was bouyed by the fact that Brian was in the hunt - especially since he always seems to make his move between mile 25 and mile 35 on this course.)
Reaching the top of the climb, I was surprised at how strong my legs felt! I was back in the lead and feeling good, with 17 more miles to go! As I entered 'The Loop' (which is a 5 mile trail loop with an out-and-back section up a hill), I was excited to learn that Brian broke away from the chase pack and was in 2nd, hunting down the leader. Last year, the loop was knee deep in snow, so it was nice to actually see the trail as I ran along. I caught a toe and did a bit of a superman in this section - scraping my knee and elbow, but for me it wasn't a bad fall at all, barely any blood. I did my best to try to power through this section, hoping to have as big of a gap as possible during the out-and-back section. Unfortunately, during the 'out' section, I realized I was starting to tire. I powered up the hill as best I could, jamming my Gu Chomps down my throat to try to revive myself. 'Hold it together, you've come to far to fall apart now!'.
After reaching the top of the out-and-back, which puts you on top of a peak, I took a few seconds to take in the view. It's a shame that I was racing and couldn't stop for a bit longer, but the view was breathtaking - sweeping views of the rolling Blue Mountains in peak foliage. I checked my watch and took off on the downhill. About 4 minutes down, I saw the 2nd place female, and was pleased to see that it was Kathleen Cusick. I've raced her many times, and she is a super sweet and enthusiastic person...but she's also a strong hiker and fast ultra runner...so I knew I would have to race the full 50 miles today to hope to stay ahead of her. I did see the 3rd and 4th female just as I was exiting the out-and-back, and while both looked strong, I was hopeful that I had enough of a gap to stay ahead of them (barring an epic explosion!). This was going to come down to Kathleen versus me...that sounded all too familiar, and I was determined to beat her this time! [At VT100 in 2012, Kathleen and I both ran our 100-mile PRs on the same day, and it came down to me trying to chase her down over the last 12 miles to close a 40-minute gap, yet ultimately finishing 2 minutes behind her at the finish. She won, I was 2nd.]
After the loop is a downhill followed by a good climb - I was fortunate in this section to have several guys ahead of me, evenly spaced...so I would reel one in over 1/2 mile or so, pass them, and then see the next person to reel in. I was slowly moving up the field, and hoping to put as many folks between myself and Kathleen. I had to hike a few sections, and did what I could to hike strong - knowing that Kathleen is an exceptional hiker and she would gain time on me every time I had to hike. I was starting to tire, and was running on pure adrenaline and heart at this point.
After the mile 42 aid station, I knew that I had just one more 4-mile section of trail, then it was downhill to the finish line. I stretched out my stride, trying to reel in guy after guy and keep the pressure on. I was starting to stress out as the climbs, covered in slipperly leaves, were impossible to run so I was forced to hike. I kept looking over my shoulder, checking for signs of Kathleen closing in. I scrambled up the leaves, and used the downhills as best I could to keep the pace high.
At the mile 46 aid station, I knew it was just 4 downhill miles to the finish - which I seemed to recall had taken me about 30 minutes last year. I was pleased to look at my watch and see that it read 8:08 - perhaps I could break 9 hours after all! I didn't even break stride as I passed the aid station, but I did ask for an update on bib #1 (Brian), and heard he was winning. 'YAY!', I yelled as I passed the aid station 'That's my studly husband!'. The aid station volunteers seemed rather amused.
I did my best to run strong on the last downhill - but was worried as the nearest guy ahead of me opened up a gap. 'Am I slowing down or is this guy really good at downhills?' I ran with heart, I thought of all those pre-dawn runs with friends, I thought of all the times I dragged folks up and over the local mountains to prepare for this race, I thought of how it would feel to win this race, and I thought of my WMDP ladies running the marathon the next day that I was missing for this. At every look back, I was searching the trail behind me for Kathleen. My hamstring was burning, but I was trying to run as fast as I could inspite of that.
I felt little comfort at the 1-mile to go sign. Two years ago, Brian had gotten passed for the win in the last mile - last year, the women's lead also changed in the last mile. Could I avoid the curse of the last mile on this course? I ran as hard as I could, trying to reach the finish line as fast as I could. Over and over, I repeated 'The faster you run, the faster you're done.' to myself. The road mile seemed to fly by, luckily, and I found myself at the finish arch slapping high five with the RD Clark. I had made it - finishing in 8:39:01, and somehow winning the race! I had to fight back tears because I was so shocked by my race.
Brian was there immediately, and the first words out of my mouth were 'did we make it a husband-wife sweep?'. He nodded yes, and I gave him the biggest hug. I was so proud of what he did out there, and so proud of the race I had out there. It was something truly special for both of us, especially to share it together. I was especially excited to see that I ran a smart race - I was about 50th place through the entire first half of the race, and slowly worked my way up to catch half the folks ahead of me by the finish.
Kathleen finished strong, only 12 minutes back - and I think she was just as happy to have seen me win as she was with her own 2nd place. (Like I said, she's super sweet!) It was amazing to sit back at the finish, watch the top 10 ladies finish strong, share stories and hugs with everyone and truly enjoy this community that has become a family.
At the awards that night, as I was called up to get my trophy, Clark made special mention that I was able to complete the husband-wife sweep of the race. It was a nice acknowledgement and got a big cheer from the crowd. As the Patagonia rep snapped a shot of Brian and I with our trophies (and our newly earned Patagonia down vests), he commented that he wondered how often you get a husband-wife double victory - I answered 'that it happens from time to time in New England'! I know that I'll want to run this race again, but I doubt I'll ever top the experience of this year!
We got a mention at Runner's World: http://www.runnersworld.com/trail-racing/gray-and-kremer-win-trail-half-marathon-championships
(Memory of the 2012 race - where I ran for fun and tied with another female for 5th)
Anyway, Saturday morning came early. We loaded the bus and were off to the starting line. We ran into a few friends pre-race, so while we're not part of the Virginia trail running scene it felt great to see familar faces and hug friends before we embarked on our 50 mile trek.
The race started hot and heavy for the men's field, but easy for the ladies. I was quickly behind two Colorado ladies, and before I knew what I was doing I found myself easily cruising by them before the 1 mile marker. In my head, I was screaming at myself 'What are you doing?!? You are such an idiot, there's no possible way you can win this thing! Slow down!'. I tried to ignore the inner voice and just run easy at my pace - if my easy pace was ahead of these ladies, then who cares, right?
(Stream of headlamps across the pond from the start)
Just over a mile into the race, the course turns off the road and onto the trail, and through the first stream crossing of the day. Shoes...wet...shorts...wet...oh boy! About a quarter mile later was another river crossing, so there was no chance that anyone would have dry feet! Thank goodness my Roclites drain well! After a few miles of running, my left hamstring (which had given me a few issues in the days leading up to the race) quickly started to howl with pain. I nearly puked it hurt so bad. I contemplated turning around, but being in the lead so early on I was afraid of being seen as that jack a$$ who took off like a shot gun only to drop 2 miles in...so it was only pride that kept me from turning around and walking back to the starting line. I figured I'd at least get to the first aid station - I had driven 10 hours to get here after all!
As I ran the first climb, the hamstring hurt but it wasn't so bad that I was limping or had to stop - so I did my best to ignore the pain. It felt like I was ripping the hamstring in half, but I knew from experiencing this before that it's just an adhesion in my leg...so while it's incredibly painful, no damage would actually occur. I enjoyed the early miles, eventhough I was running in solitude so early on - the trails were great and as the sun rose it was making the entire forest glow orange and yellow with the foliage.
(Glowing foliage as the sun came up)
Through the first aid station, and the 2nd place girl was about 30 seconds back. But, I still felt in control so I relaxed to run my race. On the first downhill, I found that my hamstring was crying in pain, and I had to shorten my stride to manage the pain...and I had to pray to not catch a toe which would have caused worse issues. I ran conservatively down the hill as guy after guy streamed past me, but surprisingly none of the ladies passed me. Due to the hamstring, I was actually excited when the trail turned up, which my training buddies know is rare for me.
A few more easy miles of trail and jeep road, and one more river crossing and we were in the next aid station. The RD Clark Zealand was there and gave me a cheer, seemingly genuinly pleased that I was in the lead. I was bummed to find that there weren't any gels at the first aid station, but just 100 feet down the trail I found an unopened gel on the ground - so I picked it up and ate it. Double bonus - cleaning the trail of litter...and I got a gel! (I know, it's gross, but i promise you it's not the grossest thing that happened out there on Saturday.)
(Amazing views along the course)
After rolling through several more miles of jeep trail, I was passing some guys who went out too fast, while other guys were passing me. At the mile 15 aid station, Dave Horton, former RD of this race, gave me a huge cheer and a pat on the back as I went by - I was so glad to have these Virginia folks know who I was!
From mile 15 to 18 is a long uphill grind on a dirt road - never too steep to want to hike, but long and sustained enough that I did hike portions last year. This year I was determined to run the whole thing, especially since my hamstring was limiting my downhills therefore I had to make good time on the uphills, so I dropped it into my 'first gear' and powered up the hill. Luckily, I found one similarly paced and similarly minded guy to match my stride up the hill. At the top of the climb we turned down a similar descent, and he was gone as I ran the downhill as best I could. I was really starting to feel my groove in the race, and while the hamstring hurt, everything else was going well...but there was still plenty of time to fall apart!
(Uphill grind - doesn't look bad, right? Try running up 3 miles of it!)
After a few miles of flat and rolling, at mile 23 the trail turns up for the big major climb of the course. Just at that point, a chick flew by me like I was standing still. She gave me a quick 'woohoo' as she stormed past me, and proceeded to open a gap on the uphills. 'Bummer', I thought, 'but did you really think you could win a race like this?'. I let her go, knowing that my goal was top 3 for this race - so I was still where I needed to be. I powered up the next few climbs at my own pace and found myself coming to the Long Mountain aid at around 4:17 (race time). I had been told that if I could get to that aid station before 4:15 that I had a great chance to break 9 hours, so I was a bit heart broken by that - but determined to hold onto a good placing in the race.
From Long Mountain to mile 29 is a most substantial climb of the course - and this is exactly what I had spent so much time training for. I hiked a few paces as I got in my fueling, but ran almost the entire climb. I was picking off guys left and right, and eventually I even saw the female leader coming back to me. I reeled her in, and hiked next to her for a few seconds to just touch base and see how she was doing and who she was. Then, I wished her luck and kept moving up the hill.
(Views from just before Long Mountain)
(I did get an update on the men's race just after Long Mountain, but the report went like this: 'there's some guy in the lead, we don't know who he is. There's a chase pack a ways back that includes Eric Grossman, Paul Terranova, that Roo-secki guy, and someone else that we don't know.' I thought it was pretty funny, but was bouyed by the fact that Brian was in the hunt - especially since he always seems to make his move between mile 25 and mile 35 on this course.)
Reaching the top of the climb, I was surprised at how strong my legs felt! I was back in the lead and feeling good, with 17 more miles to go! As I entered 'The Loop' (which is a 5 mile trail loop with an out-and-back section up a hill), I was excited to learn that Brian broke away from the chase pack and was in 2nd, hunting down the leader. Last year, the loop was knee deep in snow, so it was nice to actually see the trail as I ran along. I caught a toe and did a bit of a superman in this section - scraping my knee and elbow, but for me it wasn't a bad fall at all, barely any blood. I did my best to try to power through this section, hoping to have as big of a gap as possible during the out-and-back section. Unfortunately, during the 'out' section, I realized I was starting to tire. I powered up the hill as best I could, jamming my Gu Chomps down my throat to try to revive myself. 'Hold it together, you've come to far to fall apart now!'.
(The view from the top of the out-and-back)
After the loop is a downhill followed by a good climb - I was fortunate in this section to have several guys ahead of me, evenly spaced...so I would reel one in over 1/2 mile or so, pass them, and then see the next person to reel in. I was slowly moving up the field, and hoping to put as many folks between myself and Kathleen. I had to hike a few sections, and did what I could to hike strong - knowing that Kathleen is an exceptional hiker and she would gain time on me every time I had to hike. I was starting to tire, and was running on pure adrenaline and heart at this point.
(Typical trail - can't see it? Look to the right of the photo, trust me, it's there.)
After the mile 42 aid station, I knew that I had just one more 4-mile section of trail, then it was downhill to the finish line. I stretched out my stride, trying to reel in guy after guy and keep the pressure on. I was starting to stress out as the climbs, covered in slipperly leaves, were impossible to run so I was forced to hike. I kept looking over my shoulder, checking for signs of Kathleen closing in. I scrambled up the leaves, and used the downhills as best I could to keep the pace high.
At the mile 46 aid station, I knew it was just 4 downhill miles to the finish - which I seemed to recall had taken me about 30 minutes last year. I was pleased to look at my watch and see that it read 8:08 - perhaps I could break 9 hours after all! I didn't even break stride as I passed the aid station, but I did ask for an update on bib #1 (Brian), and heard he was winning. 'YAY!', I yelled as I passed the aid station 'That's my studly husband!'. The aid station volunteers seemed rather amused.
(What the trail looked like in 2012 - covered in snow)
I did my best to run strong on the last downhill - but was worried as the nearest guy ahead of me opened up a gap. 'Am I slowing down or is this guy really good at downhills?' I ran with heart, I thought of all those pre-dawn runs with friends, I thought of all the times I dragged folks up and over the local mountains to prepare for this race, I thought of how it would feel to win this race, and I thought of my WMDP ladies running the marathon the next day that I was missing for this. At every look back, I was searching the trail behind me for Kathleen. My hamstring was burning, but I was trying to run as fast as I could inspite of that.
I felt little comfort at the 1-mile to go sign. Two years ago, Brian had gotten passed for the win in the last mile - last year, the women's lead also changed in the last mile. Could I avoid the curse of the last mile on this course? I ran as hard as I could, trying to reach the finish line as fast as I could. Over and over, I repeated 'The faster you run, the faster you're done.' to myself. The road mile seemed to fly by, luckily, and I found myself at the finish arch slapping high five with the RD Clark. I had made it - finishing in 8:39:01, and somehow winning the race! I had to fight back tears because I was so shocked by my race.
(Views from the course in 2012, what a difference)
Brian was there immediately, and the first words out of my mouth were 'did we make it a husband-wife sweep?'. He nodded yes, and I gave him the biggest hug. I was so proud of what he did out there, and so proud of the race I had out there. It was something truly special for both of us, especially to share it together. I was especially excited to see that I ran a smart race - I was about 50th place through the entire first half of the race, and slowly worked my way up to catch half the folks ahead of me by the finish.
Kathleen finished strong, only 12 minutes back - and I think she was just as happy to have seen me win as she was with her own 2nd place. (Like I said, she's super sweet!) It was amazing to sit back at the finish, watch the top 10 ladies finish strong, share stories and hugs with everyone and truly enjoy this community that has become a family.
At the awards that night, as I was called up to get my trophy, Clark made special mention that I was able to complete the husband-wife sweep of the race. It was a nice acknowledgement and got a big cheer from the crowd. As the Patagonia rep snapped a shot of Brian and I with our trophies (and our newly earned Patagonia down vests), he commented that he wondered how often you get a husband-wife double victory - I answered 'that it happens from time to time in New England'! I know that I'll want to run this race again, but I doubt I'll ever top the experience of this year!
(Brian and I with our winnings - a happy couple ready to head north)
We got a mention at Runner's World: http://www.runnersworld.com/trail-racing/gray-and-kremer-win-trail-half-marathon-championships
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
New England Fall at its best - Bimbler's Bluff 50k Race Report
This past weekend, Brian and I headed to CT to participate in the Bimbler's Bluff 50k. This was our 4th trip to this race - last year we missed the Bluff to try our hand at Tussey Mountainback...clearly it wasn't our style of racing, cause this year we were back at the Bluff. And what's not to love about this race - it's during peak fall foliage in southern CT, it's put on by an amazing group of folks, and it's a low key race that in our hectic and stressful life is a welcome relief.
I was pretty excited to have my training buddy Jason also running, so we shared a plan to run the first several hours together. This would be his second ultra, and I was looking forward to sharing portions of the race with him. I was also hoping to help hold him back in the early portions of the race so that he could ultimately pace himself for a strong finish.
Brian, Jason and I lined up on the starting line, and Brian took it out hard as Jason and I fell into stride with a pack about 10 runners back. We easily covered the first few hours, chatting like it was a training run. I felt strong, I knew the course well enough to know how to approach each section, and luckily I had great company to pass the early miles. Others came and went, but Jason and I stuck together and had some fun.
The two of us got separated after the mile 12 aid station at the race namesake Bluff, which is the quintessential climb of the course. I stopped to use the woods on the climb as Jason power hiked away. I didn't care, he was running strong and I wasn't about to miss the amazing views from the Bluff to track him down (and those views are my FAVORITE part of the race). After the climb, I was feeling good and put in a bit of a surge to catch back up to Jason. As I tracked him down, we were cruising an awesome downhill. Just after I caught him, however, the runner ahead of us stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at us.
That runner was at an intersection, and there weren't any flags. The three of us scampered around to look for any course markings, as a few other runners cruised the downhill and joined us. A moment of panic set in as I realized I didn't remember when I had last seen flagging - I had been focusing on Jason's back and trying to catch him! After several intense moments, we decided we must have missed a turn and started to hike back up the hill we had so recently be pleasantly cruising down. It took us about 5 minutes to rejoin the course - and we all cursed ourselves for missing a well marked turn in the course.
Once on course again, I worked to calm down and not try to make up all the lost places at once - I had 20 more miles to hopefully make up for my error. I would have to wait until the next aid station to even get information on whether another female had passed while I was off doing bonus miles - so Jason and I tried our best to be relaxed, get back to our gabbing, and enjoy the course.
Just before the next aid station, Jason let out a yell and stopped suddenly. He entered the race with a questionable ankle - and on this super rocky course he twisted it bad. We stopped for a moment to evaluate it, I wasn't about to abandon my friend out there. After a few test steps, he told me he would be ok, but for me to continue on. Luckily, I knew that an aid station was just ahead so I was able to reassure him that help was only 5 or 10 minutes up the trail. I felt bad leaving him, but figured with more than half the race left, plenty of leaf covered rocks and loose stones on the trail, and a painful ankle, that he would hike to the next aid station and get a ride to the finish.
At the aid station, I got information that I was now 2nd place female, but only a few minutes behind the leader. Knowing that the lead female had only a few minutes on me, I left the aid station determined to run strong over the next section and see if I could reel her in.
About a mile out of the aid station, I came upon the first female, and she was running strong. We fell into stride together, as we chatted a bit. After about a mile, the trail turned up, and amazingly I ran away from her without trying - she was just there one minute and not there the next. I happened to be keeping pace with a nice gentleman, and we enjoyed running through the new trail section that featured mountain bike trails...it added about an extra mile to the previous course's distance, but it was fun! I was grateful he was there, because a few time I almost missed a turn or he almost missed a turn, but between the two of us we kept on track.
A few miles later, we saw one of the lead runners coming directly towards us - which was unnerving. I felt fairly confident that we were on the correct course and heading in the right direction, but we did chat with the 'lost' runner quickly - he felt just as confident that he was correct, so we both went our own way. Luckily, another 1/2 mile down the trail I saw a familiar site, a lake by the next aid station, and knew we were on trail and going the right way - I told the guy I was with assuming he was just as anxious as I was after the lost runner encounter.
After the lake aid station, I knew I had about 10 rolling and challenging miles to go. As I glanced at my watch I saw that with getting lost and the new mileage in the mountain bike trails I was well behind my anticipated time - there was no catching my course record today. So, I decided to enjoy the last few hours, run strong, but the only goal was to see if I could maintain the lead female position.
I caught a few folks along the last section, hung back to stay with them even when they encouraged me to go ahead - I just felt like I would rather have company than finish a few minutes faster. One gentleman I caught was in rough shape - he was walking a downhill and appeared to have completely bonked. I stopped to walk beside him for a bit, offering him a gu and fluids - he said he had run out of fluids and was dehydrated, so I encouraged him to take most of what was left in my bottle. I knew the next aid station was only a mile or two ahead of us.
Passing the last aid station, I knew I had an easy/downhill half hour or so to the finish. I ran mostly alone, but was surprised to see the bonked guy catch back up with me with about a mile to go. The two of us pushed together to the finish line, ultimately finishing in a tie. As I looked around, I found Brian, but was confused to not find Jason.
After about a half hour, Jason cruised down the last downhill and across the line. I was so proud that he stuck with the race and ultimately finished, even if his time wasn't what he expected. Neither of us had the race we had anticipated, but we both got it done!
Brian had a rough day - he was in the lead group, which got lost several times. As he tells it, the entire lead back ran past a turn around mile 20, and only one person from the back of the pack saw and took the turn - but didn't alert anyone else to their error, letting them run on by and miss the turn. The guy who took the correct turn ultimately won, while Brian ran several bonus miles, eventually finishing 2nd. One of the other guys from the lead back took an incorrect turn bad enough to end up off trail and in the middle of a nearby town. It was a mess in the top 3 or 5 guys. Either way, Brian got in a good long training run, but ultimately we're both disappointed with the behavior of the runner who took the turn and didn't alert anyone else (if that's what really happened - I will acknowledge that what is perceived and what actually happened might not be the same thing and it's possible that the runner fell back and wasn't really with the lead group when they passed the turn...I wasn't there so I don't know, but Brian and the other lead guys all remember a pretty similar situation). Either way, in the name of sportsmanship, I would like to believe that what Brian believes didn't happen, because as much as we might be racing each other, I find ultrarunning to be a sport of challenging yourself to improve regardless of those around you. It would sicken me to know, for sure, that a runner had acted in such an unsportsmanlike manner to basically 'steal' the win by allowing others to go off course when he could have stopped it.
I did a lot of reflecting post-race about the course marking. Initially, I was angry and thinking critically about the RD regarding 'poor flagging'. I mean...Brian, Jason and I, as well as countless others, all got lost out there! However, upon further thought, I understand that it's fall in New England and the foliage is extremely prominent and colorful. Further, this race is on trails that are open to the public, so flagging can only be hung off the trees not placed across the trail or the ground - which would be more visible as we stare down at the trail in hopes of not tripping on one of the many rocks. When I listed every conceivable color of flagging, I couldn't easily come up with a color that would stand out against the foliage and bright sun. Orange - nope, green - nope, blue - nope, yellow - nope, red - nope...the RD used red and white flagging, which is likely the best option to stand out against the colors of fall. While I think a few locations could have used a bit more strategic locations for the markings, I think that the RD did the best he could, and that this year was an exceptionally tough year with a bright sun in the sky and colorful leaves on the trees and ground. All in all, those who are critical of the RD should take the time to try to organize their own race - you'll quickly learn some respect for how challenging it is, and you'll learn to thank all the selfless volunteers and race directors out there that put on the races that we so often enjoy!
I was pretty excited to have my training buddy Jason also running, so we shared a plan to run the first several hours together. This would be his second ultra, and I was looking forward to sharing portions of the race with him. I was also hoping to help hold him back in the early portions of the race so that he could ultimately pace himself for a strong finish.
(Off the line - myself and Brian with Jason, in black)
Brian, Jason and I lined up on the starting line, and Brian took it out hard as Jason and I fell into stride with a pack about 10 runners back. We easily covered the first few hours, chatting like it was a training run. I felt strong, I knew the course well enough to know how to approach each section, and luckily I had great company to pass the early miles. Others came and went, but Jason and I stuck together and had some fun.
The two of us got separated after the mile 12 aid station at the race namesake Bluff, which is the quintessential climb of the course. I stopped to use the woods on the climb as Jason power hiked away. I didn't care, he was running strong and I wasn't about to miss the amazing views from the Bluff to track him down (and those views are my FAVORITE part of the race). After the climb, I was feeling good and put in a bit of a surge to catch back up to Jason. As I tracked him down, we were cruising an awesome downhill. Just after I caught him, however, the runner ahead of us stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at us.
(Coming off the Bluff)
That runner was at an intersection, and there weren't any flags. The three of us scampered around to look for any course markings, as a few other runners cruised the downhill and joined us. A moment of panic set in as I realized I didn't remember when I had last seen flagging - I had been focusing on Jason's back and trying to catch him! After several intense moments, we decided we must have missed a turn and started to hike back up the hill we had so recently be pleasantly cruising down. It took us about 5 minutes to rejoin the course - and we all cursed ourselves for missing a well marked turn in the course.
Once on course again, I worked to calm down and not try to make up all the lost places at once - I had 20 more miles to hopefully make up for my error. I would have to wait until the next aid station to even get information on whether another female had passed while I was off doing bonus miles - so Jason and I tried our best to be relaxed, get back to our gabbing, and enjoy the course.
Just before the next aid station, Jason let out a yell and stopped suddenly. He entered the race with a questionable ankle - and on this super rocky course he twisted it bad. We stopped for a moment to evaluate it, I wasn't about to abandon my friend out there. After a few test steps, he told me he would be ok, but for me to continue on. Luckily, I knew that an aid station was just ahead so I was able to reassure him that help was only 5 or 10 minutes up the trail. I felt bad leaving him, but figured with more than half the race left, plenty of leaf covered rocks and loose stones on the trail, and a painful ankle, that he would hike to the next aid station and get a ride to the finish.
(One of the many views from the Bluff)
About a mile out of the aid station, I came upon the first female, and she was running strong. We fell into stride together, as we chatted a bit. After about a mile, the trail turned up, and amazingly I ran away from her without trying - she was just there one minute and not there the next. I happened to be keeping pace with a nice gentleman, and we enjoyed running through the new trail section that featured mountain bike trails...it added about an extra mile to the previous course's distance, but it was fun! I was grateful he was there, because a few time I almost missed a turn or he almost missed a turn, but between the two of us we kept on track.
(One of the obstacles from the 2009 race - they have since put a bridge at this location)
A few miles later, we saw one of the lead runners coming directly towards us - which was unnerving. I felt fairly confident that we were on the correct course and heading in the right direction, but we did chat with the 'lost' runner quickly - he felt just as confident that he was correct, so we both went our own way. Luckily, another 1/2 mile down the trail I saw a familiar site, a lake by the next aid station, and knew we were on trail and going the right way - I told the guy I was with assuming he was just as anxious as I was after the lost runner encounter.
After the lake aid station, I knew I had about 10 rolling and challenging miles to go. As I glanced at my watch I saw that with getting lost and the new mileage in the mountain bike trails I was well behind my anticipated time - there was no catching my course record today. So, I decided to enjoy the last few hours, run strong, but the only goal was to see if I could maintain the lead female position.
I caught a few folks along the last section, hung back to stay with them even when they encouraged me to go ahead - I just felt like I would rather have company than finish a few minutes faster. One gentleman I caught was in rough shape - he was walking a downhill and appeared to have completely bonked. I stopped to walk beside him for a bit, offering him a gu and fluids - he said he had run out of fluids and was dehydrated, so I encouraged him to take most of what was left in my bottle. I knew the next aid station was only a mile or two ahead of us.
(Crossing the finish line with 'bonked guy')
Passing the last aid station, I knew I had an easy/downhill half hour or so to the finish. I ran mostly alone, but was surprised to see the bonked guy catch back up with me with about a mile to go. The two of us pushed together to the finish line, ultimately finishing in a tie. As I looked around, I found Brian, but was confused to not find Jason.
After about a half hour, Jason cruised down the last downhill and across the line. I was so proud that he stuck with the race and ultimately finished, even if his time wasn't what he expected. Neither of us had the race we had anticipated, but we both got it done!
Brian had a rough day - he was in the lead group, which got lost several times. As he tells it, the entire lead back ran past a turn around mile 20, and only one person from the back of the pack saw and took the turn - but didn't alert anyone else to their error, letting them run on by and miss the turn. The guy who took the correct turn ultimately won, while Brian ran several bonus miles, eventually finishing 2nd. One of the other guys from the lead back took an incorrect turn bad enough to end up off trail and in the middle of a nearby town. It was a mess in the top 3 or 5 guys. Either way, Brian got in a good long training run, but ultimately we're both disappointed with the behavior of the runner who took the turn and didn't alert anyone else (if that's what really happened - I will acknowledge that what is perceived and what actually happened might not be the same thing and it's possible that the runner fell back and wasn't really with the lead group when they passed the turn...I wasn't there so I don't know, but Brian and the other lead guys all remember a pretty similar situation). Either way, in the name of sportsmanship, I would like to believe that what Brian believes didn't happen, because as much as we might be racing each other, I find ultrarunning to be a sport of challenging yourself to improve regardless of those around you. It would sicken me to know, for sure, that a runner had acted in such an unsportsmanlike manner to basically 'steal' the win by allowing others to go off course when he could have stopped it.
(Brian on the Bluff)
I did a lot of reflecting post-race about the course marking. Initially, I was angry and thinking critically about the RD regarding 'poor flagging'. I mean...Brian, Jason and I, as well as countless others, all got lost out there! However, upon further thought, I understand that it's fall in New England and the foliage is extremely prominent and colorful. Further, this race is on trails that are open to the public, so flagging can only be hung off the trees not placed across the trail or the ground - which would be more visible as we stare down at the trail in hopes of not tripping on one of the many rocks. When I listed every conceivable color of flagging, I couldn't easily come up with a color that would stand out against the foliage and bright sun. Orange - nope, green - nope, blue - nope, yellow - nope, red - nope...the RD used red and white flagging, which is likely the best option to stand out against the colors of fall. While I think a few locations could have used a bit more strategic locations for the markings, I think that the RD did the best he could, and that this year was an exceptionally tough year with a bright sun in the sky and colorful leaves on the trees and ground. All in all, those who are critical of the RD should take the time to try to organize their own race - you'll quickly learn some respect for how challenging it is, and you'll learn to thank all the selfless volunteers and race directors out there that put on the races that we so often enjoy!
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