ROAD ID Ad in Runner's World

As some of you have noted, I was featured in an advertisement for Road ID in the July issue of Runner's World (pg. 104). I am quite honored to be the first "actual" person they have used in an ad that accompanied a quote from that person. In addition, I am glad to have worked with the owners of ROAD ID in an attempt to make sure that every person out there running (or walking) where the appropriate form of identification in case of an accident.

That is also to the key word: "accident". In speaking with the owners, I told them that their usual ads were effective (wherein someone spoke how an accident had occurred to them and without ROAD ID they would have been in major trouble) but the problem is that most of us believe accidents happen to the "other" guy. But on the day when something happens to you that you do not expect, you become that other guy to everyone else.

So we worked together to show how, even if nothing bad happens to you, you can have the peace of mind to know that, if it did, your loved ones will know where you are by wearing ROAD ID. And that added peace of mind lets you run free.

If you don't have ROAD ID, you should. And if you click HERE proceeds from your purchase go to help L'Arche Mobile. It's a win-win situation.

And if you keep that issue of RW, I promise to sign it for you. :)

Ocean City Half Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 2; 5th Edition
109.5 miles raced in 2007
Race: Ocean City Half Marathon
Place: Ocean City, MD
Miles from home: 150
Course Difficulty: 2.5 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 4 out of 10
Weather: 20-30s; gusting wind, snow
Finishers' Medal: 4 out of 10

Someone does not want this to be easy for me.

For the third consecutive weekend my goal was to get an automatic qualifying time for the NYC Marathon. Again, I am not even sure if I want to run the damn thing. I just want to be automatically qualified to do so if the desire strikes me. The way things lie, if properly rested, I know the qualifying standards (1:23 for a half or 2:55 for a full) would be easily obtained by me. That is not arrogance but rather a statement of my present running level and the relative ease of those standards. If you read my recaps you know I am not properly rested. Ideally, I would like to rest more. However, with a May 1st deadline to get these times, I don't have much time to waste.

If you read my recaps you know about the distance measurement snafu at National Half Marathon (where an amended time did give me a 1:22:50; I know I ran faster and I also know I don't want an amended time in order to get in. I want a "pure" time); and my loss of energy at the Martian Marathon in Detroit last weekend. While proud of both, the races left me lacking what I wanted.

So I geared up for the Ocean City Half Marathon in Maryland. I knew I would not be in peak condition given this would be my second half marathon (with a full marathon thrown in the middle) in 14 days.. But given the flatness of the course, I felt I would be in for a good race. If the weather cooperated, that is. The weather, most assuredly, did not.

The Course:
The half marathon and the full all start at the same place: a parking lot near the Ocean City Boardwalk. Runners then cross a small bridge to the mainland, do a few twists and turns through some neighborhoods, hit the highway to run on the side of the road, go through some back roads, hit the highway again, cross the bridge to Assateague and *BLAM*, that's the course. Those two bridges I mentioned are the ONLY whiff you ever receive of any elevation change. The last bridge has a short steep incline followed by a longer decline to take you to the last straight run before turning into a parking lot to finish.

You can see why I felt this was as good a shot as any to set a crushing personal best. For those who need it, there is little-to-no fan support (which I blame partially on the weather but also I recall it being sparse last year). A few water stations, but not as many as one would hope, (then again it is only a half marathon) are manned by cheerful volunteers. On a nice day, the run, while on a highway, can be very pretty with some old tree-lined roads to traverse. The final bridge is quite pretty as well as the water surges underneath you.

My race: 1st 3 miles
A failed air horn that sounded like the last dying breath of a cat signaled the start. Too bad we all only moved about 3 inches waiting for anyone to tell us it was ok to go. A second, nearly as weak, blast told us to take off and after a little shuffle and lots of beeping of watches we started the race (I was still fiddling with my own watch after the horn because the start took me by surprise. I had been speaking with one runner who recognized me from Delaware last year when another friend, Czan, grabbed me from behind. I had seen Czan running at least three separate times last year so this was quite a surprise. However, our talk was short lived as we were called to attention by Garfield's meow for lasagna and had to start running). With a loop through the parking lot before hitting the boardwalk, I had already seen a few other friends, and told them my plan for the day which would explain why I might not be so chatty. Unfortunately, my voice was lost to winds gusting over 30 mph off of the ocean and right into our face.

I arrived the evening before this race and the weather had been perfect. No wind, blue skies and a temperature about 50 degrees greeted me. With calls for snow (snow!!) the next morning, I could not see how this was possible. Unfortunately, it was. Barely half a mile into the race, the snowflakes, big and fluffy, clung to my gorgeous eyelashes (I am only partially kidding; they are so pretty) like sailors thrown overboard in a storm. As we hit the boardwalk, the wind blew fistfuls of sand at our faces and I felt like I was in a head-to-toe exfoliating machine. Glad this sandblast only lasted a few seconds. I assumed that once we crossed the bridge and hit the mainland, this wind would die down as well.

Unfortunately, crossing the bridge itself turned out to be more than I bargained for. Wind blowing me side to side, I crossed over one of the grated parts of the bridge and, like Marilyn Monroe, had my shirt blown straight up. If I had better abs I would not have minded but I like my shirt on. I was actually fearful the wind would rip my bib number off of my shirt (thankfully I went with long sleeves. On my ride back to the start, I saw the female leader was wearing nothing but a sports bar. MY lord!).

I missed both the first two mile markers but felt that was not a problem. I looked ahead and saw fellow DC runner Mike Wardian (who had just qualified for the Olympic Trials in the marathon) not too far in front of me and figured I could not have been doing too bad if he was in sight.

However, I assumed the wind might have slowed me some and my goal pace of 6:05 per mile might be a little off. As the third mile marker appeared, I was flabbergasted to see a reading of 20 minutes on my watch. I was already 105 seconds off my pace!!! I almost stopped right there. I had no idea if the miles were right or what but I decided to pray they were and move on. I wasn't sure how I was going to make up nearly two minutes of times, especially since I felt I was pushing it already.

Miles 4-10:
The wind died a little bit for half of these miles and I settled into what I thought was a brisk pace. Two young guys (one 19 and the other 15; yep FIFTEEN) were in front of me but I assumed they would not last for long. Around mile 6 another guy saddled up to me. I found out he was 51. What in the heck is going on here with the random ages?! For the next mile or so, 15, 19, 30, and 51 year olds played a chess game of seeing who was stronger or who wanted to battle the wind (which was swirling at this point). Soon, it played out in reverse age order as the 51 year old began to pull away, I settled in behind him and the 19 year old and 15 year old followed suit. Slowly the 51 y/o inched closer to what appeared to be 1st and 2nd place runners in the half. I pulled away from the two behind me and felt I was gaining on the three ahead of me as well.

Putting forth a tremendous amount of effort I cannot tell you how frustrated I was to continually see myself running 6:23s or 6:27s. Heck, I had barely run much slower than that in my full marathon just 6 days before! (Of course, that may be part of the problem). I was trying to do math in my head but it seemed like I had no chance in hell to get a sub 1:23. It looked like a 1:25 would be a blessing.

Miles 11-12:
I began picking up every second I could. Running on the innermost part of the lane where the cones were, making sure my arms were properly aligned, breathing fully in and out, and everything else I could think of to try and gain some time (as well as some ground on the three guys in front of me). It seemed to work on the mile leading up to 11 so I simply put my head down (figuratively) and plowed forward. I all of a sudden realized that after a year of running marathons, it is hard for me to run all-out at mile 11. My body won't let me. It thinks I have 15 miles to go, not just two. But I tried to over ride my senses and go with all I could. Talk about having your body over-riding your mind!

Finish:
Up the bridge to Assateague Island I surged. I knew I was finally running fast. For once, the wind was at my back and I could feel it. I took the hill as hard as I could while leaving just enough in the tank for the final surge. Down the hill, I flew with a photographer at the bottom snapping away. I have a feeling the pictures will show me airborne.

I then hit a lonely stretch off the bridge which would lead to the finish. I knew the end was around somewhere but where exactly I could not tell. This unknown was hindering me as I did not know how hard to push it or when I could unleash everything I had left. As I ran on, heading back the opposite direction was Mike Wardian. I would soon find out that the race organizers were going to cancel the full marathon because of the conditions but Mike had run through the half-way point before a decision had been made. So, they decided to let it go on. I gave him a quick shout and tried again to push forward.


Snow whipping around me, my shorts, shirt and gloves soaked, I turned one last time into a parking lot. I still could not see the finish line but knew it had to be around the bend. I looked down at my watch. 1:22:55. Unless the finish line appeared in front of me magically, I was toast. Much to my chagrin it did not.

Around another bend, and finally the clock and finish line appeared. I turned it into high gear and crossed the line in 1:23:52. Somehow I had run the last 2.1 miles in about 12:38 (or 6:01 pace). (View video here thanks to Anne braving the weather: Click HERE!!!). Good enough for fourth overall but not good enough for me, I only kept from swearing knowing Anne was filming. Barely out of breath when I finished, I can only wish I had turned on the jets earlier and more often.

Later on, we collected my trophy and I took the time to speak to one of the race directors. One of the more friendly RDs I have stayed in touch with since Fiddy2 started, I wanted to at least thank him before I departed. I told him that he can't control the weather and I think everyone had a great time regardless.

As it ended up, the 19 year old did indeed finish 5th, albeit a few minutes behind me. First, second and third place stayed in a tight cluster. I could never put on the wheels to catch them and they finished about a minute in front of me all just barely breaking 1:23.
I guess it was not my day. But, as my mother later said to me, in spite of the close calls I had during Fiddy2, I never had a race cancelled and always got through them without the worst of conditions (although I had some nasty ones that is for sure). I guess it was time for things to not go my way for a few races.

So one more chance for me to qualify looms in three weeks when I travel to Seoul, Korea as part of the representative team of the 50 States Marathon Club. A 2:55:00 or less gets me in; anything else means I will have to enter the lottery like everyone else. Sure wish I had knew about these qualifying times sooner.

Martian Marathon

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 2; 4th Edition
96.4 miles raced
Race: Martian Marathon
Place: Novi, MI
Miles from home: 520
Course Difficulty: 6 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 5 out of 10
Weather: 50-60s, overcast
Finishers' Medal: 7.5 out of 10

Just one week removed from the National Half Marathon, I found myself in Michigan to knock off one of the states on my list to complete all 50 states. While a nice little goal, hitting all 50 states is not really the biggest goal on my mind these days. However, cheap airfare, a low registration fee and free room and board were difficult to bypass. In addition, this race also has many ties to people I had a chance to encounter last year and was also on my list of races before cheaper races came along. So running the Martian Marathon was added to my list just a few months ago when I remembered it was there.

Why is it called the Martian Marathon? At my time of writing this I am unsure. However, when I posed the question to the running boards on the internet, I got the following response:

Randy Step, the race organizer, is a fun, interesting guy who is just a little bit nutty. He owns 3 local running stores and is a big supporter of the local running community. Last year the race was also run on April 1, like this year, but for all the previous years, it was run in March, which Randy proclaims is the month of Mars. Me-thinks the whole Martian idea was cooked up when consuming several adult beverages after a tough trail run. The whole "Martian" thing gets bigger every year. Like the addition of the 50 or so inflatable Martians that guided you to package pickup. (I bought a 48 inch one that is seated at my kitchen table right now!)

So there you go. No real need for any more explanation that that, right?

Surprisingly, I have no complaints about the airline industry on this trip, mostly because it was a direct flight but also because I did not purchase a thesaurus to find new ways to express my distaste. (How can it be heightened security if it has been at the same level for five years? It is like a mattress store having always having its mattresses "on sale". Sorry, that is their "price". But I digress.) If anything, like a good referee or offensive lineman, I can say that I did not notice the airlines this time, which is usually a very good thing.

The Course:

It was hard to get a read on the course in the days approaching the race, as it has changed a variety of times in the past few years. This can either be interpreted as unease amongst the race director or a response to constructive criticism from runners. I am pretty sure it was the latter as the RD seems to be a pretty responsive chap.
If anything, the course looked like a decently flat course with some rolling hills. Running it did not change much of that opinion except for the fact that, on the way back of this out and back course, the downhills we obviously ran seemed to be far less of a help than the uphills. But no major complaints. It was challenging without being too hard.

Look below for the course elevation (with its odd-ass random numbers on the left):

My race: 1st half:

I started off from the get go with the intention of running a 2:55 which would be almost a 5 minute personal best. As I have been reminded of constantly, I have not been specifically training for a marathon and really have not given myself proper rest to try and set large drops in time. I disagree. I think it is possible to train for a half-marathon, marathon, 50k and 100 miler at the same time. Granted, I do agree that even if I set a marathon personal best, chances are that I could do far better. Whatever time I set could probably come down a great deal with more rest and focused training. However, as I have stated repeatedly, I am never going to be an elite runner. Why should I put so much effort into one particular race or one distance when there is so much out there in life to enjoy? I have not even got to triathlons, adventure racing or anything else.

So while I continue to push the boundaries of what my body can handle, I also have to become a little deaf to the statements of others telling me what I should do.
Now, I have only run one sub-3 hour marathon before in my life. It was an amazing feeling. I was unable to obtain it again throughout Fiddy2 even though I had several close calls. But I felt I had it in me this day (or deluded myself enough to think I might). I knew a pace 6:40 miles would get me this goal, so I decided I would run that pace as long as I could. Almost immediately, I found myself running next to a tiny little girl who I noticed was also running the full (same color bib number). Given the plethora of half marathoners surrounding us I figured she might be the elite runner that was listed on the website. I was correct. Through a few questions, I found out that this was her third marathon and she too was planning on running 6:40s. So we decided to work together. Natalie was her name (which will be very coincidental as you will see) and she had a PR of 2:52. This was the definitely the girl to hang with, in spite of her continued comments about being worried about her conditioning.

A few miles in and we had a good caravan surrounding us. Gabe, Dan, Rich, Natalie and I began to tick off the miles together. Since we were running together I felt like the ring master and decided to break everyone out of their silence by asking questions. Dan was the only one running the half-marathon (in training for Boston) but we all exchanged pleasantries. Before a few miles passed, Rich hit the bathroom and we lost Dan at his turn-around point. Gabe, Nat and I then began working as a three-legged machine. Gabe, a triathlete running his first marathon-only event in years, also had his wife running the race as well (a little ways back). Mile after mile we were consistently hitting under 6:40s, building a little bank of time. Not much, but about 20 seconds or so and we never felt like we were pushing. Everyone was feeling good. I was glad because I do not believe in "banking" time. My comment that you can lose a bank of 30 seconds in one mile was definitely one tinged with foreshadowing.

I hit the halfway mark at 1:26:20 which, barring last week's new half marathon best, would have beat my previous half-marathon time by 30 seconds. Not too shabby. I felt the 2:55 was in hand but wanted to still respect the distance.

Miles 13.1-16:

Continuing to feel great we churned out 6:36s for the next three miles, building our time gap even greater. I saw Kathy (my host for the weekend) a few times and she loudly cheered and took a little video for the archives. Gabe and Nat opened up about a one second lead on me heading into the 16th mile and I felt a little rushed. This makes sense as we crossed the 16th mile in 6:29. As great as running companions as they were, I knew that was too fast for me and decided I needed to fall back and run my own race.

Miles 17-20:

Gabe and Nat continued to open a lead on me but I was fine with that. I knew I only needed to run my own race to set a personal best. I was pretty sure I still had the 2:55 in me as well. That is, until I ran a 6:42, 6:52, and 7:07. Crap. Just like that, the bank of time had been depleted. The hills, which never seemed to be of much help on the way out (and to be honest were not that bad) did seem to be far worse coming home. One guy passed me going down a hill and I tried to use him as a new pace setter but he had more energy than me. I had to let him go. I know when I cannot hang with someone on a downhill that I need to race smart. Something is not right (I had a side stitch since mile 14 but it never really caused any serious trouble. I think it was just a warning side of things to come, however).

Miles 21-25:

Another 7:07 and then a 7:28 and a 7:34 had me panicking. I had no idea what was happening. I was hemorrhaging time and could not stop the bleeding. At mile 23, in the middle of the mile, I just stopped and walked. This is a trick I have used before to gain a little peace of mind and rest the legs for a few seconds, often to great success. I could only hope that doing so here would bandage my time wound. As I stopped, I heard footsteps and another guy passed me. Wearing my exact brand of shoes. (Just to insult me, I think).

I rested again at mile 24 at an aid station and even, incredibly at mile 25. But two 8:00+ minute miles were the only result. I was so peeved. That was nearly 3 minutes worth of lost time in 2 miles. Not good at all.

Right before mile 25, I saw Gabe fly past me ahead going the opposite direction. I crested a hill and realized there was a left turn for the marathoners which took us along the outskirts of a parking lot. Natalie was now coming at me and I could see I had a long ways to go before I turned myself to head back. This was psychologically hard and I really just wanted to turn around where I was and head back!
But I pushed forward and hit the turn. As I did I found out I had two guys right on me heels. I tried turning on the wheels but there was nothing to fuel them. My watch told me that a PR was probably not going to happen. Neither was a sub-3. I swore. Out loud.

Finish:

As I said, I hit the last aid station, grabbed a drink of water and walked for a good 5-10 seconds. I knew it was paramount to any last push that I wanted to make but it hurt to lose that time. Around a bend I ran, up a small hill, and around another small corner put me on the final stretch. We were finally on the road that we had started on and I could see the finish line in the distance. Unfortunately, I could also see the mile 26 marker in the distance as well and it was too far away for my liking. At a 7 minute mile pace, that last .2 from mile 26 to the finish would take me 1:24. I saw I had about 1:20 or less and it had been 4 miles since I had run a 7 minute mile. This did not bode well for me.

I took everything I had in my person and put it into my legs. I could tell something was churning in my stomach but only hoped it would hold off for 90 seconds. The clock appeared ahead in the slight hazy morning. 2:59:29. Always deceptive, the clocks tick off time far faster than you think it could would it finally comes into sight.

2:59:39. How am I not done? Didn't I see the clock?

2:59:49. There goes the PR (a 2:59:48). Did I even move forward at all?

The clock blinks at me with absolutely no pity as the seconds pass by. I slide underneath the awning and stamp as hard as I can on the timing mat. 2:59:58.

I grab my medal and collapse on the ground, more tired than I ever have been before. Someone comes over to me to check on me and I say I am fine (obviously this was someone who runs and knew the difference between a person needing medical attention and a person who has absolutely no energy left to move). After a long minute or so, I roll onto my stomach, push myself up and meander like a drunken cowboy to the person removing timing chips. I look down. No chip.

"Where's my chip?!" I say in a hushed horrified whisper as I feel the contents of my stomach quickly rising upward. "We took it off when you were laying down," one volunteer says. Somehow, my small breakfast takes a turn south and stays put.

(Side note: Kathy was able to get some video footage of me crossing the finish line and it reminded me of some things I have seen a few times in race pictures. If you are unfamiliar with the chip system, what it does is wonderful. Allowing your own personal time to not start until you cross an electronic mat placed on the ground at the start, this alleviates a runner in the back from having a largely skewed time due to how long it takes that runner to cross the start line. Pure genius and barely 13 years old. Yet rarely are chip times official times. Winners are often declared by the official clock time. In the video Kathy took, I passed under the finish line at 2:59:58. Given it took me about 1-2 seconds to start the race, my time should be a 2:59:56 or :57. However, my official time was 2:59:59 and my chip time was 2:59:58. What bothers me is I have seen this in other race photos or videos. Normally it does not matter much. However, in a circumstance like this, one more second would have meant a 3 hour race for me. I wonder how often this might have kept someone else from getting the "time" they knew they had. Just curious.)

I missed two major goals for this race and I am, of course, disappointed in that. To lose so much time in the last 10k is just soul-crushing (even though that is really where the marathon begins). But it would be nothing compared to what two more seconds would have done to my psyche. Therefore, I am indeed proud of my effort. I have now conquered the sub-3 hour time limit again (and as I alluded to earlier, the first and only other time I did so, I ran a good 13 miles with an elite woman named Natalie. Go figure!) and I now no it was not a fluke.
But now, I definitely need to run the Ocean City Half Marathon for personal vindication and also to obtain an automatic NYC Marathon qualifying time. This Saturday, I go for a sub-1:23 on a short week of rest. Logic says after PRing in the half and then running my second fastest full ever in a one week span should not leave me with much of a chance to drop even more time off of my half personal best and hit a 1:23. This is why I will actually be pushing for a sub-1:20.

National Half Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 2; 3rd Edition
70.3 miles raced
Race: National Half Marathon
Place: Washington, D.C.
Miles from home: 6
Course Difficulty: 5 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 0 out of 10
Weather: 50s, slight rain
Finishers' Medal: 2 out of 10 (Huge Corporate Logo. What distance is the Wirefly?)

I will start at the end. What was supposed to be a 13.1 mile race ended up being anywhere from 13.4 to 13.7 miles long. That doesn't sound like much, but running at my pace that is 36 seconds for every .1 of a mile. And when you are trying to not only set a personal best but also garner an automatic qualifying time for the New York City Marathon, every second counts. For that, I have to give this race an enjoyability rating of dead last, flatlining at zero.

That said, I will describe for you what could have been a very good course, if things had been run right.

The Course:
A change was made to both the start of both the half-marathon and the full marathon this year as well as other course changes throughout. Instead of making a boring full loop around the monstrosity which is RFK Stadium before exiting out onto the streets of DC, this year we started in the shadow of the stadium and left it behind us. I think this was a much better start to the race. Few things leave more to be desired than starting 26.2 miles off by running in a circle for a mile to get back where you just were.

In addition, many changes were made to the full marathon itself to eliminate what were an atrocious amount of hills in the last 6 miles of the race last year. It seemed that the race organizers listened to the vast complaints about this section and took it to heart.
Of course, while this section was eliminated I now see there was a massive steep hill at mile 19. Of course, I would rather do one big hill than 6 hard ones much later in the race, so it was probably a welcome change.

But I ran the half on Saturday not the full so I will focus my attention there. For the most part, it was a decent race. The first 8 miles leave very little to be desired as you run on a mostly flat course with just a bump at mile 4 that taxes you a little. You run within viewing distance of the White House and the Washington Monument on a nice little straightaway. However, for as much of a running community as D.C. has, I was a little surprised at the lack of supporters out on the course. But with say 5,000 people running the races, maybe all of the running community had a bib number on!

Then it is up a steep grade from 8-9. You cross a downward sloping bridge (a rarity as most bridges are arched) and then into some rolling hills. Nothing too killer but nothing too runner-friendly either. You finish on a mostly flat straight away until the last half mile which ends going up a rather steep hill. Not unlike the Marine Corps Marathon there must be something about DC where they like to challenge what you are made of in the final minute of the race.
All in all, not a bad course if run properly. Please note the "if".

My race: 1st 4 miles
As I had stated to many of my friends, my goal for this race was to run a 1:23:00. This time would guarantee me an automatic spot to run NYC, if I deemed it something I wished to do. No begging or pleading, no waiting to see if I had won the lottery (and paying $9 for that wonderful honor; non-refundable by the way). To do so I would have to run a 6:19.8 mile pace. A friend suggested a specific running pattern of slightly slower than that for the first 4 miles, hold that pace for the next few and then go with everything I had to the end.
Well, it has been quite sometime since I have even run a half-marathon, (I ran one to kick off Fiddy2 last year by running the half-marathon part of the Goofy Challenge the day before the very first marathon of 2006 for me) let alone "raced" one (you have to go back to the summer of 2005 when I was training for Fiddy2) I was unsure of how to run the pace. I have only a few half-marathons to my credit and with a PR of 1:26:53, there was no question I would break that. Heck I have run just a minute slower in the first HALF of some Marathons! It was a question of how much I would PR by. My body knows what a 6:50 feels like. But does it know a 6:20 pace? Well, apparently not.

My first mile was a 6:01 (after the first half mile where a marker on the course said I ran a 2:35, I should have fretted right there that something was amiss but I let it slide), followed by a 6:14 and a 6:21. I figured that this slight deviation was fine and I would simply slow it down a touch to regulate.

Mile 4 was missing from the course but soon I went up the hill on Virginia Ave and back down it and mile 5 was in sight. I took the average of the two and I was right on schedule (even slightly ahead. Again, having a few seconds in the bank was fine with me).

Miles 5-10:

I felt good for the next two miles and was ecstatic to realize that I was halfway done. These half-marathons rock!! I knew from the race elevation profile there was an elongated hill right after 8 but I did not pay it much attention. I passed or stayed with all of those around me so I felt good. I knew I had less than 5 miles to go and felt great. But a look at my watch made me double clutch. I ran a 6:34 for that mile (or WAY off pace). I began to think that perhaps I wasn't ready just yet for that 1:23:00.

A 6:16 at mile 9 dispelled that notion and a 6:18 at mile 10 furthered it. Right there, when the full marathoners peeled off to the right, I knew I only had to run a 20-minute 5k and I would still be 15-20 seconds under 1:23:00. I knew that time was mine. I could easily run a 20-minute 5k and was beginning to feel stronger.

Miles 11-12:
Going up a hill that I did not recall being on the elevation chart, I held back my reins a little bit. I felt a little queasy in my stomach and knew there was no need to push just yet. Sure a 1:21 high would be great but all I needed today was a 1:23. Nothing more. Save the faster times until AFTER you have the 1:23 I told myself.

So up what I thought was the final hill until the end I went with the mile 11 marker on the downside of that hill. Unfortunately, a few more rollers lay waiting for me. I handled them and passed the only person I had passed in nearly three miles. I may despise uphills but thanks to my daily run that always has me finishing the last mile up a soul crushing 200 foot elevation gain, I handle them pretty well.

A female half runner came into sight. I had my eyes on her for quite some time earlier but now that she was in sight, I gave chase. We ran down the off-ramp onto the final straightaway and passed the blown down sign for mile 12. There was one solo fan there cheering. How she got there or why is beyond me. I had run a 6:19 and a 6:16 for my last two miles. I was simply cruising. My math had me 30 seconds under 1:23:00 at least, even if I did not pick it up. But I had energy to spare and was ready for that final kick.

Finish:
When the stadium loomed in front of me I knew I was close to home. Well under a mile left and I had 5.5 minutes to traverse the distance. I was writing the recap in my head about the successful attempt to qualify in my first half-marathon in years. I could not wait to call my folks and share the news with my many supporters. Down a ramp we went and I could not see the finishline. I looked and looked. Finally, I saw we made a hairpin left turn and then back up what was the final .2 of a mile.

Wait.

I only had less than a minute left to go under 1:23. I still hadn't seen the sign for 26 miles to tell me there was .2 of a mile (or approximately 1:25 second left of running.) What the hell was going on?

I finally hit the mile 26 marker with only 15 seconds to spare to make it under 1:23. What in the hell happened?! I am deflated. I am beside myself with confusion followed by rage. I hit the mile 13 mile marker, turn off the hill and sprint the last .1 of a mile. My time: 1:24:22. Almost a full 90 seconds off? I look at my watch. The last 1.1 miles should have taken no more than 6:55 (maybe less because I know the girl who was in front of me who I passed in the last half mile was cruising above the pace we had set earlier) but instead took 8:19. WTF Part Deux!

Livid, I take the medal, give them my chip and steam away. I check with a few other runners who were wearing GPSs and my suspicions were confirmed. I went home and did a google map of the course turn-by-turn and came up with a distance of 13.46. That extra .36 equals just about 2 full minutes of running. Others had the course as long as 13.8. This is absolutely inexcusable. The course is supposed to be certified, we pay top dollar to run this race, and expect it to be correct. How is it possible to be so far off? Who is responsible? If it is the certification company they sure as hell should not be allowed to certify again. If it is the race then they need to issue an apology. If I wanted to run an uncertified course at a fast pace I can do that only my own every day of the week. The worst part is, the majority of the discrepancy comes after the mile 10 turn-off for the full marathoners. Obvioiusly, they care far more about the full marathon than the half-marathon. Simply looking at where the 12 mile mark is on their own map shows how long the last 1.1 is.

In either case, as a result, I end up short of my goal and have to find another half-marathon before May 1st in order to try once again to obtain something I already owned.

Having set up and run my own marathon I know it is a difficult thing to do. I do not envy the logistical job done by race directors. Even when they mess up, for the most part, they are still good people. This report, however, is not a review of the type of people that organized this race. I do not know them personally enough to do so. I do know that I feel robbed. I forced myself to get a good night's sleep, ran a smart hard race and, while my efforts netted me the result I wanted, it will not be official because of course mismanagement. Even if they were to "give" me the time I would have run that would not make things right.

So, I run a marathon next weekend and hope to set a PR in that. Possibly I could try to get the automatic qualifying time for a marathon (2:55) although I feel it is a much more difficult task than the one I was trying to do. Since I did not think I am ready for that right after the race I looked ahead and saw there is a half in nearby Ocean City, MD. Having run their marathon last year I know it is a flat course. If the wind off the ocean is kept at bay I should be able to get what I actually earned on Saturday. We can only see.

Seneca Creek Greenway Trail 50k Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 2; 2nd Edition
57.2 miles raced
Race: Seneca Creek Greenway Trail 50k
Place: Damascus, MD
Miles from home: 25.45
Course Difficulty: 10 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 0 out of 10
Weather: 40s. Intermittent sun, some wind
Finishers' Medal: None
Donations To Date For Fiddy2: ~40k

I am glad the first half-mile was ice-free.

With a rare 6 inches of snow falling in just a few hours on the Sunday before the race, followed by warm temps throughout the week, coupled with a rainy downpour a few days prior to race time, I knew the conditions of this trail were not going to be ideal.

Unfortunately, "not ideal" would soon be replaced with "one of the most difficult races I have ever run" once the race started. I actually waited a day to write this recap because Grouchy McBitchersons would not have been the person I would have suggested to write it yesterday, and that is who would have. Enjoy!

The Course:

To be absolutely clear, my low rankings reflect yesterday's weather conditions and should not be representative of the course itself. I am pretty sure on a dry, cool day this course would be a 6 on difficulty and a solid 6 or more on enjoyability. But I have never run there before and the conditions were so atrocious that I can honestly say I enjoyed not 10 feet of it.

Beginning in Damascus, MD, this point to point course starts off on a paved road. Soon runners enter a trail and that is where the fun begins. For a more in-depth course description than I could possibly hope to give go HERE. I honestly spent so much time trying not to fall down I could not tell you all that much about where we turned or where we went. Kudos to the race directors for writing such an in-depth description

My race: First 7 miles

I met my friend Bryon Powell (a supremely talented ultra runner who last year did the Western States 100 miler then ONE WEEK LATER came and raced the Leadville Marathon and beat me by some 40 minutes or so) before the race. He planned on running this race decently slow for him and that was the pace I wanted to do as well. With a possible attempt at a new PR in a marathon next weekend, I was determined to just go and enjoy a 31-mile run through the woods. I knew Bryon was a heck of a pacer (helps he has a cool GPS thing) and would stay with him to accomplish my desired goal time. In tow, he had his sister (Gretchen) and another friend (Amy). Gretchen was attempting her first marathon and we kept telling her since the marathon is long (hence it not being certified) she might as well do the 50k. I am so glad it ends up she did not.

There were plenty of runners on-hand, milling around on this pretty, sunny morning. We received a plethora of instructions before the race started and everything was rather low-key.. I have run plenty of laid-back races before but when the instructions end like this: "So, be careful and have fun. *2 second pause*. All right, get going", I knew I was in for a different race.

As I stated above, the ice started very soon. A comedy of errors of Keystone Kops proportions commenced soon thereafter. I will be the first to say that I was not prepared for this race, equipment-wise. Without a doubt, better footwear would have made this race extremely, momentously, easier for me or anyone else where regular running shoes. The street-running shoes I was wearing were absolutely no match for the hard-as-concrete, slimy-as-a-snail ice that covered the trail. And only the trail. Given the running surface was in a divot, the melted ice and snow had settled in to form the most slippery surface I had ever run on.

Situated near a creek, the trail often left us wondering who would be the first to take a swim. A few miles in, it was almost me. My feet went out from underneath me and down on my ass I went. I began a quick slide down the side of the trail flying out of control. Grabbing a tree about 3 feet from taking a dip, I received some hearty cheers from the other runners who had witnessed my descent. Feeling charmed, I was able to get back on the trail (I have no idea how) and soldiered on.

Amy, I could quickly tell, was a heckuva runner. With me stride-for-stride and often leading the way, I knew I would be running with her for most of the race (if I were lucky). Bryon fell back but I knew it would not be long before he caught us.

At the first aid station at approximately seven miles, I was far from pleased to see it had already taken an hour and six minutes to traverse this distance. And this is where I was still fresh! Energy-wise, it felt like I had already run 10 miles and as the rest of the race would show, if you could jump off the trail to run around mud, ice, or shin-deep water, you would. This, of course, only lengthened the race. I am pretty sure I ran an extra mile just by doing this maneuver alone as I caromed off of trees like a pinball over and over again.

Mile 16:

With every slip on the ice and knee-cracking direct hit to its surface that I took, my desire to run lessened. A couple of times I was pretty sure I had broken something and honestly, I am unsure how I did not. My shoes were sorely unfit for this type of running but there was nothing I could do about it. If someone had offered me screws and a screwdriver I would have stopped right there and put them onto the bottom of my soles. But John Madden and his painfully obvious observations (worth $5 million a year from Monday Night Football alone; excuse me, I just vomited in my mouth) were not enough to bring ACE Hardware to my rescue.

Every step was an adventure and if I was not sliding uncontrollably on my ass (unfortunately, my second trip down the hill towards a creek left me with a dead tree in one hand and me knee deep in freezing cold water), I was doing my best to make sure my shoes did not get sucked in by the quicksand ice-mud.

Hitting my tailbone as my feet went out from underneath me Three-Stooges-style completely, must have made a horrific noise as runners actually stopped to make sure I was fine. Most runners would care enough anyway to help a fallen runner but I here competitors actually stopped and came back to assist. Rolling over to the side of the trail just to get out of the way of anyone who might be coming by, I waived them off. But already the falls were beginning to take their toll on my psyche. With over half the course to go, I knew I could not tempt the broken-bone-fates that much longer if more falls were what laid ahead for me. And the problem was I had no idea what was ahead of me, either running conditions-wise or trail-wise difficulty.

Slogging along after making sure I did not have a dislodged coccyx, I was able to catch up with Amy and Bryon (who had finally joined us) and a nice guy named Gene. Gen and I ran a marathon together last year and he was kind enough to ask how Fiddy2 went. ("The marathons are over but the fundraising ain't", should be my new slogan). We all proceeded to run along, working as a group, changing places when someone would hit the dirt or ice and do our best to provide camaraderie to each other..

After one more fall, I was seriously considering making the right turn at the 16-mile-point (which would turn the race into a marathon) rather than taking the left turn to complete the 50k. The cool thing about this race was runners could decide at this point to do either race. You paid the same for either and only the decision here determined which race you were running. Now, I knew the marathon was longer that 26.2 miles but it seemed so much more appealing.

However, I got to the aid station and made the second hardest possible decision: I turned left to do the 50k.

Why was it the second hardest? Because I could not live with myself if I had done the shorter course. At this point, the thought of doing the marathon I had planned for the next week was rapidly flying out the window. I was hoping to PR in that marathon but could tell I had done too much damage to myself already for that to be a realistic possibility and figured I might as well tough out the original plan. So, left I turned.

Mile 20:

The first 2 plus miles of the loop around the lake after the turn were pure bliss. Dry, non-icy trail made me feel I had made the right decision. I had filled my water bottle on my fuel belt (a necessity since the aid stations were not supposed to have cups. However, showing how nice the volunteers were, cups were nevertheless still available in small amounts) felt refreshed and was running strong.

Of course, the other side of the lake coming back ended up being iciest, worst conditions. We all fell a few times. I got angry. Same old story.

Finally, we hit a road for about 200 yards and back to the aid station where the decision to continue had been made.. It took me 3 hours to get to mile 20. In my marathon PR, I hit mile 20 at 2:15. So, I was currently 45 minutes behind. Given the circumstances, I wasn't really all that displeased with my 9 minute mile pace.

I paused to fill my water bottle again and in that time Bryon and Amy were gone. I spent the next 2 miles trying to catch up with them during which I took my first complete fall in the mud. Trying to pass someone, both of our feet hit the same patch and got tangled. Down we went. It ends up my fallen runner was actually the guy who was my seatmate on the bus to the starting line. Small world. I apologized profusely and was on my way. This section looked a lot less free of ice and I inwardly rejoiced. Too soon.

Catching Bryon and Amy was a short-lived victory. While the ice was gone, the mud was thickening and they soon pulled away while I was mired in the sludge. Every step had me slipping or sliding on the trail, as this part had already been run in by both the 50kers in front of me, as well as the marathoners too. My ankles and hip flexors were getting a greater workout than my quads! It was all I could do to keep Bryon and Amy in sight until finally, the twisting and turning trail made them disappear altogether. I would only see them once more when traffic kept them from crossing a road until I had made up some ground. As I chugged water directly from a jug, one of the volunteers eyes got wide when she looked at my bloody legs. This would not be the last time this happened.

Mile 25.75:
Stopping at an aid station to again fill my bottle (which I was going through like it was my job; a bathroom break earlier revealed I was dehydrated as heck as I was peeing nuclear yellow) the race photographer was directed to my legs by one of the volunteers. Even after running through streams and splashing water and mud up on me, let alone falling down, they were still covered in rivulets of blood from the wounds I had sustained so far. As the photographer snapped a few shots of my legs, I looked at my watch: 4:08.
Wait.

It took me 68 minutes to 5.75 miles?! 11 and 49 seconds per mile?! I knew I had walked some sections but dear god. I had to average just 10 minutes a mile for the last 5 miles (give or take) to get under 5 hours. I had very little hope I could do that but grabbed some more Ultima energy drink for its electrolytes and took off

Finish:
One more titanic fall for good measure a mile or so later as my foot hit a root and sent me sprawling. Normally, without fatigue and therefore better motor skills, I would have been fine and righted myself, but instead this time I was down hard, right on my chest, knocking the wind out of me. I apologize here to all the deer, turkey, geese I saw and anyone with a small child nearby as when I regained my wind, I let out a loud curse word…or eight.

Drinking Ultima from the aid stations left me a little queasy (I had no choice and even though I think the stuff tastes awful, I needed the fluid) and this last fall left me with little choice. When I stood up, I walked to the side of the trail and emptied my belly of its contents. This, of course, left me severely thirsty and all I could think about was getting to the final aid station.

During the next few miles, a string of four or five of us would changes places as one gained energy from some unknown store and the other used his up Soon, I was running with a nice guy named Claude who was doing "just" the marathon and we intermittently passed and got passed by the other.

Hitting the final aid station I asked if we had perhaps either a mile or a mile and half to go. With a look like "Should we really tell him?" the one chap answered: "Closer to 2.5". I silently filled my water bottle and began shuffling again. There was no way I was breaking five hours, so just getting up the highest and steepest hill of the whole course (no exaggeration) is where I turned my focus.

As I climbed this hill, I got to experience something I never did in a race before: seized-quads. My quadriceps muscles are, without a doubt, my engine. Not magazine picture quality or anything like that, they are nonetheless the one thing that powers me on when I am exhausted. I have never gotten a cramp in them during a race before until now. Yay! New things!

Down the other side of the hill, I caught up to Claude again only to have him pull away from me every time we hit an uphill and I was reduced to a walk. At almost the same time, this one guy came from behind me and goes flying by. It ends up that he will, in about 1.5 miles, beat me by two minutes and be the only one in my age group to beat me. Damn it.

Off the trail, the rest of the course is road. I turn on the reserve juices I have and feel clumps of mud hit my back as it is finally lodged loose from my shoes. Passing Claude with about half a mile to go I finish kick in feeling like I am running for the first time since the first half-mile. Greeted by a man with a speaker who tells me to go through the 50k chute, I pass the finish line in 5:20:29.

Some final stats:
I finished 14th overall out of 67 finishers. The only female who beat me was Amy (and she and Bryon finished seconds apart around the 5:06 mark). The last 5.25 miles took me an hour and 12 minutes. That is 13 minutes and 43 seconds per mile. Almost a walk for me.

The wining time was 4:25 or not even an hour faster than me. The second place finisher, and the holder of the course record of 4:06 (set last year), was 26 minutes slower this year in 4:32.

I would love to know how many people switched their plans from the 50k to the marathon and how many people dropped out. The 67th finishers were some hard-nosed people and my hat goes off to them all. As the last person finished in 8:25 minutes or 16 minutes and 17 seconds per mile this guy gets an unbelievably "waytogo" from me. That type of strength takes a set of stones I do not have in order to be out there that long and still finish, Especially since the cut-off was 8 hours (which the final 6 women JUST beat) So kudos to you, Carl Shaia.

Also, a congrats goes out to Gretchen in her first marathon ever. Finishing 8th overall is amazing and I want her to know they only get easier!

As a result of this race, I will have to withdraw from my race next weekend. I am in absolutely no shape to run a marathon and hope to do well, given the current state of my body.

Finally, while this recap might have a negative tone, I want to give TONS of positive feedback to the volunteers on the course. There were places where river crossings were so treacherous that without the assistance of a person standing on the edge to give you a hand up, I do not know if runners could have gotten out. At every aid station, the volunteers asking you if you needed first aid, presented candy and food and drinks galore. In particular, I remember a place where we were on the road for like 100 feet and then entered back onto the trail. A snow plow had pushed a massive wall of snow in our way. Some young teen, obviously still in the midst of clearing the path, stood there with sweat on his brow and a shovel in his hand. He had cleared a path through the mound to the trail where we would have otherwise had to climb a four-foot wall if icy snow. At the time you say "thanks" between breaths but now you give those people their due. Thank you.

In addition, while I was lucky enough to always have another runner in sight, the volunteers had spent time adding yellow and green ribbons to branches of trees to keep you on path in case you missed the trail (easy to do yesterday) or the blue "blazes" which marked the trail at eye level on the trees. A couple of times I got off path briefly and was only saved from turning the 50k into a 55k because of catching one of those ribbons out of the corner of my eye.

While there was no t-shirt (who cares), and no medals (I like medals) on a good weather day, I see this is a race that would be fun to run. At $20 for a registration fee, they could bump it to $35, give us a medal and it would still be a steal. Even a small medal would be nice. The scars and cuts on my legs are nice proof of the effort I put forth but other than the picture Bryon took at the end I would like a little more to commemorate my time. Just a little something that I will be able to look back upon and shake my head at what was one of the hardest races I have ever done. Hopefully this will be a consideration in the future.

But, in the meantime, I guess I will have to just use the hairless football-sized patch on my butt and upper leg which I used as my personal Slip n Slide into the creek as my reminder.

Washington's Birthday Marathon

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 2; 1st Edition
26.2 miles raced?? miles to go
Race: Washington's Birthday Marathon
Place: Greenbelt, MD
Miles from home: 19.1
Course Difficulty: 7 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 2 out of 10
Weather: 20s and got lower, extremely windy, bright sunshine.
Finishers' Medal: 5.5 out of 10
Donations To Date: ~39k

At least I can consolidate.

Coming into this race, the windiest race I had ever done was a toss-up between the Nova Scotia Marathon with the gusts of the tail end of Tropical Storm Beryl reaching 50 miles per hour and the Mercedes Marathon in Birmingham, AL with constant bone-chilling winds. The coldest race by sheer temperature was hands-down Washington's Birthday Marathon in 2006.

Well, they are all now beat by this year's rendition of the Washington's Birthday Marathon which had temperatures that began at 24 degrees and unfortunately steadily declined throughout the day in spite of (or perhaps because of) the clear skies overhead. Throw in the wind which got worse by the hour (even though the race started at 10:30 AM which gave us all hopes of the warmest temps possible) and this was one of the most difficult races I have run to date.

The Course:
Click Here for a Map
When looking over my recap of this race last year, I noticed it was rather bereft of detail about the course itself. Of course, it was rather bereft of detail period but that was my modus operandi for the beginning of Fiddy2. You see, for the first half of the year in 2006, I was unaware if anyone was even reading my recaps so they were hardly as detailed as they would become in the latter half of the year. Plus, I had not found the places to post them such as coolrunning.com, runningtimes.com and the like, where people actually did that sort of thing. So simply talking about myself to the ether made no sense at all as I could not tell if my posts were helping someone. When I established people might like to hear about a race from a runner's perspective, I beefed those recaps up a great deal. Knowledge not shared is wasted. Also, I think a year ago, my feeling was I would never run this course again and therefore decided to conveniently forget about it. Too bad forgetting about it did not stop me from doing it again.
When I rate a course I do not often count the weather into its difficulty. But after two consecutive years of the same weather (and word from veterans that it never changes at this time of the year) in this case I have to factor it into the equation. The wind one faced at certain points whipping across fields was brutal and relentless. Almost standing me straight up at times in my tracks (and at approximately 180 pounds it is a stiff wind that can move me) I feel bad for anyone smaller or not running in tandem with someone else.

The course starts off on a slight uphill as you wind through the neighborhood of Greenbelt before you traverse a long steady downhill. Having run the course before, you know this will be the bane of your existence later when you have to run back up it. You then turn left and make a 300-foot jog into a brisk wind, turn around and backtrack. Another quarter of a mile later you begin what is the first of three loops of approximately seven miles. While each loop contains some rolling hills in the first three miles, there is nothing here, which is extremely difficult. The wind I spoke of earlier either stays at your back or is blocked by the trees as you run along slightly winding country (but paved) roads. Not closed to traffic the race leaves you with little to worry about, as traffic is light to non-existent. In the summer, I have a feeling this would be a very nice training run. With country air, enough hills to keep it interesting and even just minutes from D.C.'s beltway you feel like you are miles away from any hustle and bustle.

After these first few miles you then make a sharp left turn and begin a downhill run for a half-mile or so. Unfortunately, this is where the wind blowing off of a large field cuts into you like a hot knife through butter. This wind continues, off and on through the next few miles as you hit a series of hills growing in both length and grade. I would say it is just happenstance that the wind was bad in these certain places but it happened in the exact same places, with the exact same ferocity on each loop (until it picked up in the end which I will get to it).

After a brief respite from the wind, and with about two miles to go in each loop, you traverse down a highway and up a long curving road where the wind picks up with a vengeance. Then down the back end of this hill and then almost immediately back up a much shorter but much steeper hill that leads to the relay exchange point and the beginning on the next loop.
On your third and final loop you pass through here and backtrack to that original steep downhill and realize it us much worse going back up after 25 miles than it was going down after one.

Through a winding hilly trail you race down a path in the back of peoples yards and cross a pink chalked finish line with a cone and a guy with a stopwatch. This is one of the most innocuous finish lines you will find. No problem there. Fanfare is rarely what a lot of us runners are after.

My race: 1st loop
What promised to be a sunny day with a high near 38 with no wind was nothing like that at all. MY good friend Katie and I (who were celebrating our one year and one week of knowing each other by running our fourth marathon together) were both rather underdressed for the weather which actually occurred but figured we would be fine once the race started. Both wearing shorts and long sleeves we were no match for the guy who passed me to get the start line wearing nothing but shorts and a singlet. As this race has a relay, and many people pay the miniscule fee ($25) to run a measured course as a long run for Boston or what have you, I figured he would be doing the first nine plus miles and calling it quits. And when the race started and he took off like he was shot out of a cannon I figured my assumption was right.

An interesting character I saw at this race last year (and at one or two other races as well) is a longhaired older gentleman who runs full marathons with two border collies. Unleashed they do a "pretty" good job of staying out of the way but they are still dogs. And when they would get too far ahead and shoot back they would slightly get underfoot. Now, I think it is cool as heck that these two bandana-wearing pups will do 26.2 miles but I also think there is a time and a place for it and at the beginning of the pack is not it. Knowing this, and also knowing that this older chap has this excruciatingly annoying way of either breathing/reeling in the pups or both where every exhale is a high pitched wheeze I was glad I was planning on running hard today to put distance between us as well as for the new ear warmer I had on which muffled a ton of noise. Nevertheless, it was 6 miles before the last of his "Wheeee. Wheeee. Wheeee" faded into the distance. Running has characters.

I only saw Katie once in the race and it was on that initial 300-yard turn around. I wished her good luck and set out to see whether 6 weeks "off" from running marathons had either left me rusty or rested or a combination of both. With the Near-Naked Singlet wonder fading into the distance quickly, there was only slight Ethiopian runner and one other chap wearing headphones in front of me to contend with until around mile 4. Here a girl I recognized as being a runner in the area passed me. I caught up to her, chatted to her a bit and found out she (Emily) was going to run 17 miles of this race today in order to test her body out for Boston. So we more or less ran the rest of the loop together and shared some stories. I occasionally broke some of the wind for her as it always makes me feel good to help another runner. I told her to get ready for the big hills before the end of the first loop and we soldiered on

2nd loop:
Immediately after the exchange area I pulled over to the side of the road and made quick bathroom break. In almost no time at all I had caught up to Emily but could not find the headphone guy anywhere. Having had him in sight when I went to the bathroom I could not believe he had pulled away this quickly. So I was in limbo as to what place I actually was in. Was it 2nd, 3rd, or 4th?

Passing through the halfway point at 1:30:04, I was a little disappointed that my earlier mile splits of ~ 6:44 had obviously slowed a little bit. I felt strong here but knew I had much longer to go. Turning down the windy stretch I glance to my side and saw a chap in a white shirt with a red hat (White Shirt/Red Hat Guy). Sort of bummed there was another runner in the mix for the top 3 spots I soldiered on. Two miles later he was even closer. By the time we crested the summit into the exchange area he was right on my heels. Emily had pulled over, her work done, and wished me good luck

3rd loop:
I could hear White Shirt/Red Hat Guy behind me but decided to make him work for it. It took him a mile to pass me. And even when he did, every time we hit an uphill I gained ground. Psychologically, this is huge for me given how much I despise uphills. Hitting 20 miles and the downhill wind stretch again, he opened up more breathing room. Still on pace to go sub 3:10 (I thought a 3:08 was possible) I just tried to look inward to stay focused. My running was strong and and running a decent last 10k would put me in the 3:08 range.

Let me break away from the running here to mention the weather. It was bitter cold. Even with the sun shining to help heat you, whenever the wind tore though you it felt like your core had just turned to ice. Breathing was rather difficult as well and whenever you hit any semblance of a hill it always seemed to coincide with the open field wind, which almost stopped you in your tracks.

While my time had slipped a little from miles 13 to 20, in the next 2 miles it slipped even more. Actually, it was more than a slip. It was a fall. But by now I had looked to tricks I use when I get tired and I decided to break the remainder of the race into two separate 2-mile runs, convincing myself this was easier. Here is where it gets interesting. Stay with me on this one.
As I start down the highway, I see a guy in a singlet ahead of me. Is this the guy who took off like a shot at the beginning of the race? Sure enough it is and he is struggling with a capital ain't-gonna-make-it. I cannot believe he is out here dressed like this. He is teetering on the point of collapse (not unlike that guy in the Gatorade commercial at the end of the Ironman Triathlon) and I am sincerely worried for his health. Obviously a youngster (not even 20 and that is a stretch) he obviously underestimated not only the course, but the distance and the weather as well. I pass a volunteer and said: "He needs help. Now." A woman hopped out of her car wearing race insignia, nodded and said: "We are pulling him."

So, now I have about three miles to go and worse case scenario has me in 4th. Headphone guy, Ethiopian and White Shirt/Red Hat Guy are in front of me. At least I think so. Cresting the longest windiest hill, I stop for a short walk break. I was just spent. A black gentleman (I do not use African-American because, well his ancestors might not be from Africa and I am not politically correct) stood at the top of this hill the entire race with a radio blasting. Cheering every runner that went by, he was not only there last year when I ran but apparently has been there a multitude of years. As I paused to give him one last weak smile and wave of thanks, Ethiopian guy zips by me. What the …?

I know for a fact that I never passed him. How did he get behind me? It is virtually impossible to veer off this course. While I had a small complaint with the number of aid stations on this course (it could have used one more on each loop) I have no complaint about the volunteers who directed traffic, stopped vehicles from entering traffic ramps when we were crossing and pointed everyone in the right direction. Kudos to these volunteers who had to stand out in the bitter cold as we ran by. But there is no way he could have gotten lost (his claim after the race) and still had the energy he did. I am not saying he cheated but something is amiss here that is for sure.

Now, I am completely confused as to my place. It should not have mattered and I should have pressed forward regardless, but I honestly was completely wiped of energy. The smallest things can bring you down in a marathon. Down the steep other side of the hill and then up the other hill to the final relay exchange passing, I look behind me and two more people have appeared, rapidly approaching. I feel sapped but am doing my best to hold them off. Down the hill out of the relay exchange we go back onto the final stretch. Right before the mile 25 marker, the two guys pass me. I know have no idea if they are relay guys, what place I am in or if I have the energy to tackle this final horrible hill.

And just as the smallest thing can bring you down, it is amazing how just the slightest falter or misstep by a runner in front of you can give you an edge. While the Ethiopian guy seemed out of reach, the four of us were battling for the remaining spots. Just then White Shirt/Red Hat Guy started walking up the hill. Both of the other two do a little walking as well. From my experience I know that small walk breaks invigorate me so I decide to grab 10 steps of a break and then take off. Before I do, one of the guys in front of me begins to do a little stutter step and falters sideways. Here is my break. Filled with energy, I start running.

Finish
More people changed position in this last half mile than in any race I have ever been involved with. Blue Shirt Guy and the Falterer both pass White Shirt/Red Hat Guy. Falterer immediately begins walking and White Shirt/Red Hat Guy passes him. Blue Shirt Guy then gets within striking distance of Ethiopian Guy (who must have been crawling as I have no idea how we caught him). EG sees BSG and takes off. I use this as my opportunity to surge pass the Falterer and stop just short of White Shirt/Red Hat Guy. Using a speed bump almost like a starting block I push down and begin to sprint. I pass White Shirt/Red Hat Guy and am on the heels of BSG. EG is now half a block ahead as he has crested the hill and stated on is descent. Feeling I am now in third, I just want to make sure White Shirt/Red Hat Guy doesn't catch the same wind as I did and I high-tail it after BSG. BSG and I sprint down the hill after EG. EG turns under a bridge and gets ready for that final push. I look back and see that White Shirt/Red Hat Guy is nowhere to be found. Nor is Falterer. I smile a little bit.

With .2 of a mile left BSG puts on a futile push to try and get EG but falls short. I ease in comfortably behind BSG and smile a bit more. My time (3:14:33) was nowhere near what I was hoping for but I had 3rd place! The guy takes my tag off and says: "Fourth!"

My jaw drops. Who else was in front of us? Headphone guy? Who? No one has any idea as the guy finished nearly 15 minutes before the rest of us and has long since passed. I am at a loss. Few things can be worse than finishing 4th and out of the placing when you thought you were. EG, BSG and I finished within a minute of each other. Just like that, I went from elation to disappointment.

Now all I can think about is how exhausted and cold I am and how poor little Katie has got to be frozen. As I send my good friend Anne to grab me two jackets from my car, I say hello to my friend Jenny who has been waiting at the finish line for me. All of a sudden, the enormity of the effort I just put out hits me. I need to either sit down or I will be falling down. Jenny ushers me to her car. Before I know it, time has passed and Katie has finished in a stellar 3:30, taking 2nd place overall of the women. On this course on this day, that time is just wonderful. I go out to congratulate her, say goodbye to Jenny and almost collapse. Tiny Katie begins to walk me back to the warmth of the nearby building where we convened before the race for some food and drink. At one point I had to lay down on my hands and knees on the path and stop the dizzies. I have never felt like this before. Not this exhausted or tired. I am almost embarrassed. It is my 65th marathon! I should not be laid low by cold weather!

We finally make it back to the gym, hook up with Anne, grab Katie's award and try to warm up. It still takes me quite some time before I am able to stop shaking and hold a cup. I downed some chili, some peanut butter bread and about half a dozen cookies before swallowing two piping-hot mugs of hot chocolate. Anne and Katie took care of me while I scanned the area where I sat. Near Naked Singlet guy is swaddled in a blanket nearby. I asked him what the hell was he thinking. His response: "A 2:40 marathon." Running has it characters.

Continuing with my disappointment of "almosts" I got the news when I got home that I had not won the contest to run the North Pole Marathon but was rather the runner-up. Quite bittersweet to have two near victories barely tasted before they were pulled away all in a matter of hours. But disappointment, if you can handle it properly, is an excellent motivator. I am not saying I would not like things to come easier but when they do not, I feel I can indeed use it to press on. In fact, I might just run a 24-hour race in Virginia the weekend where I was hoping to be in Santa's backyard. I began planning that about 7 minutes after I found out I had not won the contest. Digest your defeats and move on.

I have 2 weeks until I test my legs in a 50k. I am going to try my best to just use it as a training run for my 100 mile race in June. But I make no promises of holding back.

Final synopsis: I was rested but not enough. I was rusty but not enough that it hurt me. The Washington Birthday Marathon on this day was not the race to test to see where I was fitness wise.

Old Dominion 100 Mile Recap - My Race

Old Dominion 100 Mile Cross Country Run

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 2; 9th Edition
257.7 miles raced in 2007
Race: Old Dominion 100 Mile Cross Country Run
Place: Woodstock, VA
Miles from home: 90
Course Difficulty: 10 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 3 out of 10
Weather: Humid, stormy, 60-90s;
Finishers' Medal: N/A


It is difficult to write down the feelings for a race which one did not finish. I know the ending and it is not a happy one. But it was an ending I chose and I think I chose correctly.

To begin, before anything else is said, I must thank my crew of Christine and Katie. Lord knows how much further short of my goal I would have fallen if not for their efforts to get me on my feet and have everything else I needed. As I mentioned earlier (yes MUCH earlier, like page one of this recap), I feel the ultra community thrives on a lone wolf mentality and being able to do everything without help. This was no more evident than at the pit crew stations. As I copped a squat for a quick breather and one of my crew would give me a banana or fill my water bottle, other crew people for other runners, or loved ones who, I guess, showed up only to say “way to go” as their husband ran by as I never saw them do much of anything, seemed utterly shocked at how much I was being “pampered”. I do not think they were repulsed but surprised. Honestly, I do not see the point of having a crew if they are not going to do the things that the runner does not necessarily have to do. Luckily for me, I was quite adept at picking my crew and they saw it exactly the same way. So, whether it was retying my shoes for me or having the exact food ready for me as I wanted it when I came tumbling in, I knew no matter how tired I was, my crew would do everything they could short of throwing me on their shoulders and running the course for me. Thank you, ladies.

The race started early. 4AM. I now have a race which beats the Cayman Islands Marathon for earliest start ever (it previously held the record at 5 AM). Yet, in spite the relatively little lack of sleep I was raring to go. I had many grandiose thoughts coming into this race with oodles of goals, sub goals and must-haves, and after weeks of waiting it was finally time to run.

I knew I was under-trained for this race. That’s a fact. But I would not have started if I thought I was going to be doing something detrimental to my health. Looking over the field the night before, I only saw a few people that I thought would be problematic to me taking a top slot. One was Keith Knipling who I knew was going to be an issue. Keith is an absolutely amazing ultrarunner we was running his 3rd 100 mile race in 3 weeks. Please read that again. Just astounding. I could only hope he was extremely tired and I was extremely ready and I could be extremely close to him at the end to out-kick him.

But that is getting a little bit ahead of myself. Like 100 miles ahead. As we all milled around before the start, most of our minds were to the weather forecast. With a high predicted of 90 degrees, I knew we were all hoping something would blow in to take that away. Like the scattered thunderstorms predicted for early afternoon. Or snow.

After an impromptu prayer from the starter, the gun went off (I think it was a gun) and away we went. Almost immediately, three runners took off and began to separate themselves from the group. I fell back and saw that I was running with one guy pretty much stride for stride, so I struck up a conversation. Bob Oberkehr was his name and he was a 4-time finisher of this race. I decided to pick his brain for info I could not find elsewhere hoping to glean a tidbit here or there.

The miles ticked by and we passed the first aid station, which consisted of a water cooler. A week prior to the race, I had decided to purchase a Camelback water carrying system to wear on my back rather than rely on the one waist bottle I had worn previously. So instead of the 20oz of fluid the bottle carried, the Camelback had 50. As such, I did not see the need to stop here but continued on. Bob, only carrying a handheld water bottle grabbed a quick drink. While I continued, I did so slowly because I wanted Bob to catch up so I could have a pacer and guide. Sure enough, Bob did and we resumed our running.

Before long we began our gradual ascent of the first big hill of the race, Woodstock Gap. Climbing 1100 feet in under 4.2 miles, Bob mentioned that this portion of the race was where most would walk. Given that I was trying to stick to a solid, run the downhills and straight-aways and walk the uphills plan, I too thought about that. However, Bob continued to run. I found that my fast power walk kept up with him for the most part so we soldiered on together. Almost at the top, we passed an older gentleman named Jamshid who Bob seemed to know. Given his slow gait I was curious how he had gotten so far ahead of us so quickly but Bob said he was a great ultrarunner. We exchanged pleasantries and then passed him putting Bob and me in a tie for 4th place overall.

1st Pit Crew Station (Mile 19.64): Total time: 3:36

Together Bob and I stayed for the next 13 miles until the first time I got to see Christine and Katie at the aid station at mile 20. I felt pretty good here, ate a banana and promised to eat a Gu soon. I really didn’t feel that hungry or thirsty, so after 4 minutes I was out of the aid station and on my way. I guess people often spend about that much time or less at these stations but I did not mind the pause. I was already far ahead of my goal pace for the day so slowing down felt good.

As I kicked out of my chair and got on my way, I made a note to the girls that my trail shoes had started to give me a small blister. I was hoping it would not get worse. I noticed Bob had taken off before me but in a matter of seconds I caught him. He told me the next 13 miles were nothing but road and a strong road runner could make up some time right here. Soon thereafter, almost inadvertently, I began to peel away from Bob. Sad to say this is the last time I would see him as around mile 22 I left him for good and took over sole possession of 3rd place.

Much to my shock, about 2 miles later another runner came into focus. Already running and then walking on the straight-aways was a gentleman I met the day before, Andy Kumeda. We spoke for a bit before he said to go on ahead because he was already ahead of his pace. I obliged and by mile 25 or so was sitting in second place. At one aid station soon thereafter, a nice little family said hello and told me the leader was only about 26 minutes ahead of me. Somehow that sounded ok at the time.

As the sun came out and the temperature started to climb, the beautifully cool morning slipped away. I found myself no longer running tangents like I would in a marathon but rather running in the shade where I could. I did not wish to melt.

2nd Pit Crew Station (Mile 32.55): Total Time: 5:29

I rolled into here and told my crew I needed to change shoes. The trail shoes had started a blister I did not wish to deal with any longer. Staying a little longer than I hoped to, I was at this stop for a little over 12 minutes. But the change of shoes was necessary and as I pulled out to head up the first truly steep climb of the day, Andy came by saying: “What are you still doing here?” I couldn’t believe I had made up 12 minutes or more on him in 7 miles. This should have been a warning sign I was going too fast and should slow down. Fortunately, no one needed to tell me slow down as the first hill out of the aid station forced me to take a slower approach.

My first extended walk of the day had me feeling a little tired and hot. Only 1/3 of the way done I was hoping that this feeling wouldn’t continue. Hitting a trail section that had worse footing and was steeper than the road did not help much either but I trooped on knowing a downhill followed. Sure enough I hit the downhill, only to remember that soon I would be hitting the trail once again. Maybe if I knew the difficulty of the next section I would not have been so beaten down by it but one thing is for certain and that is this section got to me. Inwardly I was picturing others scaling this section as if I were frozen in time. However, as the horseflies buzzed around me incessantly and would simply not be discouraged no matter how much arm waving I did, unbeknownst to me, this was one of the hardest portions of the race and no one was making up any time.

With the sun blazing in the sky and a tough climb going on under my feet, this information would have helped me as I began to hit a mental low point. However, I knew if I could push on to the next pit crew station I would have been in 2nd place for 25 miles and that would make me feel good.

Hitting the first weigh-in station I found I had lost 6 lbs. However, I had weighed in the night before, only an hour after I had eaten, and here I was dying of thirst, so I did not feel too worried. I knew my pit crew had food and liquid for me in a few short miles. So, half to get rolling, half to get the one little kid at the aid station to quit talking to me, I scampered along. Sweet kid, though.

3rd Pit Crew Station (Mile 47.70): Total Time: 8:59

Unfortunately, I needed to have another shoe change here. Something was wrong with my blisters and I needed to reapply some moleskin the girls had put on my feet my first time through this aid station and change my socks, all of which added to my total sit down time of 16 minutes. I did not tell anyone that about 2 miles back I had done a little bit of vomiting. Having been so thirsty at the Super Happy Funtime Talking Aid Station, I had swallowed a few too many glasses of water and began my run down the long steep hill. Well the water didn’t sit right with me and some of it came back up. No biggie but I knew others would be worried so I kept it to myself. I took a quick glance at the thermometer that someone had sitting by the road (which, ironically, Christine, would not double as a compass) and saw it was 88 degrees. It was only 12:30 PM. Uh oh.

My legs were a little tight coming out of the aid station but everything else was pretty decent. I was peeing rather frequently and it was relatively clear which showed I was not dehydrated. I knew I had a big hill to climb coming up so I simply acquiesced that I would be walking once again. And walk I did. At the mile 50 mark, I thought it was really nice of the race directors to paint a big old “50” on the road and I passed it at exactly 9:33:03. I had 14.5 hours to do the next 50 miles and still get a Belt Buckle. No problem.

Before too long the skies darkened, the clouds rolled in and rain began to pour out of the sky. I suddenly felt invigorated. Unfortunately, I still had a great deal of hill climbing to go and could not run but felt my core had been cooled exponentially. I just hoped the rain would keep on because as soon as it stopped I knew the humidity was going to skyrocket. A few miles later, the rain stopped. The humidity skyrocketed. Damn, I really hate being right all the time. The only saving grace was I began to actually be able to run downhill again.

4th Pit Crew Station (Mile 56.57): Total time 10:55

As the miles ebbed away I came upon the next Pit Crew Station. The girls cheered for me like crazy which completely baffled two backpackers who had just popped out of the roads. As I passed them I heard: “Must be a race or something.” “Oh, they are cheering for him!” This gave me a little giggle.

Spending far less time here than at previous aid stations (just under 8 minutes) I was able to joke that my definition of “uphill” in my “walk all the uphills” plan was growing grayer as the day went on. Hearing that competitors were closer to me than I had hoped, I lingered no longer and began to tackle the ATV trail section of the course. When the girls told me to get my butt moving I did the only thing a reasonable adult should do at this point in the race. I mooned them. I hear the backpackers laughed.

Wishing to keep the lead on those closing in (one was last year’s woman winner, the other was the only other guy I had been worried about previously) I took the uphills slow through this section but knowing there was a big downhill coming up, used my strength in this portion of running to take off. After dodging the Flying Wallenda Brothers on their damn ATVs, I was able to pick up more and more time and before I knew it I was cruising into the next stop.

5th Pit Crew Station (Mile 64.25): Total Time 12:35

Eating a grilled cheese sandwich my girls prepared for me, I was delighted to learn I had opened up 10 more minutes on my competitors behind me. Unfortunately, I think I was beginning to pay the price for pushing so hard. Spending less than 8 minutes here, I was on my feet and out of the area as quickly as possible. I later learned that when my competitors rolled into this area, they had no idea I was in front of them. They only knew of Keith Knipling and knew they had no shot of catching him. Apparently, when some people told them I was only 10-15 minutes in front of them, they grabbed food by the fistful and sped out of the aid station spending no more than 2 minutes there. My girls were none too happy at all.

I, oblivious to this, was soldiering up another long hill. A few miles later the rain began to pour again. I was hoping it would energize me like previously but this time it just gave me soggy shoes. And with a long section coming up where any rain whatsoever turns the area into a river I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Apparently, those runners who were half an hour behind me never even experienced this torrent on the trail as when the rain stopped, so went the rivulets. Lucky bastards. I, on the other hand, was forced to walk in ankle deep water and I could feel the sloshing in my shoes contributing to my already tiring and blistered feet.

6th Pit Crew Station (Mile 74.95): Total Time 15:17

After lots of sloshing and trail running and sore and tired legs, the miles were finally getting to me. I was beginning to lose time to all of those around me but was happy to pull in to Elizabeth Furnace having been in 2nd place for 50 miles. I weighed in for the second time and was not surprised to see I had only lost one more pound. I had not been running hard enough in the past few miles to spend too many calories and was taking in liquid like a sponge. I just wanted to get off the scale and get moving. Unfortunately, as I had my socks and shoes removed in favor of drier shoes and clean socks, as well as surgery being done to the blisters on my feet, my competition rolled into the aid station behind me.

Without a doubt, while I continued on from here, this is the point where I lost the race. Knowing I was already tired and seeing how strong these other two runners looked, as well as knowing they knew what lie ahead having run the race before, left me without much heart. The woman took off before I did and soon thereafter, I in my bandaged feet, followed. This part of the course is the only place where a runner can have a “safety runner” otherwise known as a pacer. Katie volunteered and I accepted.

I will not dwell too much on the negative here but after the other man who came in behind me at the aid station passed me a minute or so later, I was feeling pretty low. I could not get my legs going and had more or less come to the realization that I was going to be walking a good part of this section of the course. Suffice it to say, the Sherman’s Gap portion of the course was absolutely brutal. Almost straight up and then straight down for a total of 6 miles left me spent like I have never been spent before. Yet in spite of this, and the lack of a sufficient aid station at the end of this stretch, I still had high hopes. But as the night wore on, another runner passed me and my mindset was wrecked even more. The road we ventured onto off of the trail seemed impossibly steep and I could barely get moving.

Katie and I pulled into the next aid station and found out there was more trail ahead. This is where my spirit was finally broken. I simply could not handle more trails. I was finally cajoled into continuing by one of the volunteers (who was trying to be helpful, and was a really nice guy but given my state was really getting on my nerves!). I told Katie I was going to rest for five minutes and then decide what I wanted to do. Unfortunately, this chap kept talking to me. So much for rest! So, on my feet again, Katie and I started to climb. And climb. And climb. Sweet fancy Moses did we climb. It got to the point that the climbing was so ridiculous that we started to laugh at its sheer absurdity. Before much longer I knew I was done. Even though I realized I probably could have finished under the 28 hours and was pretty sure I might have still been able to buckle (under 24 hours), the fact remained that I was absolutely shattered in my mind. The darkness that Katie and I had been trudging through was almost suffocating given my exhaustion. I was shuffling like Frankenstein’s monster. And I had other goals on the horizon.

With a marathon in China in less than two weeks, I had to decide what was more important. Should I press on, hope to get a buckle and be bitterly disappointed if I wasted all that energy and all I did was finish? Or should I wrap it up, call it a day, learn from my experience and save myself as much as possible for China. Well, the latter won. As hard as it was to take as huge shot to my pride and pull out, the decision was made to stop at the next pit crew station.

I wish I could adequately describe how long it felt like it took to reach that final aid station. Forever is not a word I can properly use because it felt double that long. I made the decision to quit but I still had to walk miles before I could do so. How is that for sucking to high heaven? It is like in the olden days when the dad would make the kid go cut the switch with which he was to be swatted!

Finally, 4 hours and 49 minutes after I left Elizabeth Furnace, I arrived at Veach West (7th Pit Crew Station (Mile 86.67): Total Time 20:04) where Christine was waiting for me with a towel. (One more runner, a nice guy named Stephen from Missouri, who I had met the day before, had passed me a little while back, and when he asked how I was doing I told him I was done. He apparently told Christine who was sympathetically waiting with the security blanket of sorts). I sat for a while trying to figure out if I made the right decision but when I finally tried to move to get up to go to the car and nothing worked, I knew I had. I have never before been so utterly bereft of any energy. It was very similar to when you continue to suck on a straw hoping to find that one last droplet of Coke in the cup, hidden among the cubes of ice, and finally realize there is no Coke left, I too realized I was empty. I gave it all I had on this particular day.

I apparently was not the only one who gave it their all and fell short. Of the 25 starters, 10 others were unable to finish and, if I heard correctly, only 6 people finished under 24 hours. Keith ended up winning the race to complete a quite impressive 3 week stint. Kudos to him.

Let’s be clear, though. I failed. I have no problem with that word or that result. I think it was James russell Loweel who said: "Not failure, but low aim is a crime." My goal was not to run as many miles as I possibly could and then be happy with that total. My goal was to run 100 miles in under 24 hours and I did not accomplish it. I am not happy with the result. But I am happy with my decision. My first marathon ever was an abject failure in my terms. Yet I got back on that horse twice more in spite of both of those results being far below what I had hoped as well. Will I run another 100 mile race? I cannot say for sure. I do now know however that I have what I takes to pull out of a race when it is right for me to do so. I cannot say I will ever willingly DNF a race again. Heck, if I did not have this race in China in two weeks, chances are I would have kept on going, even though the thought of continuing on in the dark still gives me shivers right now.

So, I failed. I embrace that. Not because I enjoy the loss but rather because I think we live in a world where we coddle too much. It, unequivocally, sucks to not have finished that race this past weekend. But I, in no way, want sympathy for that nor do I wish to have congratulations for how far I went. If anything, I want kudos for having the brains to know what my body could do on a certain day and not trying to go further than I could in some attempt to prove anything to anyone. I will take the failure to heart, will learn from it, accept it, move on and succeed. Hopefully. Because nothing is guaranteed. Just because you have done something once, does not mean you will do it again. And just because you have done one thing well does not mean you will do it better the next time. Or ever.

Life is a crapshoot. Much of it is really not fun. But what makes life worth living are the good parts which, while often outnumbered, far exceed in quality that mass of crap we experience throughout our small time on this planet.

So, I have another race in less than two weeks. Then one a few weeks after that, and even more this summer. I obviously hope to do well at them all. I might not. But I can guarantee you there is one thing you will never have to worry that I did, fail or succeed, and that is to get it my best. With every thing I have.

And that, never, is failure.

For a complete course description, page down!

Old Dominion 100 Recap Part 1: Course Description

When I began writing this I had no idea it would turn into a novel. So to save your eyes, I have broken it into two (still lengthy) parts.

The first part (below) will be just a description of the course. The lack of what I feel is an adequate description of this course needed what I am writing.

The second part is my own personal race and will be posted separately. I hope you enjoy.

Old Dominion 100 Mile Cross Country Run


This is a bittersweet recap to write indeed. Never before have I not finished a race. But in the interest of self-preservation, as well as an eye to the near future, when sheer exhaustion took over at mile 86 (and foot problems as well) I am glad to say I did something very non Dane-like and decided NOT to push through until the end. Unlike earlier in the year when I pushed through the pain and exhaustion in my 50k, here was neither the time nor the place to continue. (How utterly ironic that in my last blog I mentioned I might DNF at mile 86).

What makes this most pleasurable for me is how I get to share the info I learned, not only about 100 mile races but also specifically this 100 mile race. You see, in the months leading up to this race I scoured the internet looking for detailed course descriptions or race reports from those who had run it. Instead of something that may actually help you, I found “From about mile 5 to mile 7 or so you climb Woodstock Mountain. The first aid station is at the top.” Believe me, there is much more information that could be shared about that particular section of the course, as well as many other sections. As such, I am hoping that this recap will be the tip of the iceberg of information shared about the Old Dominion 100 Mile Cross Country Run.

In addition, I have some suggestion for the race directors. I was pleased with how they handled most aspects of the day but where they were lacking was unfortunately, in the most glaring of spots. Therefore, I will not only offer constructive criticism, but praise them where they deserve it.