3:52:49...With a Little Help From My Friends...

Nearing the half-way point at the Rehoboth Beach Seashore Marathon on Saturday, November 22.

I've said many times that I'd rather run in really cold weather than in extreme heat. In Rehoboth Beach, Delaware this past Saturday, I got my wish. 27 degrees at the start and gusts to 20 mph made what to wear an instant question for all of our Rise Up Runners in town for the Rehoboth Beach Seashore Marathon.

This is a fairly myopic report. If you want to get a good sense and photos for how the race and weekend went for everyone, hope over to the RUR blog and have a look-see. As we've established in the goals post below, my quest on Saturday, aside from having fun, was a sub 4-hour marathon.

My pace was a steady, survival stride, clipping just under 9:00 minutes per mile. Because I'm an idiot--a stubborn one at that--there was never a question that I'd wear anything other than shorts :) I also made the call to wear a Nathan vest without the bladder, so that I could carry gels, Clif Shot Blocks, and S-Caps in an accessible place.

Dominic, James, Joel, Lori, and I all started in a pack, though Dominic distanced himself pretty quickly en route to a 3:29 and change marathon debut. Lori and James were in and out for the first 10 miles, where Joel Shilliday and I ran together and discussed everything from sweet Beach bungalows to the five greatest films of all time, to the fact that the "BRIDGE FREEZES FIRST" and that marshalls along the course were weary of black ice.

I made a point to eat a gel or shot blocks every half hour and take an S-Cap every 40 minutes or so. I had NUUN in my hand-held water bottle, and picked up and drank a cup of half-frozen water at every aid station.

I had two things going for me for pacing and conversation: 1) Joel had announced his goal was to run a sub 2:00 half-marathon. I knew that would fit in perfectly with my goal, so running with Joel worked well until he decided to stretch it out over the last three miles. I knew I had 16 miles to go, so I let him go up ahead a bit. 2) My other secret weapon was Lori Callahan, who is a Honda Accord (or Civic in Lori's case) of consistently quick (3:40 - 3:50) marathons. Chances were, running with Lori would bring me in under goal.

Double-fisting at the half-marathon point on the course, while RUR James Woodring slaps a high-five to Lori Callahan.

Lori caught up at the half-marathon mark, as a slew of other RURs - James Woodring, Mike Keene, and just-finishing Joel were all around to cheer us on and get Keene running his second leg after Joel.

The next 4-5 miles were wwwiiinnnddy, around Cape Henlopen, and back up a straight away taking us back to Rehoboth proper. Lori and I kept a steady pace into a wicked headwind, and I was plenty glad to turn a corner and crank relatively wind free for miles 18 or so on. If memory serves, miles 19 - 22, coming back on to the stellar dirt and gravel Breakwater Trail were among the fastest of the race.

Along about mile 23, I started to hit a rough patch. Not a wall, mind you, but everything became a bit more labored. I told Lori to do her thing and focused in on my own stride, a low arm-swing, keeping running, and picturing a flow, fluid run without leg cramps setting in.

This focus on form and stride was only interrupted as I hit mile markers and checked my watch. I hit mile marker 24 at 3:32, and figured I had a pretty good shot and staying under goal.

I made a point to never walk during the race, keeping forward momentum and mojo, which carried me past mile 25, and turned us back on to the boardwalk for the finish.

As runners approached the inflatable arch that marked the finish line, my stride picked up and I caught Mike Keene and Dominic waiting and cheering at the finish. A space-blanket wrapped Keene held out a paw for a high five and I slapped it and unleashed a howl, to the amusement of spectators at the line. I stopped my watch coming under the chute at 3:52:49. Official finishing times here.

Keene throws a paw up for a high five as Dominic (blue hat) takes it all in as the last of the RURs crossed the line.

The Rehoboth Marathon was the first complete race I have run at the marathon distance, without issue or falling apart. I finally dialed in on food, nutrition, hydration, and electrolytes. If I'm smart, it will give me something to build on as I try to creep the time down a bit lower.

I've got some trail 50Ks on the radar screen for next year. I'm flirting with a second 50-miler at some point (not necessarily next year). But I'm encouraged to keep a road marathon on the calendar, especially since most of our running around here takes place on roads. And to be honest, with the course, amenities, easy travel, and RUR participants, the second Seashore Marathon wouldn't be a bad one to keep on the list!

(How the Hell Did I Wind Up as the) Anchor Man

After a tag from Michael "Wood Frog" Keene, Valliant begins the final 19.8 miles of the Vermont 50-mile relay from Dugdale's aid station.

I was supposed to run the middle section. Until some re-routing switched leg distances, and the final leg went from 16 miles to nearly 20. I had logged the most miles, I tend to run like a madman on the downhills, which were most plentiful on the last leg, and so I ended up running the anchor leg of this beast.

If you want to boost your runner's ego (at least at first), run the final leg of a relay, where most of the runners are running the full 50 miles themselves and already have 30 miles of brutal hills on their legs. It's a bit unfair. And as your passing runners on the trail, and they are out of breath, shaking their heads at your fresh legs and spring in your step, and congratulating you on doing such a great job, you can only reply, "Nah, I'm just running the relay...you've gone A LOT farther than I have."

One of the great things about trail running though, is everyone is out there for themselves, and to be out there, and they still cheer you on with a smile and words of encouragement.

My leg of the Vermont 50 was the most challenging, most scenic, and most fun terrain I have run on. From rolling hard-packed dirt roads, to tree-lined climbs, to roller-coaster downhills, and switchbacks, I was a kid running in the woods and playing in the mud. I never got bugs in my teeth, but did smile pretty much the whole way.

I ran most of the way by myself, encountering many frustrated mountain bikers, pushing their bikes up hills and moving to let unencumbered runners climb past. And the aforementioned full 50-milers, working their way forward toward the finish. In ultras and long trail runs, aid stations are always an oasis/smorgasbord, with good eats and encouragement. Along the VT 50 trail, there is also a porch/deck party going on, with rabid mountain folk cheering runners and bikers, offering water (and beer to some) and judging form. I rated a "9.4" giving a good pace up the switchback, and loud cheers and laughter for an MC Hamma-like spin on the trail right in front of the deck (even funnier since the spin almost aimed me off the trail and into the foliage!)

As we were waiting for Katherine Binder to get to Skunk Hollow to set Keene in motion, I took a picture of a guy whose whole demeanor and impressive beard caught my attention.

The easy-ambling, long striding bearded mountain runner. As it turned out, 25 or so miles later, we ran in sight of each other for a good stretch of the last several miles of the course.

Running on through the woods, through streams, and up hills, I took in the scene, trying to be an actual part of the surroundings--to breathe it all in, even while beginning to tire. I kept a good pace up, even slowly running uphill roads and climbs most were walking. I started to have a bit of cat-and-mouse going with a guy who Keene's wife Carita and I pointed out earlier in the race--the archetypal bearded mountain runner. Watching him run (generally away from me), made my running feel both easier and more clumsy. Everyone has seen those runners who seem to run effortlessly along the trails (sort of like Landy) without putting out energy.

After running up a long dirt road, I caught up to him on some winding singletrack and downhill sections. After trailing him for a bit, he said, "Just tell me if you want to pass." He was running a pace that felt good, so I hung back and traded a couple comments. He then pointed out a row of tapped maple trees, with a system of clear rubber tubing connecting each tap and dripping to a common barrel. "See that? That's American ingenuity for you." Funny thing, I wouldn't have noticed it at all, or thought about what it was if he hadn't pointed it out. Now it's one of the sharper memories from the run.

My feet felt light and downhill legs felt fresh, so I asked to pass and scooted by. I'd see him again later.

A problem I tend to have during longer distance trail runs, is that I have too much fun. I run and enjoy the course, and don't pay enough attention to nutrition or hydration. I was carrying a hand-held water bottle, which I started with with NUUN, and added a tablet here or there at an aid station with water. I ate three Honey Stinger gels during the run, and a half of a banana. But I had no S-Caps (hadn't been using them during the last parts of my training runs), didn't take in enough calories for a body that isn't acclimated to running hills, and went for too long without drinking enough, just having fun running.

I passed through three aid stations during my leg, and walked in to the last one, which meant 4.5 miles to the finish, starting to fade fast. As I walked up to the table, I saw Kate Porter, the product designer at Ibex, who told Keene about the race, and ultimately got us up there. Kate was also running the relay and had started her team's final leg 10 minutes before Keene arrived. I had closed a 10-minute gap in about 15 miles. We chatted a bit and I set out ahead, feeling a familiar, unwelcome twinge in the legs and queasy running stomach.

I kept moving across fields and down singletrack, and in about a mile or so, my calves started cramping. Occasionally I was able to talk them down and visualize oxygen and blood flowing freely through them (please!), but they would come back to me, and I'd come to a tough uphill, where having to walk actually helped me out.

Then came the mud. Two sections of shoe-losing, ankle-deep suction mud, which created 10 pound shoes coming out of every sink hole. When we hit the second, longer section of mud-hopping, I joked with another runner that I had just manged to run my shoes clean. We slipped and high stepped through the section.

With probably two miles to go, Kate caught back up to me and asked how I was doing. "Ehhh, alright, except for the wicked calf cramps!" She asked if I wanted her to stick around, but I told her I'd get through it fine and to run her race.

As we came across a field and into a last wooded stretch, race volunteers had decorated the woods with plastic skeletons and signs like "Have you ever asked why you are doing this?" Which was shortly answered by another, "Because you can!" The next sign to come across was a hand-written sign that said "1 Mile to go!"

I couldn't get my calves to let go, but could make them run brief sections, then hop-step to others. The course finishes by zig-zagging you up a mountain, slowly, through the woods, only to send you down a ski run at the Mt. Ascutney Ski Resort (that's what it's there for after all!). With a sign that said "1/2 mile to go!" we had started the sidelong descent.

It was then that the bearded mountain runner re-appeared. I hadn't seen him since the last aid station, but he came quickly by me and said, "Way to go, man. You're almost there...seriously!" (since you can hear spectators at road races telling you the same thing with 6 miles to go).

Words of encouragement, the proximity of the finish line, and downhill gravity threw me down the grassy slope, passing more cautious runners as we got to the chute and in the winding chute as well. I spotted Keene and Carita cheering, then saw Robin further down, slapped her a high five and said hey to Rob and Katherine, with a half smile, half grimace, as my calves were completely bolt knotted and each pounding step hurt like hell.


Pain is irrelevant, and even enjoyable, when (and only when, perhaps) crossing the finish line. They had hay bails at the bottom of the chute to stop any overzealous mountain bikers who came screaming down the mountain, and I was thankful I didn't need the bails myself. I hobbled out of the chute, and was congratulated and knighted with a medal by race volunteers. I grabbed two more for Mike and Katherine and waited with the volunteers for the rest of the RUR crew to cruise down.

Our finishing time was just over 9 hours, which was good enough for 3rd overall relay team out of 13 teams. Full results and splits can be found here. Of that, Katherine was roughly 2:22 for the first leg, Keene 3 hours for the second, with me at 3:38 or so for the last section, and I told Robin between 3 and 4 hours. I moved well enough before cramping to still pull that off.

The next couple hours were spent reminiscing the various legs and wonders of the course, the folks we encountered, ducking under tents to dodge spot downpours, enjoying Harpoon I.P.A., a cookout, live band, and more laid back and happy people, kids, and dogs than we could count.

So our RUR relay Vermont adventure is in the books, but still fresh on the brain and in the legs. Finishing a race of any distance, I don't generally want to think about running. But within a couple hours, I knew I'd love to come back and try some or all of it again. Awesome volunteers, organization, course, and a high energy, highly effective race director. I highly recommend making a trip to Vermont next September, whether for a relay (smart), 50K (teetering on the brink), or 50 miler (cashews). Who knows, next year, maybe we'll have two Rise Up teams!

Robin is thinking, "Uumm...yeah, he is sweaty, muddy, and kind of stinks...do I have to get that close to him?" ;)

A Slugfest: Booty Rumble 50K race report

Let the madness begin...the start of the Team Slug Booty Rumble 50K around Killens Pond in Delaware. Derek Hills (dual citizenship with Team Slug and the Rise Up Runners) leads the charge wth RUR's Lori Callahan and Mike Valliant in the mix. Photo courtesy of Team Slug.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...this contest will be for ten rounds with each round lasting 3.1 miles of runnable singletrack. The heat will climb to around 88 degrees and the humidity will make it seem worse. If it any time you become unconscious or your corner throws in the towel, you will probably be offered a beer, but you will not have completed the Booty Rumble 50K.

ROUNDS 1 through 5

Bob and weave...the first loop around Killens Pond we get our bearings, learn the course, as first Derek Hills leads the way, then relinquishes the lead after a re-routed trail stymies him. Beautiful course, open trail, some roots, some wooden bridges through muddy spots, running by some cabins, then by a boat ramp and a 1/4 mile of road before looping back to the check-in and aid station.

The Delaware Slugs are great people--ultra runners and ultra running enthusiasts, who have battle scars and stories from various races, and are friendly, gracious, and encouraging on the trail and at the picnic tables.

Pace seems easy, speeding up at times, and finishing each 5K loop in under 30 minutes. 10K in 55 minutes or so. Runners are spread out, but there are still a few of us running around each other. I start thinking greedy and say to Lori, "You know, if we keep this pace, we might finish in under 5 hours..."

Lori is more reasonable (and right), "And if we don't, that's okay too..."

Of the Easton/Rise Up Runner contingency, Derek has moved ahead a bit, and Lori and I zig-zag through the first three loops or so, with her quicker through the aid station, and me catching up to her on the trail. We're in the aid station at the same time after three, and I run four at a good clip to catch up, but wind up catching up to Derek, who says his legs feel like bags of cement. I'm feeling good, so I move on ahead. Turns out Lori had lingered a bit longer at the aid station to adjust gear. Finish loop 4 (20K) in under two hours. As I am leaving the aid station to start loop 5, I see her heading in.

Loop 5, still feeling strong, coming in under 2:30 for 25K. Half-way there. The shoes I am testing for Trail Runner mag have been rubbing funny, so I switch to a more trusty pair of Inov-8s I have at the aid station and my feet feel lighter. Legs feel good, stomach is intact, in the back of my mind, the 5 hour 50K is still whispering.

ROUNDS 6 & 7

Loop 6 is more of the same, though my mind begins to feel like it's in the rinse cycle--lap-happy and on auto-pilot, but still functioning and not screaming at me. Finish 30K in under 3 hours.

Loop 7 has me a little dizzy. Still running, but not strong. Man, it must be getting hot or something! Got some Shot Bloks down, but stomach isn't happy any more. Shuffle in for 35K, fallen off the pace of the previous six loops, but, hey, it's another loop in the books!

ROUND 8

1...2...3...

How'd I end up on the mat? The Killens Pond's Pondside Trail doesn't pack a wallop. It doesn't have a knockout punch. More of a glancing blow. What's going on?

Tank is empty. Stomach is on strike. Legs are not cramping, but the mind/body no longer wants to make them run. So I walk...most of the loop. I expect Lori will be coming by me this loop, and she does. She's fairing a bit better, steady, working with a 10:1 run/walk cadence. She's got momentum and pushes on ahead.

4...5...6...

Dizzier. No desire for food, stomach won't allow any. It's a casual race. Most folks were doing a few loops, or the 25K. 40K is all I've got in me today. It's a fun run...and I am relegated to walking. I'll just walk the rest of this loop and call it a day. Drink some water, chill on the picnic table, wait for my stomach to feel better. Is it really a DNF on a fun run? I'm okay with a DNF...maybe...man it's hot...I'm done. I'll just get around the loop. Pick it up to a shuffle.

I pull in to the aid station and I'm done. No will to keep moving. I sit on the picnic table, grab some ice for the back of my neck and sit down. I drink a little water.

Fella comes over who'd run a few loops. Just ran the Skyline 40 miler the weekend before. Had to powerhike the last section because of stomach issues. Had thrown up for 35 miles at the Massanutten 100-miler before dropping. Didn't want two DNFs in a row, so made himself finish Skyline. Before that had ran well at the Umsted 100, but hadn't been able to get his stomach right since.

"Just two more loops," he says. "You can just walk 'em to bring it home if you have to."

7...8...9...

I'm up. Sitting helped. The ice helped. Water for the last loop has calmed my stomach. I take an S-Cap and drop a NUUN tablet and ice in the water bottle, to make sure cramping doesn't become a factor. At some point while sitting, my legs found there way back. I'm running again leaving the aid station.

ROUNDS 9 & 10

For the second five loops walkers, campers, fishing folks have been laughing, shaking their heads seeing me go by again. Must be a sight! My legs are working again and I'm able to run. For less than another 10K now, I know my stomach will cut me some slack. A little trail weary, but passable. I finish loop 9 and tell the good folks at base camp I better do a "cool down" loop.

As I'm leaving the aid station, I see Derek coming in. "Last lap?" he asks. "Last lap." "Alright!"

Loop 10 is like 9--running, not fast, but running most of it. The road around the pond, past the public ramp is a welcome landmark, knowing it's pretty well finished. I find enough foot speed to make myself look like a runner again down the stretch to finish. Some cheers and a whole lotta smiles. 50K (31 miles) finished in 5:48. Lori is in already (and much quicker to recover), clocking in at 5:40, and not five minutes after I sat down, the cheers picked up as Derek came across the proverbial line in 5:52.

RECAP

A little unorthodox for a race report, but I'm not sure what is orthodox about running 31 miles in the middle of June :) Team Slug, Delaware welcomed us with open arms and gave us everything we needed to gitterdun' on a hot day. An exceptional (and exceptionally funny and kooky in a good, ultra running way) group of folks, who know how to have a good time.

They've got a more holistic race report, and a bunch of pictures that sum up the day in images over on the Booty Rumble 50K race page. There's also a quick shout-out of thanks and congratulations to Lori and Derek on our Rise Up Runners blog.

Mentally, the Rumble was one of the more difficult runs I've done, not for the difficulty of the course, but for the ease of stopping at the end of every loop once you get tired! For me, point-to-point, out-and-back, and even a bigger loop, make for an easier race, even with tougher terrain.

Having said that, the experience was great. The people were fantastic. And I've stretched out the soul again to see what's in some of the corners that don't get used until/unless you push yourself past where you are comfortable.

That said, when ultra running and I cross paths, I think I prefer it to be in the spring, fall, or winter. Isn't summer supposed to be for vacations? ;)

A Tale of Two Races: The Delaware Trail Marathon Report

Amongst the crowd, just after the start at the Delaware Trail Marathon, one of four races during the Triple Crown trail race series. Photo by Joel Shilliday.

In any race of 26.2 miles or longer, my goal is to finish and enjoy as much of the race as I can. Having said that, the marathon is not my best race. Yet. It may never be, but I think I'll keep plugging away at it. And if my marathon endeavors can be mostly on trails, so much the better.

One of us will be updating the Rise Up Runners blog with photos and a more holistic look at the day--Joel was a masterful photographer, waiter, fastpacker, you name it, and ran a smoking 10K on a difficult course; Mike Keene ran the "Triple Crown," which consists of a half-marathon, a 10K, and a 5K, consecutively. He has a great race report on his blog; and you'll hear a bit here about fellow trail marathoner Landy Cook--so this post is dialed in pretty closely on the marathon.

The Delaware Trail Dawgs have a running playground of a course that may be the envy of the Mid-Atlantic states. Hilly (REALLY hilly if you train on Maryland's Eastern Shore), wooded, great singletrack, creek crossings, and open meadows--a diverse terrain for running. The marathon course is two loops of the 13.1 mile half-marathon course.

The trail marathon started at 7:35 a.m., 5 minutes after the half-marathon. We tramped across a field, before turning downhill, then winding through the woods on twisting singletrack. I am a runner who is compelled by gravity--I run falling fast down the downhills and quickly through wooded singletrack, while struggling on the steep uphill climbs.

A 5-minute lag in start times, meant that many marathoners would catch and intermingle with slower half-marathoners pretty quickly. That was the case, and I got stuck behind people throughout the first part of the course. This could well have been a blessing, as it made me hold back and pace myself.

Crossing the White Clay Creek was a high point of the race--a high point we hit 4 times, each more refreshing than the last. The "other" side of the creek had some superb singletrack, which finally emerged to a long, gravel, and dirt climb. Uncharacteristically, I ran the climb, pushing past a number of runners, until we emerged onto a winding, sunny meadow trail. On the first lap, I enjoyed the meadow, since it got us away from climbing.

The meadow marked the far point of the loop, and on the way back to the creek, I found myself feeling great and passing people consistently, particularly on the more technical sections. As I approached the creek to cross back over, I caught up to Landy, who I ran with pretty well from the second to the third crossing, when I was feeling fresh and motivated.

We hit the half-marathon mark at 2:08, without ever pushing the pace, and feeling reasonably well. Landy had been recovering from the flu for the past week, and was questioning racing at all until Friday. As we hit the halfway point, a conversation worth noting:

M: "You know, this would be a great day, finish a half-marathon, enjoy the cookout, and I'd feel great going home, cut the grass, work in the yard, whatever."

L: "Yeah, that would be the common sense approach, wouldn't it? Then again, long distance running and common sense don't generally go together, do they?"

I ran at a consistent pace up until crossing the creek for the third time. At that point, my nutritional sins from the first lap caught up with me. I had only eaten two gels and been drinking water, and taking S-Caps for sodium. I simply wasn't taking in the calories I needed for the second half of the race. I stopped to re-tie my shoes on the far side of the creek, and Landy pushed ahead, "I'm gonna keep moving, and I'll let you catch up to me." That was the last I saw of him until the finish line.

My tank hit bottom empty, and when I stumbled out to the next aid station, I loaded up on boiled, sliced potatoes and M&Ms. I struggled with low-t0-no energy and debilitating leg cramps for the rest of the second lap, strategically running where I could, and power-walking when my legs were too cramped to run, or I came to a steep uphill. Some of my best and fastest stretches or lap 1 were my toughest stretches of lap 2.

That said, I was running a trail race, and was having a blast. I tried to stock up at aid stations and shuffle along in between. With a couple miles left to go, you could hear the crowd at the finish, without being able to gauge how close you were. But pushing up the final hill and turning the corner to the grassy finish, my legs came back and allowed for a reasonable hundred yard dash, past a trifecta of smiling and cheering Rise Up Runner comrades, for a finish time of 5:02 and change. My slowest marathon, but on undoubtedly the toughest marathon course I have run, and certainly the most fun.

The final stretch of field to the finish line, with renewed energy and legs. Thanks to Joel Shilliday for the photo.

I have some work to do on the nutritional end, to get stronger on the second half of a marathon. I'm not so much worried about time as running a complete race. I'll have one or two more marathon chances this year, so stay tuned.

The Delaware Trail Marathon was my first Trail Dawgs race, but certainly won't be my last. A great crowd of people, a fun race, awesome aid station volunteers. And probably the most fun, which isn't touched on in this post, is that this was the first race since the Rise Up Runners group was formed, and four of us made the trip to race. I hope this is the first of many races together. We'll see which one is next.

Woody Sighting: Austin Marathon Report

James "Woody" Woodring (right), a thru-hiker we met on the Appalachian Trail who had St. Michaels connections, is now a marathon man.

Readers of the 4-1-Run may remember the encounter Keene and I had with Woody, the AT thru-hiker whose grandmother lives in St. Michaels. We were inspired by Woody's quest, his mentality, his humor, and his stories. We were even more surprised when he called us on his way to St. Michaels, and shared dinner with us at the Keene residence in Wittman.

Well, Woody has gone and run himself a marathon. The Austin Marathon in Texas, to be exact. He recently e-mailed a report to friends and family, which I happily pass along below. As far as we can tell, Woody did not strap on his 20-pound backpack before the race.

Austin, TX

"I awoke super early, around 4:45, stretched, ate a light breakfast of oatmeal and grapefruit, and hopped on my bike. I pedaled downtown, arriving an hour before race time. Much excitement and energy in the air! After a futile attempt to rendevous with my cousin Natalie, who also ran the full marathon, I found myself being left behind as the crowd surged forward at the start of the race. I jumped a divider fence and began the run with what I figured was my pace group.

"What a stampede it was! As we made our way south on Congress street, slowly breaking up like thawing ice floes, the street went lower and lower in until I was in kind of an elevation trough, where I could see 12,000 people in front and back of me. Amazing! I was exuberant at the beginning, emotions and endorphins running amok. I remembered what I had read about starting off too fast and burning out too quickly, so I made an effort to find my pace despite being caught in the massive flow. It was at this time that I realized I had jumped in the line far ahead of my pace group, when a pace runner ran by waving a sign that read 3 hr 30 min. Too fast! As I was aiming for a 5 hr pace, I slowed wayyyy down and before long found my happy place.

"As the sun rose, the street became littered with hats, gloves, shirts, and warm ups people shed in an attempt to cool down. Before long, the half-marathon-ers split off from our group, and the runners spaced out considerably. Some people began to converse, others grimly set their jaw and looked straight ahead. At every mile marker or so, volunteers had set up tables stacked high with cups of water and sports drinks to rehydrate runners as they pounded by, not to mention the medics who handed out bits of vaseline, of which the importance is not to be underestimated when running long distances. There were also many bands, singers, drummers, and cow-bellers along the way, setting a rhythm and boosting spirits with their energy. They played a marathon of their own. What a blessing to have so many supporters lining the roadsides to encourage us, or at times, to keep us herded in the right direction ;)

"I stuck to my plan, hitting up every hydration stop, as well as slowing to walk at least once every mile, 30 seconds on the odd miles, 1 min on the even miles, which worked superbly. I pushed myself harder than I ever have before. At the end, when the experience was most intense, I seemed to be detached, running on a cloud, albeit a painful one, and as I went down the home stretch, the noise of the crowd and announcer was like a muffled ocean in the background. All too soon, it was suddenly over. At 11:37, I crossed the finish line, making my chip time 4:33. Not bad, when my goal was simply to run and finish.

"My cousin Natalie was right behind me the whole race, though I didn't see her until after we both had finished because I couldn't hobble back up to the finish line in time to see her cross. Although it is a wonderful thing to run with someone, as opposed to alone, we each have our own race to run, our own battle to fight, and we were both very happy to share our individual experiences afterward.

"Now I must rest my body, and look forward to new goals. Luckily, my cousin Eric made that one easy on me today, and proposed the idea of the Beach to Bay Marathon in Corpus Christi in May. What can I say? I'm hooked."

Congratulations to Woody and his cousin Natalie! What a great accomplishment. We will try to boondoggle Woody into coming up to Maryland for a race. Who knows, he might turn into one of those nuts who wants to do 50 marathons in 50 states.

"More to Life:" a JFK 50-Miler Report

Mikes Keene and Valliant at the pre-race meeting at the Boonsboro High School Gymnasium just prior to the start of the 45th annual JFK 50-mile race.

For what is ostensibly a "race," none of the runners in the JFK 50-mile race seem to be in any sort of hurry. At least not if you run where I do in the race. The opposite really: everyone is chatting, encouraging each other, laughing. It's more like a group run. But that's probably what deciding you are going to try to run 50 miles will do to you.

For those who are less narratively-inclined, there were three Eastern Shore boys that we know ran on Saturday. All three finished:

Stephen Bardsley - 9:35
Mike Keene - 10:35
Mike Valliant - 11:28

If you are interested in scoping the official results, you can check em out on the JFK website. Interesting how we each finished an hour apart from each other, though I have to say that it was in direct proportion to how prepared each of us was. Bardsley trained like a madman. Keene has unbridled energy and seems to bound between strides. And in this particular case, I was not trained well for the challenge, having been sick, then short on time.

It didn't make the most sense for me to try to run on Saturday. But maybe the best way to describe the reason I did is to steal a quote from the back of the shirts a certain team wore: "the JFK 50 miler - there is more to life than logic and common sense."

I had a sense that if I took my time and focused on my mantra for the day--"conservation is key"--that I had a shot at finishing. And crossing the line under the 12-hour cutoff time was my only goal for the day.

The race is a run in three parts: 15-ish miles leading up to and on the Appalachian Trail, 26.4 miles on the C&O Canal Towpath, and then a little more than 8 miles on the road, winding up and down hills to the finish. Anyone who knows me and running, already knows that the single-track and switchbacks on the AT were the highlight of the race for me.

I cruised on the rolling stretches, passing a good number of folks, then zagged ahead of a group I was with on a set of serious switchbacks. I ended up hitting the C&O in a little under 3 hours and 30 minutes.

The canal towpath is scenic, flat, and dirt. Given how long you are on it, it can feel like a revolving loop--that you are running over the same stretch of some alternate reality. Though completely untechnical, and having no hills, this was the hardest part of the race, for mental /psychological reasons.

A few key factors went in to me finishing at all: 1) taking Succeed "S" (electrolyte) caps, which kept my legs cramp-free for 50 miles, 2) a decision to shun Gatorade for water and get calories and carbs from gel, bananas, pretzels, and food along the way, and 3) the advice of JFK veterans on the Annapolis Trail Runners group to tackle the towpath in an 8 minutes running, 2 minutes walking cadence, or some variation thereof.

As soon as I got on the towpath, I started following my watch and rocking the 8-2 split. My 8s were not fast, but I will tell you that 8 minutes seems to last a lot longer than 2. Knowing that I had a scheduled time to walk, and then get going again, kept me occupied and moving forward with a plan. It allowed me to keep moving forward, by design.

That stretch of the canal path was one of the most difficult combinations of mental and physical determination that I have ever been through. I wouldn't call it fun, per se. But what brought it close to being fun, was the STELLAR aid stations, volunteers, crews, fans, etc. who are there cheering, feeding, encouraging everyone. A memorable hand-written sign at one station said, "Never underestimate the power of a large group of stupid people." Another, advice from a wife/crew to her husband running the Badwater Ultramarathon (135 miles), "You aren't puking, nothing is broken, so get going!"

The emotional lift I got when we turned off the C&O canal, and stepped back into reality on the road was surreal. With 7 miles to go in the race, I had more energy and better legs than I did with 7 to go in the Baltimore Marathon. I was cruising by people--largely in the dark at this time--giddy, slaphappy, and digging it all. I pushed a little hard, and neglected an aid station, and with 2.5 miles to go, I started feeling light-headed and stumbling a little.

I thought about those people who pass out or collapse within sight of the finish line, and how much that would suck to have happen after running 47.5 miles. So I throttled back and walked the next mile, while sucking down a gel, and some M&Ms at the next aid station. I put back enough in the tank to shuffle downhill and across the flats to come in to the final quarter-mile and be able to run the end and cruise into the finisher chute in 11:28:47.

I found Keene in the locker room and from there, through the bus ride back to Mike's truck, through the entire ride home to the Shore, swapped race stories; folks we ran with; low points and highlights; the overall experience. I will have substantially more to say about what I take away from the JFK at a later date here.

It all comes back to the shirt. Logic and common sense would have had me sitting home (where I am thrilled to be right now!), waiting until I was better trained; or bagging the notion of running 50 miles. Instead I have cultivated, explored, and expanded those parts of the soul and the body, where logic sits quietly, in awe, and enjoys, not having to think.

Bay Hundred Bruisers: Baltimore Marathon Report

Four Bay Hundred Baltimorons: Mike "Tucks" Valliant, Mike "Wood Frog" Keene, Jim "Postmaster" Richardson, Pierre "Gel-in-his-hat" Bernasse, post-race, Oriole Park at Camden Yards for backdrop.

One week ago, I finished a 10-mile run, out of breath from having been sick, and was sure I couldn't have run a marathon. After one more 4-mile run during the week, I went to Baltimore on Saturday with the goal of simply finishing the marathon. I accomplished that goal. The better story is the camaraderie and accomplishment, that our group of Bay Hundred banditos came away from Baltimore with. The short story version is:

Mike Keene - 3:52:00
Pierre Bernasse - 4:17:04
Jim Richardson - 4:35:21
Mike Valliant - 4:40:18

Jim Richardson earned two significant awards: 1) best time vs. goal (he guessed about 5 hours, first official marathon), and 2) coolest bib number: #2345.

Pierre ran his second, and hilliest, marathon to date, and set a PR on a tough course.

Keene went up with the hope of breaking the 4 hour barrier. He signed up at the expo with a 3:50 pace group, and straight took care of business. Baltimore is not an easy course to set a tough time goal against. Mike went out hard and kept it going.

As for me, I feel good when I complete a marathon. I am thrilled for where I ended up Saturday vs. a week ago. And it made the race and the day to be there and have all four of us finish. A moment like that, shared, is sublime.

By way of a race report, the Baltimore Marathon was, for me, a tale of two races. There is the 18-mile race, that I ran well for--walking only at aid stations to get water or Gatorade. I ran with or ahead of the 4:15 pace group for the first 17 miles of the race. My splits for the race were (clock time, not chip time, which was about 1 minute, 15 seconds faster): 59:34 at mile 6; 1:36 at mile 10; 2:06 at half-marathon; 3:09 at mile 19; 3:36 at mile 21.

Then there was the 8.2-mile race, after the 18-mile one, that I limped through. At the half-way point, I was feeling good and on pace for a 4:10 finish. Everyone who runs Baltimore is well aware that the race begins at mile 16, after you have gone through Fells Point, and then turn uphill for miles 16 - 23. It is only truly "all downhill" when you hit the 25-mile mark.

For my compadres: I was able to catch a glimpse of Mike K. at an aid station outside Fort McHenry at mile 10, as I had just passed mile 9. Pierre came up behind me between miles 14 and 15, looking fresh, we chatted a bit, and then he trotted ahead, looking like 4 hours might be in the making. I looked up and saw Jim as I was grabbing Gatorade at the mile 17 stop. We ran together for a good part of miles 18 and 19, he went ahead, then I started catching up to him after we rounded the lake at mile 21, only to have to let him go.

Two years ago, when I was well trained, I hit the half-way mark in 1:55 and was crushed by/at mile 15, for various reasons. This year, I past the mid-mark slower, but held pace until almost mile 19. Much better in that respect. Also on the positives I should note that I really didn't have muscle cramping like I can get. I tried to drink more, and took one Succeed S-Cap every hour or so. Two other notable occurrences: 1) I picked up speed consistently on the last mile, running at a good clip through Camden Yards, and then finishing the race down the chute at a full sprint, whipping by baffled runners over the last 100 yards, and 2) I finished 3 minutes or so faster than the last time I ran Baltimore.

I have yet to run a complete race in a marathon or longer race. This year, inconsistent training, then bronchial sickness, made me work for my finish. The last two races (Holiday Lake 50K and Delaware), debilitating leg cramps stopped me to a hobble, until I could push through them, but where I had good paces going through 17 miles in the 50K and 20 miles in the marathon. And my first shot at Baltimore was a similar story to this year.

I feel like I have been in shape to run a sub-4-hour marathon, though not on Saturday. I do feel like I have unfinished business--food on the table--with the distance. But that business will go unfinished, the food will go cold, for a while. Maintaining a balance with family, work, house, etc., is too much right now with long race training. The 2008 race calendar, for me, will peak at 13.1 miles, with a goodly number of 10s thrown in for good measure.

Race times aside, Saturday was the best race experience I have had--where everyone felt such a sense of accomplishment; so much a part of a community who have done something remarkable in its own right.

Heat Trumps Hills: the A-10 Report

Course map of the Annapolis 10-mile race, which treats runners to a stroll through downtown Annapolis, the Naval Academy, and the Old Severn River Bridge. From the Annapolis Striders website.

A couple things occurred to me today, while running the 32nd annual Annapolis 10-Mile Run:

1. Heat trumps hills
2. I don't like racing very much, at least not during the race.

The day started meeting Stephen Bardsley and his son Joshua at the Stevensville Park & Ride, and cruising to Annapolis to pick up another runner, John from Gaithersburg, and go pick-up packets at the Naval Academy's Marine Corps Stadium.

A year or two ago, Runner's World voted the A-10 one of the top ten 10-mile races in the United States. This is not without reason. Running through Annapolis and the Naval Academy is a great perk. The old Severn River Bridge is a rite of passage. And the folks who live across the bridge, as if to apologize for their hilly-arse neighborhood, are out in force with extra water stops, orange slices, and encouragement. That's the upside. The downside to popularity is that over 5,000 runners sign up to enjoy Maryland's capital city.

After a successful, pain-free packet pick-up, I snagged a pack of Clif Shot-blocks from a store set-up, talked shop and expectations with Stephen and John, and then each of us made our way through the starting gauntlet to find our place in the packing order. I wouldn't see Stephen again until mile 7 or so, coming back toward me on a turnaround, and would catch John after the race.

The silver lining to today's heat: we didn't run yesterday in the 90-degree-plus sweat box. The downside: Annapolis at the end of August is hot. Period. And heat sits like a howler monkey on my shoulders during races--it weighs my shoulders down, smacks the back of my skull, and laughs while I suffer.

Ten miles is not that far a distance for me to run, even these days, at the front-end of marathon prep. But it sprawled longer than advertised today. I hit the first few mile marks in the 8 minutes and 20 seconds range, which was where I wanted to be. I opted to carry an Amphipod waist bottle pack, since I needed the extra fluids in Chestertown this past May.

Funny, small-world running story: from about miles 2 to 6, I was running just behind and around an uber-tan lady dressed in black with an Amphipod waistband, black visor, etc. Through talking to folks around her, it became apparent that she was a triathlete. When I heard her talk, I recognized her voice, did the math, and picked her out as the same lady with whom I ran about 10 miles of the Holiday Lake 50K in February--Melissa Simmens from Columbia. I was pretty sure, but opted not to pipe up, since I figured I'd drop the pace before long. Checking race times, confirmed it was her. People look different when they aren't running outside in 12 degree weather!

Anyway, I stopped at aid stations, used some of my own Gatorade, ran in a trance through most of the middle of the race, then at about mile 7.5, had to duck into the woods as nature called and let me know I would enjoy the rest of the race more with an empty bladder. Consequently, I may be one of the few A-10 runners to get wicked leg scratches from thorns during the race.

The extra pit stop was a good call--the Severn River Bridge was not a problem, and I passed a fair amount of folks in the last mile of the race, with a will that felt bent out of shape by the heat, but thankfully legs that decided to run on their own. I crossed the finish line in 1 hour, 25 minutes, and 23 seconds, corrected time, for a per mile race pace of 8:32. Official standings make that 1093 out of 4376 finishers. The good news here is that my hungover 6-year-old time was 1:26:59, so I accomplished my goal. The mixed news is that this means I won't be training for future A-10s by partying the day before the race.

Catching up with Stephen, he finished the race in 1:17:31, corrected time, for a pace of 7:45 (446 out of 4376 finishers). He was pleased with his race, and slugged down all the water he carried on a Nathan belt, as well as grabbing water at aid stations. I don't know John's last name to look him up. For full results, visit the Annapolis Striders website and click on "2007 results" under the race name.

The real race day highlight came as Stephen and his wife Lauren hosted a post A-10 cookout/pool party, complete with a moon-bounce for the kids. A great mix of kids, runners, teachers, and more than enough food, Corona and Miller Lite to put back on what we sweat out. Many thanks and mad props to the Bardsley family--the next post race, or for no reason at all, get-together will have to be in Talbot County!

A painful, hilly 10-mile race leaves me in an interesting spot for the next couple months of running. I have to take the mileage of my long runs and stretch it like salt-water taffy to get ready for the Baltimore Marathon and the JFK 50 miler. I really don't know what the hell I was thinking signing up for a 50-mile race!

Tea Time

Bay Hundred residents Mike Keene and Pierre Bernasse get fuel and gear straight before the Chestertown Tea Party 10-miler on Saturday, May 26.

I am not hot. I wouldn't show up on the list of what's hot that Paris Hilton dubs with whimsical insight. Maybe that has something to do with why it is difficult for me to post personal fast times in heat-laden races.

On Saturday morning, Mike Keene, Pierre Bernasse, and I made a pilgrimage to the annual Chestertown Tea Party 10-mile run. Mike and I ran this race last year, and were sure to put it on our calendars this year as well--due in part to its Eastern Shore location, beautiful course, enthusiastic volunteers, and well, beer truck at the finish. After the Cherry Pit 10-miler in early April, this was my second 10-mile race of 2007.

Logic and the best-laid plans don't always hold for running. Leading up to the race, I figured: with a course less hilly than the Cherry Pit and some more quality runs under my belt, I had a shot at a 10-mile PR (under 1:20). Then there's that damn heat. Gotta remember that next year.

There is a fantastic energy around the Tea Party runs, 10-mile and 5K. Runners from everywhere, including plenty of Talbot County harriers, and the gathering at Washington College and running through Chestertown and then the back roads around the town, make for a memorable race. In my mind, there are only two down-sides to this great event. The first manifests itself in the form of a mass start, without chip timing, where the 10-mile and 5K runners and walkers crowd a narrow line and then have to sort through each other for the next 3/4 of a mile.

This year, one thing made the starting line chaos worthwhile. The race director made an announcement to all runners that there was a blind runner, who has run the race for several years, who was there to run the 5K, but needed someone to act as a guide. They asked for volunteers who ran at a similar pace, and a middle/high-school-aged girl stepped up to the plate, as well as some of her friends and running partners. An inspirational, heart-warming moment, that would have slipped by many of us, were there a tiered start. I will take that trade-off.

Mike and I both realized we had to position ourselves further toward the front than last year, which allowed us to come across the line with relative ease compared to those further back.
Also playing on last year's experience, we both opted to carry a bottle of Gatorade.

I hit the 1-mile mark at just under 8 minutes. I held that pace until the first aid station, where I walked to slug some fluids. Mad props to the family just before mile 4, who put their hose out as a mister for runners-by. Unfortunately, I could tell at about that point, that it was going to take more than cool mist for me to beat the heat. Though it was beastly hot, I can still take some pride in the fact that I was not one of the dudes puking on the side of the road.

The heat seemed to have an impact on most everyone. After I hit mile 6, I made a point to walk and drink Gatorade at mile markers 6 - 9. I needed every bit of it. This "strategy" (aka necessity) didn't help my speed, but did allow me to finish upright. I have known that heat can thrash me, but that came back in a real way with the hottest day of running for me so far this year. I managed to salvage a decent clip on the last mile, passing a couple folks and feeling decent turning for the chute.

I finished in 1:26:01, according to Tri-Sport Events results (my watch had it 2-4 seconds faster, but I will give them the benefit), which put me across the line 98 out of 289 finishers. Mike Keene banged away a 1:20:44, 70 overall, and Pierre rocked a 1:28:01, for 112 across the line. Pierre got a great training race in, sandwiched between a 20-mile run the previous weekend, and his first marathon attempt, June 9 in Mont St. Michel in France.

Easton's ultra-running legend Don Marvel (right) advises Pierre Bernasse in the prudent uses of the Force.

A lot of familiar faces in Chestertown: Easton native Trevor Robbins, who took 2nd in his age-group with a 1:16 and change performance, Greg and Brent Prossner, Tracy and Matt Saulsbury, Lori Callahan (female winner of B2B), Don Marvel (who won his age-group in the 5K), Ellen McGee of Annapolis Strider and Gotta Run Shop fame, and met Talbot County triathlete Bill Webb. Kind of funny aside, talking with Ellen, I mentioned always seeing the name of Annapolis Strider Robert Cawood near the top of distance runs and ultras--as it turns out, Cawood was the overall winner of the race. For full results click here,

The moral of the story is that I would have dug running faster, but so it goes. I try to make it a point not to get hung up on times--no matter your time, you always run a race faster than if you stayed home. I think heat was the deciding factor, and I heard the same story from other runners, almost all of whom were less than thrilled with times, but overjoyed to be finished the race. And it is after the finish that I will air my only other critical comment about the race: the long and potentially confusing walk from the finish area, back to the start, about 1 mile away. It is what it is.

To wrap it up, if you are looking for a great 10-mile race for your late spring calendar, go for the Chestertown Tea Party 10-miler. It's as hilly a road course as you will find on the Eastern Shore, so challenging by regional comparison, but easy next to its western shore kin. And it is a stellar event to tie in to your Memorial Day weekend.

B2B Showtime!

An enthusiastic bunch of harriers storm the first of two Knapps Narrows drawbridges on the way to finishing the first ever Bridge-to-Bridge Half-Marathon.

A funny thing happened this past Saturday: close to 60 people gathered in front of Tilghman Elementary School and then ran to St. Michaels. You can't blame them, really--the weather was custom-ordered for running. And by the time the last one ran under the old Knapps Narrows Bridge and into the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, the first annual Bridge-to-Bridge Half-Marathon was in the books.

For me, it was the culmination of about a week with no deep breaths and a lot of spinning in circles--and one forced (for sanity) run on Thursday to scout the 5K course. At the end of a 12-hour day Friday, I left the Museum at 12:30 a.m., after chalking the 5K with Tim Bamforth of the Seashore Striders, then helping organize awards. I was back at 5:00 a.m., on sub-2 hours of sleep, to help set up tables, park cars, and get everything square to get the race underway. At that point, I was not sure I was going to be able to swing running in the race. What ultimately got me to run was the bull-rush of CBMM's Cristina Calvert and John Ford, who took over logistics, and the velcro-hand of friend and training partner Mike Keene, who threw me in a truck and drove to Tilghman. But on to the good stuff.

Parking cars set the tone early. People were pulling into the Perry Cabin field with smiles that matched the weather and great enthusiasm for a new event. Talking to runners I knew and those I didn't carried me into the day. The arrival of "Team Claiborne," Suzanne Scott and Jim Richardson for the 1/2, John Scott for the 5K, with matching signs was a highlight. Seeing local speedsters Stuart Horsey and Matt Dunn arrive, I made a guess at who our front-runners would be.

After a sign-planting trip to Tilghman, and a brief word to the assembled runners as to where the aid stations would be located (funny, I forgot to tell folks how to get to St. Michaels), the gun fired, and we followed an ambulance off the island. Crossing the first bridge, it just felt cool to be a part of an inspired group aiming toward St. Michaels and CBMM.

When you divide roughly 60 people by 13.1 miles, chances are you are going to have long stretches of spread out runners. I ran most of the race by myself, with miles coming between 8 and 9 minutes. I pushed myself, but not overly, and made sure to take the scenery in from Eastern Bay to sunny fields, to stretches of trees. A few folks passed me along the way, but I didn't make a move to try to stick with them, just kept my own pace and followed the shoulder. I have found that races I run that runner/triathlete David MacKendrick also runs in, I tend to keep him in sight, at closing and fleeting distances--and he is kind enough to wear bright colors, so I can see if I'm on pace!

#65 returns to the CBMM roost, not quite able to outsprint #27 (Pierre Bernasse) on the upcoming downhill gravel finish. The bib number reflects almost leaving for Tilghman without a bib, and running to the registration table to pull the next number. Sidenote: CBMM was founded in 1965.

I carried some Gatorade and half a pack of Clif Shot Blocks, to supplement the Gatorade and water at aid stations, and that seemed to work well. After a push at the end, and almost catching the runner in front of me (St. Michaels resident Pierre Bernasse) in a foot race, I finished my second half-marathon race in 1:50:12, a good 8 minutes faster than the hilly Baltimore course last October, doing well enough to earn 3rd place among the men in the 30-39 age group, somewhere around 16th overall (race stats to come). That's my brief account of the race I ran.

More interesting to me were the stories and finishes of the others. I took a post at the finish line to greet and congratulate the runners and give them Restaurant Local bottles of water. I was inspired to see ultra legend Don Marvel come in around 1:57, at 64 years-old, to win his age group. I was giddy when "Team Claiborne" finished in tandem, hands raised and smiles gleaming. I was charged to see Nancy Toby finish her 5th half-marathon in 10 weeks, posting a PR that bowled over her previous best. I was lifted to watch CBMM docent and volunteer Al Kubeluis, who had five friends stay with him from all over the east coast, so they could run the race together. But probably one of the most remarkable sights I have ever been a part of, was the 60+ great grandmother, 3-time cancer survivor, who was the final runner to finish.

She called me earlier in the week to ask if there were going to be cut-off times, as she sometimes has trouble staying ahead of them and being allowed to finish. I assured her it was a pretty straightforward course, and that she'd be able to finish. Her daughter, herself a grandmother, who also ran, went back out to greet her and run with her as she turned in to the Museum, and they crossed the finish line together. I can't think of a better way to finish a race.

(From left) Overall men's champion Stuart Horsey and women's champ Lori Callahan pose with their hardware in a fitting Chesapeake setting.

At the end of the day, there were a number of stories. Easton runners Stuart Horsey and Lori Callahan won the male and female overall races. Close to 100 runners came out for the half-marathon and 5K--with a U.K. resident finisher, a strong Annapolis Striders contingent, and a great showing from Eastern Shore runners. And I just get the sense that we started something really cool, worthwhile, and hopefully enduring.

Check back here, the Museum's website, and the Seashore Striders website for official results. And look for an upcoming issue of Running Times magazine for photos.

Cherry Pit 10-miler, aka "The Hill Report"

St. Michaels stalwart Kevin Baum finishing the Cherry Pit 10-miler on April 1, just outside Annapolis, Maryland.


They have yet to figure out how to import hills on the Eastern Shore. Kids in St. Michaels sled down the grassy incline next to the relocated Knapps Narrows Bridge at the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. Growing up in Oxford, we thought the "hill" at the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry dock on the Strand was fast. Neither hill is higher than 25 feet.

Coming from the flatlands, I have managed to log some hillish miles this winter, both at Tuckahoe State Park and certainly at the Holiday Lake 50K++ in Appommattox, Virginia.

A dose of winter hills and a training partner who is slightly faster than I am were certainly factors in running a PR 10-mile time of 1:20:25 at the Cherry Pit 10-miler outside Annapolis on Sunday.

The forecast called for morning rain and temps in the 50s, and thankfully was only right on the latter. Overcast and 50s meant perfect running weather. We had strong representation from Talbot County; I caravan'd over with Kevin Baum and his insanely fast (western shore) friend John Heller, and said hey to Dave MacKendrick, also meeting Nancy Toby and Chuck Potter, three of the "we're-out-to-run-every-half-marathon in the Mid-Atlantic" triathalon faithful.

The banter at the start was how hilly the course was and to come out slow, which fits me well, as I like to start slow and increase the pace over the race. The course was as advertised: rolling, hilly, and absolutely beautiful. Rural, wooded back roads opened up to sweeping horse farms everywhere, with even a llama farm thrown in. I asked the road crew at registration if they were having Gatorade (yep), so I opted not to carry fluids for the race.

I hit a comfortable stride and let the course run the race, adapting along the way, and found I was hitting each mile marker at a hair over 8-minute miles. I was fine with that, wasn't pushing the pace, felt good, high energy (had 3 Clif Shot Blocks about 30 minutes before start), and legs felt fine. I often found looking ahead at some of the slow, rising incline hills that I didn't realize I was going uphill while I was on them.

After about mile 7, I picked the pace up a bit, pulling up to a group who had been slightly ahead of me. I guess I passed a few and ran in the middle of the group. Mile 8 was unmarked and mile 9 started slightly downhill. I realized I had too much in the tank when I hit 9, which was fine, but I cut loose at that point and ran the last mile at almost a full-on run, pushed pretty well up a 30-40 yard uphill towards the finish, and then just kept pace, not sprinting at the end, just keeping the legs really moving. One of the organizers on the uphill at the end made the comment that I looked too strong to be at the end of the race--he was right, I could have run faster, sooner, but really just felt great. Crossing the finish, I didn't have that "I-don't-want-to-run-another-step-I-need-to-sit-down" feeling I had at last year's Chestertown Tea Party 10-miler or the Baltimore Half-Marathon, for which I am thankful.

So I ended up at 1:20:25, a 10-mile PR on probably as hilly a 10-miler as is around here. Nancy and Dave also posted PRs, despite having run the National Half-Marathon the previous weekend, and heading to Ocean City on the approaching weekend.

Let me make a quick comment about John Heller. I first ran into this cat a couple years ago when he won the Oxford Day 10K, passing Stuart Horsey, who led much of race, in the last couple miles. Coming into Sunday, he had not really started his training season, had blister problems during the race, and still ran 1:03, good enough for 22 overall, 2nd in the male 30-39 category. Depending on the field, I would call him a legitimate threat to win or place at the Bridge-to-Bridge Half-Marathon, if he is on board.

I really can't say enough great things about the Annapolis Striders, who put on well-organized, challenging races. The Cherry Pit is in stark contrast to the Annapolis 10-miler they hold in the heat of August, which runs through downtown Annapolis, the Naval Academy, and the old Severn River Bridge. A great course, but being a rural guy, I have to give the nod to the Pit.

The Striders have race results posted on their website (gotta love chip timing, they were posted same day) and will have photos of the race online within a couple days. Check out their other offerings and sign up for a race if one grabs you. Next on the race calendar are the Bridge-to-Bridge Half on April 21 and the Chestertown Tea Party 10-miler on Memorial Day weekend.

Holiday Lake 50K++

Two miles to go at the Holiday Lake 50K++, photo by Andrew Wilds Photography.

“The Reason I Run” (quoting another HL runner)
By Michael Valliant

I know I am having a good run when there is ice in my beard. We aren’t a mile into the Holiday Lake 50K++ trail race in Appomattox, Virginia, when I smile, noting that that indicator is in place. This same semi-masochistic enjoyment is likely a part of what got me to sign up for my first ultra-marathon.

Starting at 6:30am on February 10, the temperature is 14 degrees, and the outlook is dark. There are more than 250 runners signed up and we all corral ourselves through the starting gate and push up a paved hill, following the guidance of those runners who are wielding flashlights.

Turning off onto winding single-track, the line of runners snakes through the woods with mild road-blocking at turns, quick descents and climbs. The first aesthetic epiphany comes on a turn out of the woods and across a longish foot bridge over the lake, with a nice drop of rushing water crashing beneath us before climbing wooden stairs and winding back through the woods.

This stretch is right along Holiday Lake, which now has fog lifting off the frozen surface. It’s a good idea not to spend too much time taking in the view, as a couple stretches will drop you 15-20 feet into the drink from a rocky misstep.

After more singletrack and some forest road, we check in at the first aid station, where I opt not to grab anything since my water bottle still has its share of Gatorade and I am a few gels on the rich side and feel on stride with pace and nutrition/hydration. We turn hard left and I let my legs go down a good stretch of downhill gravel road. It feels great to fall down it, until I think about the fact that—with the course being a loop around the lake, and then retracing the same loop backwards—I am going to see this hill again from the bottom, when I am much less inclined to have good legs.

On the descent, I see and start to catch my training partner who, as I am, is from Maryland’s Eastern Shore, where you will find more people with the last name “Hill,” than you will ever see elevation above sea level. We are from the land of flat farmland, plentiful rivers, creeks, and the Chesapeake Bay, where only Tuckahoe State Park will give trail runners any rolling terrain.

Coming up a rolling incline, we emerge from a stretch of woods into an open pine area, headed north, northwest, with the sunrise coming up over the east. Melissa, a fellow Maryland trail runner, with whom I had fallen in stride, says to a group of us, “This is why I run!” She has spoken for the bunch of us.

We later catch up with my fellow Eastern Shoreman, Mike Keene, and a new aquaintence, Todd from Pittsburgh, who, like Melissa, has a number of ultras, including 50-milers under their belts. Perspectives from all the runners I meet over the weekend are hugely helpful.

Everything is plodding along a-pace as we check into aid station # 3, at the 9-mile mark, which I hit at 90 minutes, spot-on. I am pleased, as this is my pie-and-chips-in-the-sky pace for the race.

A small bridge and a log, each a hair downstream from stream crossings enable the packs I was running with to keep mostly dry feet on the first loop (I would lack the energy or wherewithal to care on the way back and just trounced through the crossings the second time through).

After aid station #4, we fall into a single-file line through the woods, five runners deep, and hit a cadence that feels like boot camp. I point this similarity out, and Melissa from Maryland deftly points out (with a laugh) that there is nobody standing over us or barking at us to make us do this! Looking back, perhaps race director David Horton has cameras and loud speakers in the trees to bark at slack runners.

It’s at this time when the frontrunners of the race begin to pass us on their return loop. They are flying and inspiring and receive cheers from all of us.

Between aid station #4 and the turnaround, we start to hear an odd, but beautiful song from the lake as the ice cracks and melts. That sound, along with the sunrise, has taken residence in my being. Of course, I did posit later that it could have been the croak of the giant playground frog on the lake, which would have been memorable for different reasons.

We begin to pass an increasing number of runners in this last stretch; all are gracious, encouraging, and fast on their return. The grind is just starting to get to me as we reach the half-way turn-around point. We check in at about the 2:55 range, which I am happy with, but get the feeling I will not maintain. I ditch the Outdoor Research jacket I started the race in, which was perfect, but has become too warm, change to a lighter baselayer and zip up a Patagonia Houdini, which works well for the return loop. I fill my water bottle and grab some pretzels and M&Ms.

Gear is about the only thing that goes well for me on loop two. Before I reach the second incarnation of aid station #4, intense cramps set in on both of my quads and into my calves. This has happened to me before on my longest runs, but I was hoping they wouldn’t hit today until mile 25 or so, not mile 18. I walk through the cramps and run until they return.

About this time, my stomach turns sour and protests the thought of any more gels. It begrudgingly agrees to pretzels and a few M&Ms at aid stations as I encounter them. So I’ve got recurring muscle cramps and a stomach on strike against nutrition and hydration. Other than that, things are great!

I fall into and out of several great people on the trail—fellow sufferers in many cases, working through issues, beating down their own demons. I feel like crap, but I am enjoying the effort and the people, and the spirit of both. I never consider stopping, though I am not moving fast by any standard.

The last cut-off point comes and goes, and the enthusiastic volunteer informs me I am 45 minutes to the good, which is encouraging news. My favorite crutch to lean on for the loop home are the bright orange course markers—I pick one a good space ahead and make a goal to run to it before succumbing to a quad-cramped stumble. I can understand how easy a “Best Blood” award can be had; letting go on a downhill when my legs aren’t working well could easily bill me as a human slinky.

The aid station volunteers are both a source of nourishment and encouragement. They welcome us, grab and fill water bottles, and broadcast the ever-decreasing number of miles to the end. After checking through the last aid station at 6:05 hours in, calf cramps are an issue, and the final 3.5 miles of singletrack are tough, but fun.

Emerging from the woods, I hit the pavement, which Horton has been gracious enough to give to us as a downhill to finish. On my way to the finish, I pass some of the folks who gave me support and conversation, as they are heading to their cars, and each throws out knowing congratulations. I pass through the finish line at 6:48:00, managing some time before the 7:30 cutoff. I have just finished my first ultra-marathon.

Trails are my preferred terrain and a source of soulful sustenance. Having said that, by necessity and background, I have run more roads and competed in more road races. My road times in distances from 10K to 20 miles range between 8 and 9-minute miles. I have some work to do to acclimate to hill country. I have to dial in my nutrition—eat and drink more—and figure out how to ward off leg cramps. During the second half of Holiday Lake, I was most looking forward to the race being done. The days after the race, I look forward to more time on the trail; to figuring out how to run a better race; and to my next ultra marathon goal: 50 miles at the JFK 50 in November.