Belleville Pond 10K

In a sport in which the difference between one's perception of success and failure can be a few seconds per mile, it is liberating to run a race without any concern for the clock. Nothing provides this freedom like a snow-covered trail race, and Ryan ("Jonny") Park has become just the place to find such a race.

After last year's success, there was no doubt the daggers
would be making a return appearance at Belleville.

With the huge snow event of two weeks ago and the ensuing cold snap, we were guaranteed another snowy Belleville Pond 10K. Those of us who ran (and enjoyed) last year's powdery race were excited for the prospect of another memorable experience. Anyone who hadn't been through this before was about to learn the hard way just how incredibly challenging it can be. One benefit of having run this race in similar conditions was an awareness of the footwear that would be required. I lucked out last year by throwing on a pair of 12-year-old XC spikes with 1" daggers that worked wonderfully in the snow. The trusty spikes were summoned again from their basement dwelling for their annual usage. I also tossed a pair of Kahtoolas into my car just in case the spikes weren't doing the trick. This turned out to be an unintentionally savvy move, as I gave them to Muddy to wear after his failed attempts to make some DIY spikes at home. Teamwork!

Jonny and I did a loop on the course beforehand to test out our footwear and get a sense of the conditions. Jonny had famously run the course sixteen times or something in the previous week, breaking trail and packing down the crusty snow. I shutter to think what the course would have looked like without his heroic efforts. The section we ran was in fairly good shape, but the warm-up underscored the importance of focusing on every single foot plant. One misstep into a boot hole or off the side of the trail would result in a slip or stumble and the loss of valuable ground.

I was enthused about this race for a number of reasons. One was that I wanted to defend my title from last year. More importantly, I wanted WTAC to reclaim the top spot on the podium after losing to Rhode Runner at the last race. However, I was most excited just to see how the race would shake out over the first few miles. In a road race, everyone finds their appropriate places after a few minutes, and the rest of the race is spent battling the same guys you always battle. In a snowy trail race, everything changes. For instance, at last year's race, a train of about 10 guys of various abilities ran together for the first half of the race. And even when it finally broke up, the runners sorted themselves out in far different positions than if it had been a road race. This year. with Eric Lonergan, Anthony Gonsalves, Steve Brightman, and a few other speedy guys in the mix who hadn't been in attendance a year ago, I was curious to see if things would shake out differently. Would someone hammer from the gun? Would the inexperienced snow/trail runners struggle? Would Jackman rip his shirt off in the woods again?

All was about to become known as Mike Galoob lined us up on what is normally a basketball court. He had the nerve to suggest we move back to the other end of the court to start, but no one budged. We weren't running a single extra step in this race. After the customary humorous announcements, Mike sent us off, and we were immediately faced with a decision to run through an icy parking lot or through deep snow. I chose the parking lot and was happy with my choice...for a few seconds. I suddenly realized I didn't know how to exit the parking lot and decided to shoot laterally between two cars into the deep snow rather than take my chances with the unknown at the end of the lot. I felt like a running back cutting sideways through a hole in the line and then bursting through to the end zone. Touchdown! Oh wait, I still have six miles to go, settle down, you fool, settle down.

I strategically positioned myself directly within the single set of tracks. (Photo by Jana Walker.)

It seems I am pushing Brightman in the back. No recollection of that happening, but I'd definitely do it again if given the chance. (Photo by Jana Walker.)

Running(?) on the icy parking lot. (Photo by Jana Walker.)

Jackman was the lucky one to reach the trail first, followed by Muddy, Gonsalves, and then me in fourth. The pace was quick, and no one seemed eager to take over from Jackman. How long until someone made a move? We struggled as a unit through the offshoot from the main trail in the first mile, and I noticed that Gonsalves was slipping all over the place in his road flats. I wondered what was going through his head at this point. Was he getting frustrated, or would he be able to battle through the poor footing? I took a peek back when we spilled back out onto the main trail and noticed that six of us (the four already mentioned, plus Rhode Runners Lonergan and Brightman) had opened an unexpectedly large gap on the rest of the field, led by Jonny. Our pack continued on to the rail bed, no one even making an attempt to pass anyone else until midway along the rail when Jackman got a few strides on Muddy, and Gonsalves surged into second. I immediately followed, not wanting to take any chances of missing the inevitable break. It sounded like others behind me had done the same, but I didn't have a chance to look back and see.

Jackman continued to lead the group toward the power lines. Gonsalves really struggled to get his footing up the steep rise. I twice fought the urge to put my hand on his back and push him up. Eventually, someone behind me (Brightman, I think) vocalized his desire for me to go ahead. I'm a sucker for peer pressure and immediately sprinted by Gonsalves and settled in right behind Jackman as we headed for the dreaded Route 4 section. This stretch was just as difficult as advertised. My quads were burning like we were running up a mountain; the few short downhills didn't even come close to providing the relief they should have. As the two of us suffered together, I got the sense we'd broken away but I didn't dare look back yet. At long last, we exited the woods, and I had a chance to assess the damage behind us. Brightman was maybe 10-15 seconds back, and I didn't see anyone else with him. That section had torn the race apart, and we were somehow the beneficiaries. I hoped our hard effort wouldn't come back to haunt us later on, as we were only halfway through this darn race.

At this point, I was feeling thankful to have company, though I wasn't sure if Jackman felt the same way, especially since I was letting him do all the work. I kept tabs on the race behind us every couple of minutes, wanting to make sure we buried these guys for good before we got back to the easier sections. I even told Jackman to "keep your foot on the pedal." We were working together; I hope this didn't violate the terms of my WTAC membership.

During this part of the race, I started to plot out a potential move. I was feeling quite good but wasn't totally confident that I had the fitness to sustain a push from two miles out. I also had no idea how Bob was feeling. I decided I would wait until just before we turned off the rail bed in mile 5 unless a pursuer necessitated an earlier break. When we got back to the rail bed and the footing improved, Bob picked up the pace, as expected. I was still biding my time but getting antsy. Then, on a casual glance back, I was startled to see Brightman only five seconds or so back. It was time. I abruptly sped by Jackman and told him to come with me. I said that to be nice and because I truly wanted him to do well after all the effort he'd put into the race, but I realized after I said it that it might have seemed self-serving, since Jackman beating Brightman could be the deciding factor in the WTAC vs. Rhode Runner battle. I perseverated on my lack of tact for a bit but then quickly focused back on the situation at hand.

When I turned off the rail bed, I noticed I had put a few seconds on Jackman. I really didn't want this to come down to a sprint through the brutal snowy field, so I knew I had to pound this final trail section and put the race away as soon as possible. I took a peek around every curve and saw the lead was growing. When I turned onto the "trail" around the baseball field, I was feeling confident that I had things locked up. That was until I tried to mount a kick through the deep powdery snow. It was agonizing trying to make headway here. When I looked back, Jackman and Brightman seemed as if they were suddenly right behind me. No! This couldn't be happening. I tried to step in Jonny's snowshoe tracks, but they were so darn close together. I felt like I was doing one of those military tire run exercises. I stumbled down the slight hill toward the finish, trying to ignore the few spectators laughing at my awkward sprint, and finally crossing the line in 43:53. The final field section sprint had been at 9:05 pace, no doubt my slowest kick ever.

Mounting a lethal kick through the snow. (Trying to get under 10:00 pace.)
(Photo by Jana Walker.)

Falling toward the finish line. (Photo by Jana Walker.)

I was thrilled to have defended my title at the Belleville race, and even happier to solidify my apparent affinity for snow racing. Who knew? I turned around to watch Jackman out "sprint" Brightman, who was followed a bit later by Lonergan. Rhode Runner had two of their three scorers in already, and I was beginning to get nervous about the team competition. Just then, the WTAC train appeared -- Muddy, Jonny, and Jeff placed 5, 6, 7 to wrap up first place for the team. Our depth was on full display, as Seth wasn't far behind Rhode Runner's 3rd guy. Interestingly, I finished almost exactly the same amount of time ahead of Jackman as last year (27 vs. 33 seconds), despite taking two very different approaches to get there.

I was extremely impressed that so many people showed up for a race in the snow -- nearly 100 finishers in some truly adverse conditions. We're part of a great community of runners. Kudos as usual to the Galoobs for braving the raw conditions for hours on end and putting on a great race. I should also mention that the course was VERY well marked -- something I've come to appreciate since my disaster in December -- no small feat given the conditions and length of the course.

Finally, a quick analysis of the mile splits last year vs. this year, showing that the conditions, even in the tough Route 4 section, were consistently faster this year.

Nearly every mile was ~30 seconds faster than in 2014. Mile 2 was an anomaly due to last year's wait-and-see race tactics.