Old Mountain Field 5K

If you like stories with morals and lessons and teaching moments, then you'll enjoy this one. This is the tale of the Old Mountain Field 5K, the first race in the South County 4th Season series, and one of the most unusual and eventful racing experiences I've ever had. Let's get right into it.

The plan
My typical race plan, especially on trails, is to run patiently and trust that I'll be able to catch the fast starters before the race is through. This is a nice, safe strategy that has served me well. It's also terribly boring. How boring? Here's Jeff's description of this approach from his blog post:

"Normally, prudence dictates a conservative pace at the start to save some endurance for later in the race."  

That's right, it's so boring that words like "prudence," "dictates," and "conservative" are used to describe it. Oof, that's boring. I decided to use this year's OMF race as an experiment in aggression. My plan was to take it out hard and hammer the first mile and then see what happened after that. There would be no safety net; if I died, I'd get swallowed up by a long train of smarter runners, all too happy to let this over-enthusiastic fool pay the price for his poor pacing. But if it worked well, I'd be in control of the race and have another racing tool in my toolbox for use in future races.

Pre-race
My race preparations were thrown off by our baby's poor sleeping and eating the night before, as the morning was spent going through our near-daily routine of deliberating over whether the baby is sick with some rare disease or just being a normal finicky baby. Additionally, Katie was considering running in the race, so we had to make sure all was in order with the kids before leaving the house. By the time I got to the race, registered, and got changed, it was 15 minutes to the start. Nate and I jogged around the reservoir, which turned out to be helpful in locating some convenient places to pass on the single-track if the need arose during the early potion of the race. Since we were low on time, we didn't get to run the twisty section near the parking lot as I had hoped, since I didn't know very well, but the course was extremely well marked, so I wasn't too worried (foreshadowing...).

Chatting with Jonny on the line. Farther back, dark-haired girl is giving Katie the once-over. Photo by Jess Garvin.

Off we go. The fabled "man in black" (read on to learn more) emerges from the shadows on the far right.
Photo by Jess Garvin.

The pack sprints like lunatics to get into position before the single-track begins. Photo by Jess Garvin.

 The race
I was surrounded by the usual suspects on the starting line but knew there would be at least one newcomer (Venable) who would likely challenge for the lead. As Mr. Galoob sounded the siren, the field took off absurdly quickly. I heard Jonny and Muddy joking about already being in 40th place after about 4 seconds of racing. As we rounded the corner of the baseball field, I was only in 6th place, despite my atypically aggressive start. Normally, I'd stick where I was and figure out how to pass these guys later on, but I needed to keep to my plan. I kept my foot on the gas and passed three guys before the bridge. I didn't recognize the two guys in front of me, but they looked young, and at least one was wearing XC spikes. Just as we got to the trail entrance, the leader missed it and shot off to the right, as if he'd spun out on an oil-slicked tight turn in R.C. Pro-Am (anyone remember that?). "Sucker," I thought to myself, with no regard whatsoever for karma's evil ways. Now in second, I couldn't let myself be complacent; I had to stay aggressive. I soon saw the plank bridge I'd noted as an ideal passing spot on my warm-up. If the leader took the bridge, I'd go through the muck to the left of the bridge and pop out ahead on the other side. Sure enough, he went for the bridge, and I went for the muck. Now with the lead, it was time to establish control and lose as many of the pursuers as possible. I ran recklessly over the bridges and rocks, never pausing to think about foot placement, just going for it. There were at least three guys who stayed very close behind for a bit. I finally got some separation over one of the technical rock bridges and made it my goal not to let anyone regain contact.

Around some of the tight turns after the mile marker, I had a chance to glance back and see how the race was unfolding behind me. There was a guy in black a few seconds back, then a gap to Bob Jackman and someone in white (a teammate? Brightman?). I didn't see anyone after that. I was starting to hurt from the early pace and noticed myself backing off as a result. I figured the others must be feeling the same way, and a Damian Lillard quote from Friday night's triple-overtime Blazers victory over the Spurs came into my head. "Step on them," Lillard had said to his teammates before the third overtime. When I read that quote, I thought to myself, that's a tad over the top and kind of violent. But here I was, using those same words to motivate myself to pick it back up.

I tried to surge when I hit the power lines so that I would disappear into the woods on the other side before my chasers saw me. I continued to push up the hill, the same place where Jackman stormed by me last year in the snow, and where I sprained my ankle two years ago. It was an uneventful ascent this year, thank god. I reached the big rock where my sister and a few other spectators were quietly providing encouragement and then began the twisting, turning drop back toward the parking lot.

Passing the big rock in the lead...for now. Photo by Jess Garvin.

Video from the rock by Jin Nguyen.

Another look back at this point revealed a little more of a gap on the guy in black and no one else in sight. Who is this guy, and why does he look so darn good still? Whoever he was, I hadn't broken him, but I was beginning to feel confident that I'd be able to hold my lead through the finish. The trail is so twisty in this section that I figured it would be hard for him to gain much time on me, as long as nothing catastrophic occurred (foreshadowing #2).

At the point where the trail parallels the parking lot, I saw a couple of spectators up ahead. Their positioning was right near what seemed to be a left-hand turn on the trail, so I took it. I began to worry when I didn't see any flags marking the way (as I mentioned earlier, the course was extremely well marked throughout) and the trail began to peter out. Around this time, I heard my name shouted from the direction I'd just come. In a panic, realizing how things had unfolded, I turned around and scurried back to the turn I'd mistakenly taken. I said something like, "Was that the wrong way?" The spectators turned out to be my sister and her fiance, and they sheepishly pointed me in the right direction.

Note: My sister apparently caught all of this on video but subsequently deleted the file because the video also captured her swearing as she'd realized I'd taken a wrong turn, and that was apparently just too embarrassing to bear. 

For a moment, I didn't think I'd lost much time, since I didn't see the guy in black ahead of me. But as I crested a hill, I spotted him maybe 10 seconds ahead. I was really frustrated with my stupidity, as I had clearly just cost myself the race by going off course. My only hope was that the man in black would hit a wall in the race's final half mile. I bore down and did my best to reel him in, but as we exited the trail onto the field, I knew it wasn't going to happen. I still kicked hard, more out of frustration than competitiveness. As I entered the final straight, I saw the guy ahead slow down and start to pull off to the side of the straightaway. It only took a moment to understand what he was intending to do, and I didn't want any of it. A few feet from the finish line, I pulled up next to him. He said, "Go ahead, you deserve to win," to which I replied, "No way. I took a wrong turn, you didn't. You deserve to win." We went back and forth for what seemed like a minute (and was probably only a couple of seconds) before Mike Galoob shouted something to the effect of, "Come on, you idiots. Cross the line already." I started to suggest we cross together when the guy shoved me across in front of him.

Historical anecdote: In high school, I was once disqualified from a XC race for holding my teammate's hand across the finish line, ostensibly for showing up the opponent. I wasn't worried about the same fate befalling me here, but the thought did cross my mind. 

Lost in all the polite mayhem at the finish was the revelation that the mystery man in black was Greg Hammett(!). I didn't even register this until after the finish. Wait, Greg Hammett? He's the guy? Why didn't I see him before the race? Why was I ever ahead of him?

Looking back on the race, I wonder how differently I would have run if I'd known I was being chased by Greg. I almost certainly would have had more doubts about holding on to first, and I probably wouldn't have tried so hard to break him, since he's a man who is rarely broken in a trail race. All of the mental energy I would have expended might have slowed me down enough that I would have lost to him regardless of the wrong turn. This race was like some kind of blinded psychological experiment to show that running performance is impacted by one's perception of where he falls on the hierarchy of competitors. It was a useful lesson in focusing my energy and thoughts on what I can control and not on what's happening around me.

Another, more depressing, thought that crossed my mind after the finish was whether I'd have done the same as Greg if our roles had been reversed. I have never seen someone so graciously give up a sure victory because he didn't think he deserved it. In my opinion, I deserved it less than Greg, as I'm the dope who went the wrong way. I have a bad feeling that I would have continued to run hard through the line and regretted it afterward. In fact, if history is any indication, I might not have even felt that bad about it. In a high school XC race my sophomore year, a rival went off course with about a quarter mile to go, and, while I yelled to him to get him back on track, I didn't slow down for even a second. Maybe that was different (I was 15, there were other runners near us, the guy who took the wrong turn was a notorious jerk), but it's the only time I've been in a similar situation, so my past is not on my side. Of course, having now had this experience, I will absolutely do the same for whichever poor soul is in my shoes. You might say that Greg Hammett just made me a better person.

Somehow, despite the wrong turn and finish line debate, Greg and I just got under the course record. This isn't as impressive as it sounds, since the course is only three years old and last year was covered in six inches of snow. Still, I'm happy about it, though I wish I knew what my time would have been without my troubles. (Based on my sister's video, I was about 12 seconds up on Greg at the big rock. Assuming that didn't change, and my estimate of being ~10 seconds back after the wrong turn is accurate, the mistake cost me around 20 seconds, give or take a few ticks. I know it obviously doesn't matter, but I can't help myself when it comes to these things.)

There were some great confrontations behind me, as runners crossed the line in little packs. Bob fought off Brightman for third. Muddy and Jonny had another one of their battles, this time joined by the newcomer Venable. Jeff and Dave Principe fought it out, as well. It was also great to see Seth and his janky knee run extremely well, while Nate came out of hibernation to run an excellent rate despite not really training for most of 2014. Finally, I was really happy to see Katie make it through her first trail race since 2004, though I had to face her wrath afterwards thanks to my pre-race description of the course as "a little rooty and rocky in places" in an effort to convince her to sign up.

The team battle was much closer than it ever was last year, thanks to TNT's new recruit Venable. Still, WTAC came out on top in the men's race. Meanwhile, TNT women won by a few points over WTAC, but I fully expect Katie's and Shira's post-pregnancy fitness gains to help eat away at the deficit.

Shivering while waiting for the awards. Jonny and I even allowed our entire sides to be in contact for several seconds in an attempt to warm up, but self-consciousness eventually prevailed over comfort. Photo by Jin Nguyen.

Thanks, as always, to Mike Galoob and family for putting on an awesome race. This series is a fixture on many runners' calendars because of the amazing job they do. Thanks also to my sister and her fiance for spending three hours standing around in the cold (really cold to them, as they live in Houston) only to see me screw up right in front of them. Finally, I am so appreciative of Greg Hammett's selflessness. I hate that he let me win, but he's just that nice of a guy.

New Paltz Turkey Trot

Our family has settled into a Thanksgiving routine of alternating trips to each of our hometowns to celebrate with whichever side of the family is lucky enough to receive us. This year, my parents were the chosen ones. We made the three-hour drive to New Paltz, NY, on Tuesday, which turned out to be well timed, as we arrived just ahead of an early snowstorm that turned the Hudson Valley into a glistening snowscape by Thanksgiving morning.

View of my parents' front yard on race morning. Should I have packed my snowshoes?

The New Paltz routine now includes a turkey trot, which was introduced 10 years ago and has quickly become a gathering place for runners and non-runners alike on Thanksgiving morning. The race is put on by Family of New Paltz as a fundraiser for a good cause. While it has drawn nearly 1000 runners in previous years, it's not your typical big race. There are no major prizes (more on this later), no timing company, and lots of people out to have a good time and catch up with old friends.

Driving to the race. FYI, DWP (driving while photographing) is not yet illegal in NY.

 When I arrived at the registration area, it was noticeably emptier than usual, most likely due to the previous day's weather conditions. As I was checking in, I heard an announcement about a change to the race course; we'd be doing an out-and-back on the road, rather than completing the usual loop along the rail trail, which was buried in 6 inches of snow. That was fine by me, as I didn't have any idea what kind of footwear would have worked for both the road and the snow.

After a short warm-up, I got to the starting line, where I bumped into a few former high school XC teammates. One was wearing a pair of striped women's leggings under his running shorts, while another dropped to the wet ground and started breakdancing as the national anthem was being played. The quirkiness of XC runners was on full display.

Milling about before the start of the race. I'm in the yellow. Eventual race winner is the one mid-air.

Five seconds in and still laughing at my goofy HS teammates.

This race is always a mixed bag in terms of competition, depending on who's visiting relatives in the area in any given year. There was one guy in particular I took note of before the race, as he was acting the part of fast runner -- singlet, arm warmers, doing drills on the line, etc. I've learned that appearances mean almost nothing when it comes to actual running ability, but I just had a feeling this guy was legit. Sure enough, as we took off, he shot out to the lead. Another young guy shadowed him, while I fell into the back of a pack of 5 or so others.

I didn't know any of the people I was running with, so I used my watch to gauge my position rather than basing my race off the other competitors. I intended to run around a 5:20 first mile and found myself drifting off the pace a bit; fortunately, when I tried to pick it up, my legs responded. By the time I hit the mile (in 5:24, slowed a bit by a couple of short hills), I was in third place, 15 seconds back from the top two, who were basically in a different race.

In the second mile, I saw up ahead that the fast-looking guy had dropped the not-as-fast-looking guy and was beginning to gap him. Any hope I had of winning the race was more or less dashed by this point, but second still seemed feasible. With the course modified to the out-and-back variety, I had a chance to see the top guys as they came the other way. Both looked pretty relaxed. I hit the turnaround in 8:35 and noticed that I was just over 1.6 miles on my watch. I had a suspicion that the revised course would run long, since the rail trail section that was eliminated was a straight shot back and the road took a more circuitous route.  Going back the other way, I fed off the enthusiasm of the back-of-the-packers (though I was nearly knocked off my feet by a teammate's vigorous high-five). My 2nd mile split was 5:19, now only 5 seconds behind 2nd.

I finally caught the 2nd place guy with about half a mile to go. I think he heard me coming up behind him at the start of the third mile and put in a little surge, but I gradually tracked him back down and pulled up along side him. I tried to say something to the effect of, "Hang with me," but, as a strict mouth-breather, I suffer from frozen-face syndrome on cold days, so what I actually said was, "Haaamwimmee." I'm think he got the gist. He did hang in there for a few seconds before I started lengthening my stride back down the hill we'd gone up at the start of the race. First place was a bit closer at this point but still far out of reach, so I just focused on maintaining 2nd and finishing strong. Mile 3 was 5:11. I rounded the final bend of the race and felt good as I kicked in toward the finish.

My final time was 16:56 for the ~3.2-mile course. This roughly translates to somewhere in the mid-16:20s for a 5K, which I am very pleased with. I still got thrashed by the winner but was satisfied with the race.

What award did I get, you might be wondering. Well, none. You see, this race is technically a 'fun run,' and the organizers take that to heart. There are no longer official results, or even unofficial results. The male and female winners are handed an envelope at the finish, and that's that. No one even took down their names or times, so I have no idea whom I lost to or by how much. I actually prefer this approach to the one they took two years ago. Then, they gave out overall awards and age group awards. However, the awards only went one deep, the overall winners were not removed from the age group awards, and the age groups were under-18, 18-64, and over-64. Can you tell this race isn't put on by runners?

This was my 5th time running this race, and really only the second that I've run my hardest; my history is shown below. You'll see I ran with three different high school friends over the years. Yes, I had that many friends in high school. Not many more but at least there were three.

History at the NP Turkey Trot
2014 - 16:56 (3.2 mile course)
2012 - 17:45 (very sick)
2007 - 17:30 (ran w/ HS friend a)
2005 - 18:06 (ran w/ HS friend b)
2004 - 18:30 (ran w/ HS friend c)

Li'l Rhody Runaround

The Li'l Rhody Runaround is quickly becoming my favorite race. The combination of challenging single-track and fast road sections makes for a fun course, and who doesn't love running around a body of water? Is there anything better than spotting a lake on a map and saying, "See that? I ran around it. No big deal." The race also serves as a bit of a local runner reunion, giving us a chance to see how we all stack up after pursuing various training regimens and goal races over the past few months. This was also the very first race I did after moving to Rhode Island in 2012, so at three whole consecutive years, it stands as the longest tradition I have in my adopted home state.

A few months ago, I thought I might train specifically for this race to see if I could lay down a speedy time. That plan went out the window almost immediately after it crossed my mind, thanks to previously documented mishaps, ailments, and joys. So, as has become the norm for me, I went into the race with no expectations and little idea of what I was capable of. I came up with two arbitrary goals just to have something to shoot for:

1. Run as fast as last year (47:54)
2. Defend my fourth place finish of the past two years

The first seemed totally impossible, given that I was in much better shape at this time last year. But looking back at my splits from a year ago, I realized that I had gone out far too fast and remembered suffering miserably over the final 3+ miles. I thought I might just have a chance if I ran more intelligently.

The second goal obviously depended on who showed up on race day. Greg Hammett and Mike Galoob would be untouchable, as usual, so that left just one more spot for someone else. Jonny? Muddy? Brightman? Jackman? Some interloper? This would be tough.

Because I'm delinquent in this post, you've probably read several other accounts of the race from a very similar perspective to my own. So, let's try something a little different. WWF different. When I race, I sometimes like to compare myself to a competitor in the Royal Rumble (you might want to familiarize yourself with the concept before reading on), tossing my opponents one at a time over the metaphorical top rope until I am the last one standing. I also like to prance around in a unitard, but that's another story for another day. So, let's look at the 2014 Li'l Rhody Runaround from this perspective, shall we?

Let's get ready to ruuuummmmmbbbbllleeee! 

The starting pair

One of the highlights of my childhood was the 1989 Royal Rumble, and I remember being blown away by the improbability of the first two competitors called to the ring being tag teammates Ax and Slash. Would they fight each other? Would they wait for the third guy and then team up against him? Could they survive the whole thing together?

The Ax to my Slash at this year's race would be Muddy. He and I lined up next to each other, and I thought to myself that we could very well stick together for most of this thing. He briefly told me of his totally inadequate goals (top-12 and sub-49). I laughed in his face and more or less told him to step up his expectations. I also wanted to say, "Let's tackle this together, teammate!" but I never know how to approach these race partnership proposals. I think it's the fear of rejection. In the end, it didn't matter, as we took off side-by-side when the race started. The Royal Rumble had begun, and it seemed we would fight together, for now...

Me and Muddy in our race gear. 

Entrant # 3: Jeff "Gazelle" Walker

As we spilled out onto the dirt road, I glanced down at my watch. 5:22 pace? That was way too fast. My goal for the first mile was to be over 5:40, so I backed off. Around this time, The Gazelle (from parts unknown) entered the ring to thunderous applause from the raucous crowd. Another teammate, this would  have been like Mr. Fuji (Ax and Smash's manager) drawing the third spot in the Royal Rumble. Given his race director duties, I asked him if this was both the race and his warmup. Indeed it was, he answered. Nothing like warming up with a mid-5 minute mile. My watch was quickly settling into the 5:40s, so I made sure to maintain my pace, gradually pulling away from Jeff. It was a gentle elimination; there was no pleasure in it, but it had to be done.

Entrant #4: Robin Idle
I entered the trail in the campground with Muddy still hot on my tail and a string of eight or so guys in front of me. There was a large gap between me and the 8th place runner - a guy I didn't recognize. He was clearly out of his class in this front pack, and we were quickly closing on him. My friends and I had a name for wrestlers like this: "Nobody Guys." These were the guys the WWF would throw in the ring against the stars to fill a program. They always had to go by their real names and never, ever won. Despite the anonymity of these guys, there was one - Robin Idle - whose name we always remembered after he got absolutely crushed in about 10 seconds against Ravishing Rick Rude, sort of epitomizing the fleeting existence of the Nobody Guy. (Thanks to the magic of the internet, I can now see that the infamous match occurred on 12/7/88. I was a captivated 7-year-old.)  Well, the Robin Idle of the Li'l Rhody Runaround got knocked around by me, Muddy, and probably several others on his way out of the ring. Goodbye, Nobody Guy.

Entrant #5: Brightman

At some point in the third mile, Steve Brightman entered the picture. He's like Hacksaw Jim Duggan when he's on his game: tough to beat and a real American patriot. This was not to be one of those days, as I was a little surprised to catch him so soon. It took me nearly six miles to overtake him at the Beavers race earlier this year, and, when I did, he held me off for some time before I finally made a move. I didn't want to deal with that this time, so I quickly scooted by as soon as I had the opportunity. Hacksaw and his 2x4 were thrown out of the ring.

Entrant #6: Nephew

Ben Nephew was a surprise entrant at this year's race. He must have been finishing up a FKT around the perimeter of Rhode Island when he decided to jog a few miles of the race course as a cool down. He was a bit of a wildcard, and I was a pretty surprised to catch him as soon as I did. This was like finding myself face-to-face with Hulk Hogan and bodyslamming him before I realized who it was. I followed him for a short time and was mesmerized by the lines he took and his efficiency on the trail. Nonetheless, I moved around him and awaited my next opponent.

Ben-a-mania!

Entrant #7: Jackman

Shortly after passing Nephew, I found myself behind my friendly nemesis, Bob Jackman. Bob is like one of those bad guys you can't help but root for - Andre the Giant or maybe Yokozuna. I thought about surging by him right away, but I wisely waited. Wisely, because we soon hit a downhill, and Bob leaned right into it, as he always does, putting a few seconds on me before I even realized what happened. I picked away at his lead again until I was right behind him as we exited the woods onto the road. My plan was to throw down a surge on this road to kick off a strong second half. I gave Bob a pat on the back and took off toward the trail entrance down the road.

Entrant #8: Nephew again

I could see Jonny up ahead in fourth place, still looking strong. He was to be my last opponent of the day. But wait. What's this? Hulk Hogan is running back into the ring! The arena has erupted into pandemonium. Or something like that. Just as I started to set my sights on Jonny, I got passed by the trail king on the road. He kept his lead as we re-entered the woods. This next section of the course can make or break the race. I was death on two legs here last year; this year I wanted to crush it. Was the Hulkster thinking the same thing? Would we team up? It was not to be. As soon as we reached the trail, he slowed back down, and I eliminated him once and for all.

Entrant #9: Jonny

Jonny (let's call him the Million Dollar Man, for his well-groomed beard and habit of sticking hundred dollar bills in people's mouths) still had a 10-second lead going into the woods and was looking strong. I tried not to focus too much on him and instead thought about running as technically perfect a race as possible at this point. I wanted to destroy my second-half splits from last year and figured if I did that and Jonny still beat me, so be it. I finally found myself closing in behind him and settled into that position, as I knew Jonny would fight hard to hold his spot and I didn't want to overexert myself going by too soon. I ran a step behind him for a minute or two. He hadn't looked back yet, and I wasn't sure if he knew it was me. I nearly announced myself but didn't want to waste the breath. Once the opportunity presented myself, I surged around him and tried to keep the pressure on. Not only didn't he know it was me behind him, I'd apparently all but vanished from relevance. I believe his exact words were, "Oh, I forgot about you." Memories of high school came flashing through my head.

I started to struggle at around mile 6.5. I found myself tripping over seemingly every root and rock, constantly looking back to gauge just how much of a gap I had on Jonny. At one of these glances, I saw that Jonny had company in the form of Muddy. It looked like it would be the three of us battling for 4th, 5th, and 6th the rest of the way. My gap wasn't much, and it seemed to be closing. I reached the road and hoped to have some speed left for the long stretch to the finish. I could see 3rd place (Ryan Carrara) maybe 15-20 seconds ahead, but he might as well have been 15-20 minutes ahead. I wasn't catching him. Despite putting everything I had into each stride, I felt like I was running through caramel, maybe with some nougat involved. (Still eating Halloween candy here, can you tell?) Worst of all, I could hear the slapping of someone's shoes behind me. My entire race plan involved me doing the chasing; the tables weren't supposed to be turned on me. At last, I could see the entrance to the parking lot, and I knew I'd make it. I turned the corner, waved to the family, and charged toward the finish. But wait, do I go around the trees to the right or hug the turn to the left? Why didn't I remember this? I gave the ol' "which way" shoulder shrug to the spectators, and they pointed me to the right of the trees. The clock came into view and was ticking away through the 46:50s. One last sprint to crack 47, but I was too late; I saw the time switch over to 47:00 just as I crossed. (My watch was 46:59, but officially was 47:01.) Before I reached the end of the chute, Jonny and Muddy had both crossed the line. I suppose I won my own personal Royal Rumble (only passing, never getting passed, during the race), but it turned out we were the undercard on the day. The heavyweight championship between Mike Galoob and Greg Hammett had already happened, with Galoob taking the belt home this year in record-breaking fashion. I hope it's not the last time we see that pair go at it.

Rounding the corner (a bit too tightly) to the finish line. Photo by Jana Walker.

To say I was shocked by my time would be a massive understatement. I thought it might be possible to break 48, but nearly breaking 47 was just ridiculous. As others have mentioned, the trail conditions and weather were great, and the competition was fierce. For me, the biggest factor was pacing. I ran much smarter than last year, taking my time over the first two miles and trying to keep an even effort the rest of the way. The mile-by-mile comparison chart below shows that the time I sacrificed in those early miles was already made up by the end of mile 4 and the rest was just a bonus. Also, I finished 4th for the third straight year, despite improving almost 2.5 minutes in that time. Just another way of saying this was a fast year.

All in all, a satisfying personal performance and just as satisfying to see so many others exceed their own expectations. Thanks to Jeff for directing the race and so many others for volunteering to make the event run smoothly. I'm already looking forward to next year's edition.

Williams Alumni Race

Last weekend, the family embarked on our first road trip since the arrival of kid #2 back in early September. We headed west, to the Berkshires, for the Williams College Alumni XC race. The race is held on the trails and fields of Mt. Greylock High School, Williams' home course since my freshman year (1999). The course has changed several times since my days to make it more spectator friendly (more fields, fewer trails) and championship ready (wide, well-maintained trails, and good drainage).

View of Mt. Greylock from the XC course.

This would be my seventh time running the race since graduating. I've quickly become "the old guy" among the alums who show up. In fact, I think I might have been the oldest alum in this year's race by four years. This has not been good for my self-esteem.

I had hoped to take a quick tour of the trails during my warm-up, but Katie and I haven't yet adjusted our race day routine to handle the needs of two kids, so I found myself with only five minutes to race time when I was finally able to relieve myself of Seb.

Funny side story: As I was jogging through the high school gym, trying to find Katie so I could hand off Seb and get to the starting line, I wasn't paying attention to where Seb actually was. When I finally found Katie on the other side of the gym, she was wearing a worried look. "Where is Seb??" she asked. "Right behind me...," I said, turning around and slowly realizing that he was not. Then from amid a throng of college kids 50 yards away comes Seb, looking all around and saying, "DAAADDDDYYY. Where ARE YOU??" "See, right behind me," I said as I ran outside and away from trouble.

I managed to get in a solid 4-5 minute warmup behind the starting line as the race official gave the instructions. Before I knew it, the gun went off.

The meet is a very low key invitational, attended by a few lower-tier DIII schools. Williams, always strong (ranked 3rd nationally in DIII this year), runs its sub-sub varsity guys at the meet (#13+ on the depth chart) in order to rest its other guys for the upcoming championship season. This all adds up to a pretty noncompetitive field, allowing us old guys to feel like we're right in the mix.

I wasn't sure what kind of shape I was in coming into this race, having not raced since August thanks to a persistent knee injury (along with a baby and a bout of Lyme disease). My plan was to go out in ~5:30 for the first mile and see what happened from here. Well, I did just that, hitting mile 1 in 5:32 and feeling OK. The second mile is a tough one, winding through a moderate trail section and then culminating with a steep, long hill. I got passed by big group of guys going up the hill. I thought to myself that I'd reel them in later, but that never happened. I crested the hill feeling fatigued and worried about how much I had left in the tank. This is also the spot where I fell and hurt my knee during a race early in my senior year, causing me to miss almost the entire season. Good memories...

1200 to go. If there was an arrow labeled with a shorter distance, I'd have taken it.

Mile two was 5:51 (and it felt like it). I tried to gain some momentum heading down the other side of the hill but was pretty much just maintaining my position at this point. We looped through the main field by the school and headed back into the woods to do the first half of mile 2 in reverse. I caught a couple of guys in the woods but had nothing left to build into a final kick. I managed to turn on the jets for the final straightaway, passing the Williams assistant coach, and finishing in 17:44 for 29th place and the 8th alum. I was not very pleased with the results, as I ran 35 seconds slower than last year's disappointing race.

	2013	2014	Difference
Mile 1	5:17	5:32	+0:15
Mile 2	5:53	5:51	-0:02
Mile 3	5:26	5:50	+0:24
Last 0.1	0:32	0:30	-0:02

Went out more conservatively this year, which seems to have helped in Mile 2, but the third mile was a disaster.

I had a nice cool down and caught up with a couple of the younger alums before heading into the gym for a typical Williams post-race spread: a gallon jug of peanut butter without any bread, empty plates that had once held treats, and a few scraps of apple cider donuts.

A little post-race analysis brightened my spirits a bit. It seems that all of the guys ahead of me who'd also run the year before had finished 20-40 seconds slower this time. Could we all be in worse shape? That certainly played a role in my case. But I'm also wondering if the rain earlier in the week had softened the ground enough to slow everyone down. There were no puddles or muddy spots, so I hadn't considered that possibility during the race, but it seems like a reasonable theory.

Name	2013	2014	"Unimprovement"
Kamm	15:43	16:22	0:39
Abasolo	16:24	16:45	0:21
Raduazo	16:40	17:06	0:26
Hyland	16:42	17:25	0:43
Rodilitz	16:47	17:06	0:19
Garvin	17:10	17:44	0:34

The top guy here recently ran a 1:05 half marathon. No chance I'd be hanging near him.

I also discovered that the Williams assistant I'd out-kicked was a legendary DIII runner from North Central College whose career likely hit a new low the moment I went by him. I would have been lucky to have finished within two minutes of him back in his prime.

My Williams Alumni Race History
2014 - 17:44 - 29th (8th alum)
2013 - 17:09 - 12th (8th alum)
2012 - At a wedding
2011 - In California
2010 - Injured
2009 - 17:52 - 11th
2008 - Racing a duathlon
2007 - 26:40 - jogged/injured
2006 - 18:29 - 26th (2nd alum), muddy & slippery
2005 - 16:58 - 5th (1st alum)
2004 - 17:25 - 9th (1st alum)

Some shots of the Williams XC course from a "few" years ago...

1999 Little 3 meet

      

2002 Purple Valley Classic (a few miles before the fall)

2002 ECAC championships (first race back from knee injury)

Schonning 5K

Looking at my racing schedule this summer, it is tempting to say that I went a bit overboard. After all, from July 4th through August 20th, I ran six races at 100% effort. That's six races in six weeks, all out. But I couldn't help myself. Summer racing is just too darn tempting, with so many fun local events that I haven't tried before. Who knows how many more years I have in these legs. I might as well take advantage while I'm reasonably fit and healthy. As a side benefit, the heavy race load served to get me back into shape after the ankle sprain in May. Of course, racing into shape isn't as efficient or safe as following a proper training plan, but it's a whole lot more enjoyable. My plan for the rest of the year is to be more purposeful about my training in preparation for some late fall races. I'm thinking about consulting my old college training logs, so it should be fun to relive some of those memories (and get depressed about how fit I once was).

The final event in my summer racing extravaganza was the Roger Schonning 5K, held in downtown Westerly. I was told by some of my teammates that this is a fast course with PR potential. This seemed like a good time to see what kind of speed I had in my legs, given that baby #2's arrival is imminent, and my training and racing schedule over the next few weeks/months is a bit up in the air as a result. My road 5K PR is 16:21.8 from last year's CVS Downtown 5K, and I thought that might be attainable after last week's WTAC "Fun" Run. The plan was to go out at 5:10 pace and see how long I could hold it. Even if I came reasonably close to hitting these split, I should be able to grab the PR with room to spare.

Lining up at the start, I mostly saw familiar faces up front (Tom, Jeff, Matthew, Mike). I didn't know many others, but the fact that no one was toeing the actual starting line was a pretty good indication that there wouldn't be any front runners in the group. I tried one last time to convince Tom to run with me as long as he could (he was still recovering from last week's half-ironman), but he politely declined. Come on, Tom! Forget about your health, this is about ME!

Already looking kind of serious. Lighten up! (Also, look at Jeff's face.

I'd love to know what he's thinking.) Photo by Jana.

At the gun, I took off hard down the road and through downtown Westerly. Within a minute or two, I was alone with the police car. I found my pace and hit mile 1 on target in 5:10. (I should say that this is what I assumed to be mile 1, as there were no actual mile markers on the course. This is probably my only gripe about the race.) Mile 2 has a couple of mini-hills that feel rather tough when they fall in the middle of a pancake-flat course. In preparation for this race, I perused my teammates' Strava entries from previous years and saw that the pace typically tends to slow significantly in the second mile due to these hills and the momentum-killing cone turnaround. I was conscious of this as I tried to keep pace with the police car (who was all over the place redirecting people attempting to drive on the course). I hit mile 2 in 5:18, a little slower than I would have liked but within the realm of my expectations.

Mile 3 is a blur in my memory except for one part. As I crossed Route 1, the police car stopped to make sure the intersection was safe. He stopped for a bit too long, and I ran past him. Is this acceptable racing etiquette? Was I supposed to wait for him? That seemed like it would have been excessively polite, so I proceeded on, running right down the middle of the road as if he were still there. Suddenly, I heard a car behind me, I moved to my left and waved him by on the right. Just as I did this, he flew by on the left! Yowzers! I nearly got clipped by his mirror. I crossed mile 3 in 5:13 somewhere during these theatrics.

Keeping an eye on the clock and wishing it would slow down.

Photo by Jana.

I turned left at the top of the park and really should have known that I had a short sprint to the finish at this point, but I must have been too distracted to make the connection. I turned on the jets way later than I would have preferred and agonizingly saw the clock tick up to 16:20 as I crossed the finish. This agony turned into disappointment as the official results were published with a time of 16:21. Everyone's times were rounded to the nearest second, so I don't know if I could confidently say this was faster than the 16:21.8 of last year. Bummer, but at least I still have something to shoot for this fall.

For the record, my hands are not raised in a gesture of triumph. I wasn't sure

of the proper way to cross the tape. Do I grab it? Run through it? Avoid touching it? (I went with the latter.)

Photo by Jana.

There were nice races by a number of WTAC members, including Tom and Jeff, who were coming off last week's tough race, Mike B,. who cruised to a fast time, and Shara, who dominated the women's race.

Official results are here. Newspaper write-up here.

Here is Seb pondering the best way to break this new toy.

Photo by Katie.

Post-script 1:
The night of the race, my left knee got VERY sore to the touch in a spot that hasn't hurt since 2011. I'd normally not be too worried about this, but this particular injury kept me on the shelf for almost two years the last time it struck, and I'd really like avoid ever having a layoff like that again. So, what did I do the next morning? Went on a 12-mile run with some of the guys, of course. The pace was casual, but the knee hurt every step of the way. I decided about six steps into the run that I'd be taking a week completely off from running...as soon as the run was done.

Post-script 2:
I arranged to go on a long-ish bike ride with Jeff and Mike the morning after the long run to see how cycling affected my knee. If this thing is real, I'd need to find a suitable cross-training alternative. I had a rough night of sleep, complete with chills and sweats, but I wanted to go for the ride anyway. (Are you getting a sense of the dumb decisions I make when it comes to my training?) I actually felt OK on the ride, but got very cold when we stopped for drinks and then again when we got back to my house. The other symptoms - weakness, skin sensitivity, headache, neck pain, fever, chills - started to kick in shortly after the guys left. I should also mention that, two weeks ago, I pulled a tick off my lower abdomen that had been there 2-3 days. How do I know how long it had been there? I'd seen it and stupidly assumed it was a tiny scab of some kind. Once the skin got red and the "scab" started to grow, I came to my senses and removed it. I never developed the characteristic bullseye, but the symptoms combined with a definite tick bite was enough for a doctor to come up with a Lyme diagnosis. I started the antibiotics by noon yesterday but have continued to feel awful (103-degree fever will do that, I guess). So, it looks like this period of rest will be less optional than I'd envisioned. Stupid ticks.

Hope to see you guys out there soon.

Bridge 2 Bridge

Mohonk Mountain House. I have graced the halls as
a sweaty, uninvited guest on many a run.

As life gets busier, my trips back to my childhood home in New Paltz, NY, become less and less frequent. The most disappointing thing about this is that it gives me only a few opportunities a year to run in the trail runner's paradise that is the Shawangunks. Only a couple of miles from my parents' house, the mountains are crisscrossed by over seven-hundred miles of trails. Many are well maintained carriage paths that were originally constructed for guests of the 19th and early 20th century mountain top resorts. (One of these, the Mohonk Mountain House, still operates today and is absolutely stunning.) There are also plenty of single-track options for you real trail runners, but I grew up running on the carriage paths, and I haven't yet found a place better suited to long distance training than these mountains.

For the past two years, I have aligned a visit home with the Bridge 2 Bridge 5-mile trail race, held at the Mohonk Preserve. The course is pretty tame for a mountain trail race; most of it is out and back on a relatively flat and wide carriage path. It's a bit disappointing that the race doesn't take advantage of the variety of trails in the vicinity, but I suppose the point is to incorporate the two wooden bridges that events like this help fund across the preserve. This is a relatively young race -- this was just the third edition -- so it doesn't have the history of some of the other races in the mountains, but it worked for my schedule, and I couldn't pass up the chance to race up in my favorite spot in the world. 

At last year's race, I ran 28:40 for the win. My primary goal this year was to beat that time. As a secondary goal, I arbitrarily decided I wanted to break 28:00, since that's a nice round number and sounds better than trying to break, say, 28:17. I also wanted to defend the title but knew that would depend on who showed up. Two years ago, the winner was a former University of Colorado runner who nearly broke 26:00. I'd never be able to compete with someone like that.

I warmed up with my buddy Mike (of Maine-athlon fame) and his wife Winter and then stopped by my car to drop off my stuff. Whenever I run races back home, I inevitably bump into people I haven't seen in years. I'm typically solid when it comes to remembering names and faces, but I'm not perfect, so I'm usually on guard at these types of events. So, I was surprised when I heard an unfamiliar female voice say, "Chris, is that you?" I turned around and DID NOT HAVE ANY IDEA who this person was. Nevertheless, I put on my friendliest face, and said, "Hey! What are you doing here?" We hugged and chatted like old friends, while I racked my brain to figure out how I knew her. As our small talk continued, I mentioned that I now live in Rhode Island, to which she replied, "Oh really? What did you do with your practice?" Hmm. I was at a decision point. Do I finally admit that I don't know her, after five minutes of pretending I did, or do I make up a story about moving my practice? If the latter seems like a ridiculous option, then you don't know me. I once went an entire flight from Salt Lake City to Boston pretending that I was a Mormon because I misunderstood a question that the guy sitting next to me had asked within the first two minutes of the flight. If I could make up stories about converting to a new religion despite my family's resistance and about mission trips to Central America, then I could easily talk for a few minutes about moving a practice to Rhode Island. But I'm trying to be better about this sort of thing, so I decided to put an end to this nonsense. I stuttered out the most awkward sentence about not having a practice and not knowing who she is, and she even more awkwardly explained that her friend Chris looks like me and has a similar car. I wasn't sure what to do at that point, so I continued talking to her as if we were old friends and the uncomfortable realization that just came light had never actually happened. Maybe I should have stuck with my old ways. It turns out this is much worse.

Anyway, I got to the starting line and didn't see anyone too threatening up near the front. There were a few kids from Mount Academy (a newly formed local high school for the Bruderhof community, with just one sport -- cross country; incredibly, in their two years of existence, they have won the New York State Class D championships twice). The race director, the loquacious local legend, Steve Schallenkamp, did his usual long-winded pre-race spiel, which was quite fortuitous for Mike, as his Garmin didn't acquire satellites until about three seconds before we started. Disaster averted! It doesn't count if it's not on Strava.

I took off at a pretty good clip but actually got passed by one of the high schoolers soon after the start. Maybe I underestimated these guys. I stuck right behind him until maybe 1200 meters into the race and then tried to make an aggressive move to go by and hopefully discourage him from following. I opened up a small gap by the mile (5:40) and continued pushing through the two-mile mark (5:36), as I didn't want any company during the second half. Shortly after starting the third mile, the course turns off the main trail onto a very steep and rocky path. The climb is short (less than a half mile) but absolutely devastating. However, it presents a good opportunity to see how everyone is feeling. I decided to hammer up, which only revealed that I was hurting and told me nothing about anyone else. Still, by the time I reached the bottom of the downhill and turned back onto the main trail, I was all alone (and quite thankful for it).

1.5 miles into the race. High schoolers on my tail and old men in short shorts.

One of the bridges in the race name. Not sure if this is on the way out or back.

At this point, 2nd place was well back, but I still wanted to run a fast time. My third mile was just under 6:00, and I needed a strong final two miles to get under 28:00. Something strange was happening, though. I was going almost as hard as I could, yet my pace was hovering around 5:50. This section is relatively flat or maybe even slightly downhill, yet I couldn't get my pace back down to where it had been before the hill. Not a good sign. My frustrating fourth mile was 5:47.

Approaching mile 4. The smiles are getting tougher to hold for the camera.

Running downhill toward the finish loop. 

The first half of the final mile continues on the flat trail past the starting line before dropping sharply down to a big loop around a field to the finish. The downhill gave me a bit of an energy boost going into the field. The few spectators (roughly half of which were my dad, Seb, and Mike's parents) helped urge me on, and the race director's jokes through the megaphone of, "Who are you running from? Relax. Enjoy yourself," made me smile heading into the finish. But when I saw the clock ticking up towards 28:00, it was time to get serious again. I knew it was going to be close, and I even leaned at the line to lock in a 27:59.9 (5:08 final mile...mostly downhill). Not quite as dramatic as the 1:59.90 800m earlier this year, but still a close call. There was a great awards ceremony afterwards that was made only slightly awkward by the fact that my ex-girlfriend won the women's race. 

Race face is back on as the clock ticks away.

A little lean across the line to clinch the sub-28. This is probably equivalent in prestige to Bannister breaking 4:00.

Trying to keep the reins on Seb and the pink ball he was trying to kick across the pavilion. The award table was full of prizes ranging from yearly Preserve memberships, entries to all local trail races, books by marathon pioneer (and New Paltz resident) Katherine Switzer, and the coveted peach pies made by the Bruderhof community. 

Afterwards, I took to Strava to check out how my 2013 and 2014 races compared over various sections of the course (see table below). It looks like I cut most of the time off during the first two miles (in my attempt to break those kids). A more evenly paced race probably would have produced a faster time. Next year, I'll remember to show a bit more patience in the early going.

Segment	2014 time	2013 time	Difference
Start to Bridge 1	5:50	6:03	-13
Bridge 1 to 2	2:33	2:29	+4
Bridge 2 to turn off	3:12	3:29	-17
Hill loop	3:25	3:31	-6
End of loop to Bridge 2	2:19	2:19	0
Bridge 2 to 1	2:34	2:33	+1
Bridge 1 to start	5:47	5:54	-7
Start to Finish	2:19	2:22	-3

And if you're ever looking for a trail race away from home, there are some good ones up in these mountains. Here's a list of the seven that I know of, with some commentary.

American Zofingen Duathlon - I did the "short course" a few years ago, and it was the toughest race I've ever done in my life. The long course is 3x longer.

Rock the Ridge Endurance Challenge - 50-mile race for individuals or relays; only a few years old; won by Ben Nephew both years I believe.

Summer Solstice 14K - Held at Minnewaska State Park; I've never done this but always wanted to.

Bridge 2 Bridge 5M - You've read more than enough about this already.

Pfalz Point Trail Challenge 10M - Very tough course. I ran it once and really struggled. Would love to do it again.

Survival of the Shawangunks Triathlon - #1 on my bucket list. Bike, run, swim, run, swim, run, swim, run. 30 miles cycling, 2 miles swimming, 17 miles running. Once I get comfortable in the water again, I'm doing this race.

After the Leaves Have Fallen 20K - Another Minnewaska race. I've done it twice and really enjoyed it.

I think I need to start lifting weights. (Probably what Mike is saying to me in this pic.)