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)