Li'l Rhody Runaround

NOTE: This post was ready to go three weeks ago. Three weeks! Yet it took an illness that has relegated me to my bedroom to put the finishing touches on it before the year ends. Muddy can say what he wants, but he at least got his recap done in a timely manner. 

I thought this could be the year. After four consecutive fourth-place finishes from 2012-2014, and then a three-year hiatus, I actually thought I might have a chance to win in my return to Li'l Rhody this year. With no Mike Galoob, no Matthew Walker, no Ryan Woolley, and a possibly mortal Greg Hammett, I figured I could at least be in the mix, and if I played my cards right, take the victory. Of course, this would also mean fending off challenges from the usual cast of characters -- Jonny, Muddy, Brightman, and Tommy -- which would be no small feat on its own.

For my 2014 recap, and proof that I was once creative in my race recaps, go here. I laughed a few times in re-reading it.

The biggest wildcard would be the trail conditions and our ability to handle them. Wet snow and rain in the week leading up to the race made for water-logged trails and slippery bridges and left many of us guessing what footwear to don. After much deliberation (up until 5 minutes to the start -- I brought four different options to the race with me), I settled on my old XC spikes with 1/4" pins. I figured this would make a huge difference on the bridges, wouldn't hurt on the rolling trails of the race's first half, and would be endurable on the roads. I didn't know how they'd do on the rocks and roots of the second half but imagined they'd be at least as good as any other option I had. Time would tell.

I planned to go out at 5:40ish pace, which based on previous years I figured would put me in the top 5 through the campground. This year, though, the peloton's pace was fairly conservative in the opening mile, and I wound up trailing just Greg after a half-mile. I even pulled ahead before taking the trail toward the campground. I led Greg past the playground and through the campground roads until I embarrassingly realized I didn't know where I was going. I took a fairly indirect line, admitted to Greg I needed help, and then got back on track when he went by. I ran through the leaves and branches on the side of the campground road to avoid the spikes-on-pavement awkwardness, but this was almost equally awkward.

Finding my position in the early going. The Hammetts are in the lead in their customary tight tights. (Pics grabbed from Seth's video.)

Greg had a couple of seconds on me at the Vin Gormley trail entrance. [NOTE: I somehow still don't actually know any of the Burlingame trail names, and there are NO maps on the internet that I could find, so forgive this total guess at the trail name.] This was fine by me, as I always prefer being the chaser, especially when the person I'm chasing is the better runner. When the roles are reversed, I spend far too much mental energy thinking and worrying, and I was reminded of that for the brief stretch I'd led earlier in the race. Besides, this is a long race, and Greg has had a dominant history here, so I needed to exercise patience/minimize stupidity as much as possible.

We were fairly well clear of the rest of the pack by the time we'd reached the bridge section. It was here, though, where I made my biggest blunder of the day. I had worn the spikes specifically for these bridges, and they worked magically. But I reaped no reward, as I was stuck behind Greg and his slip-sliding shoes. To pass, I would have needed to run through the rocky muckiness on the slide of the bridges or hope Greg would slip off like he'd hit a banana peel on the Banshee Boardwalk. I didn't really hope for this and even grabbed on to his arm once to help out when it looked like he was headed for the pits. I really regretted not sprinting ahead before the bridges and opening up a lead. It was earlier in the race than I would have liked to go to the front, but it was still a huge missed opportunity.

Watch out for those peels, Greg!

Regretting my indecision before the bridge section. (Pics from Matthew's video.)

Despite my strategic gaffe, I was still running comfortably and biding my time until I felt confident I could make a bold move. Greg seemed just fine as well, so I continued to be content to follow.
Just before the water stop and short Buckeye Brook road section, Greg took his hat off and then tossed it to his parents at the side of the road. This brought back memories of a mild-mannered girl on the Williams XC team while I was there. She was one of the quietest, most polite people I knew, but was a fearless racer who was known to emphatically toss her gloves just before making a move in big cross country races. (She was an 11-time All-American, too, so her boldness was not unrewarded.) I started worrying that Greg’s intentions were the same, and he soon proved me right, quickly accelerating on the road and opening a gap that grew throughout that entire stretch. I had no illusions of matching his pace, but I also discovered just how poorly the spikes were handling the pavement. I was grateful to re-enter the woods, where I would try to chip away at the lead.

Shortly after Greg's big move, and already looking back. (Pic from Seth's video.)

There was still a lot of race left, so I tried to be patient and not work too hard on the tricky rock sections. My goal was to reel him back in by the road and then hope I had enough of a kick to pass him before the finish. I occasionally marked the time Greg passed some landmark on the trail and then counted the seconds until I reached the same. At one point, his advantage had been cut from 12 seconds to 8. I was moving in the right direction. But then the next check-in was 12 again, and the one after that 15. I lost track of him eventually and started worrying more about the runners behind me. I was disappointed in my mental weakness, but it was based at least somewhat in reality. My legs just didn’t have what I needed today. What’s worse, my spikes were far worse than I’d imagined they’d be on the rocks and tough footing in the second half of the race. Instead of gripping the rocks, they slid right off them. I recalled how so many boulders in the mountains are covered in scratch marks from winter hikers in crampons. Why didn't I think of this before? I was getting what I deserved.

Learning that spikes and rocks don't mix. (Pics from Matthew's video.)

When I finally reached Kings Factory, I could still see Greg up ahead, but with an insurmountable lead. There wasn’t much of a shoulder available, so I clicked away down the pavement. I got a little bit of speed back but didn’t even make a dent in Greg’s gap. I got the usual hand-slap from Mikey at the park entrance and a nice shout from Schonning as I made the final left to the finish. The final time was 48:39 -- 25 seconds behind Greg. I have no idea if this was a good time. It’s far slower than the last time I raced here (47:01), but the conditions were as non-ideal as they were ideal that day four years ago. How much time did the puddles, streams, and slippery bridges add? How about the spikes? Speaking of the spikes, as frustrating as they were, there is no chance I would have gotten the better of Greg in different footwear. After all, he had to run through all the same muck and probably slipped in places that I didn’t. He straight up ran the better race and deserved the win regardless of our respective shoe choices. I was really impressed with his go-for-broke move midway through the race, especially given the worries he expressed in his post-race Strava commentary. That's how to race like a champ. Maybe I'll someday learn to do the same.

It is said the most efficient foot plant location is directly beneath the torso. Oops. (Pic and caption from Seth's video.)

Many thanks to WTAC and race director Jeff Walker for a fabulous race, and to Seth Acton and Matthew Walker for their awesome videography!

Final Note: I put together a little summary table of splits throughout the race for the top runners but left it at work (yes, it was handwritten). Maybe I'll someday update this post with those stats. Maybe.

Results

New Paltz Turkey Trot

Brrrr. That's really all you need to know. Just, brrrr.

Thanksgiving was COLD this year; here's how I figured that out before the New Paltz Turkey Trot had begun:

• After spending three minutes outside picking up my race number, I was unable to send a text because I was shivering too violently. 
• The only exposed skin (outside of my face) during the warm-up was on my ankles, and it felt as if it had been lit on fire. A very cold fire.
• I lost all feeling in my left foot and in three toes of my right foot.

Generally speaking, the weather wasn't all that oppressive. Sure, 15 degrees is not warm, but I've raced in colder temps. Maybe it was the suddenness of the temperature drop, or the accompanying wind that made this feel so much worse than it should have. It was bad enough that 300 of the 1100 people who'd registered for this race didn't even bother showing up despite shelling out $25. But I don't believe in sunk costs, and I'm also not easily deterred from a chance to race in my hometown, so into the cold I not-so-bravely went.

I met Mike and Winter to attempt to warm up on 'Historic' Huguenot Street. (As a New Paltz native, I am contractually obligated to use the 'Historic' moniker.) It didn't work, as noted above, but I did enjoy causing Mike's anxiety to ratchet up a few notches as we returned with scant few minutes remaining before the start. I quickly changed into my racing flats, which are of the Nike Flyknit design, allowing for maximal circulation of frigid air to my toes. 

At the start, I bumped into an old teammate who was wearing shorts and no gloves or hat. My bare ankles burned this time with embarrassment. I also learned of some fast younger locals who'd been spotted warming up (by "learned," I mean Mike's parents told me that I was going to lose to them). This race also attracts some wild cards, including this 1:02 half-marathoner two years ago, so I didn't know what to expect from the competition and would have to be agile with my strategy as the race developed.

Just as we were about to start, the first few rows of runners were informed (via an old-fashioned megaphone, like the kind you might have seen in a political rally in the 1880s) that due to snow on the rail trail, we'd be doing an out-and-back on the road instead of the USATF-certified 5K loop. I recalled that the last time I'd done this race, back in 2014, we were forced into the out-and-back route, as well, which turned out to be slightly longer than a 5K. I'd hoped that the more professional race organization this year would yield a better turnaround point. Time would tell...

At the whistle, a few younger guys shot out quickly (I'm pretty sure I write that in 90% of these posts), and I wound up in 5th or 6th for the first quarter mile. Shortly after the start is the only hill in the race, a short rise of 35 feet that gently encourages you to reconsider your opening pace. By the top of the hill, I was in second, and within another 50 yards, I was in the lead, but with company. I looked to the right and saw a guy I recognized as a great local high school and collegiate runner, who'd run a 30:20 10K on the track last spring. (He and his brother and their teammates were responsible for taking nearly every individual and relay school record I was part of in high school.) I introduced myself, and, after he complimented me for being in shape, I made a disparaging comment about it only being a half-mile into the race and likely not lasting much longer. He took the hint and got a few steps on me. I happily got into his wind shadow and stayed there for a few minutes. 

I felt the pace slacken a little, and I decided to take the lead for a bit. But as I moved up, I noticed the sound of his footsteps fade just a little, as we reached the mile in 5:19 (5 seconds faster than 2014). I pressed the pace, and the footsteps receded farther into the distance. Around this time, a couple of old teammates were unexpectedly positioned on the side of the road, and this put a smile on my face and jolted me onward. I was feeling good and seemingly increasing the lead continuously. Up ahead, I saw the cone in the middle of the road's terminal circle. It appeared that this would be another 5+ kilometer race, and my watch's 1.62-mile reading at the cone confirmed it. 

Interestingly, there was not a volunteer at the cone. I didn't think much of it at the time (other than that I was surprised they trusted us so much and hoped I had turned in the right place). In retrospect, this was a huge organizational gaffe that caused a great deal of havoc a short time later, but we'll get to that.

On the way back, I saw I had maybe 15 seconds on 2nd place, and then a big gap to 3rd and 4th. I got some hand slaps from Mike and a couple of other high school teammates, which was where the fun part of the out-and-back ended. I soon ran into a wall of people of all ages, shapes, and sizes filling the road and coming directly at me without any idea I was headed their way. I'd been running the whole race on the left side of the road, but that was no longer going to work. I tried the right side to no avail. The middle was equally full. I finally opted for the flexible/spastic approach: darting left and right as needed to avoid head-on collisions. This was more frustrating than I could have ever imagined. I lost all sense of pace and rhythm and longed for the open road. It wasn't until I was within 3/4-mile of the finish that the crowd thinned, and I had free reign of the road. Oh, what a relief that was. I'd missed my watch's 2-mile beep but later saw the split was 5:17 (2 more seconds gained on 2014). 

By this point, I was tired and cold and not feeling all that peppy. The mile-three split was 5:15 (vs. 5:11 in 2014). I cruised back down the hill we'd come up earlier, around the final bend, and into the finish to the rapturous applause of the 5 or 6 people brave enough to stand in the cold to watch. My final time was 16:56, which was EXACTLY the same as my time from four years prior. I'm a little disappointed not to set my 3.2-mile PR (ha ha), but I was in pretty good shape in 2014, having just run 47:01 at Li'l Rhody and just about to run fast at Old Mountain, so I can't be too disappointed. 2nd place was roughly a minute back, and Mike, in a solid 5th, another minute behind that.

I do, however, wish the race organizers had had the foresight to either direct runners to run on one side of the street or the other, or to have had a lead vehicle that could have cleared the way. It also would have helped to announce to the entire field that the course would be an out-and-back. I can't blame any of the other runners for doing what they did; there's no way they should have expected to deal with oncoming runners. (I was surprised to learn from Mike, though, that they hadn't gotten the clue by the time he came through, so perhaps they're not totally blameless.)

In any case, I really enjoyed the race despite the human obstacles and frigid temperatures, and even got a cool hand-made pottery gravy boat that was immediately employed for our Thanksgiving dinner that night. All things considered, it was a nice way to start the holiday. 

Pfalz Point Trail Challenge

For nine years, I've been penciling the Pfalz Point Trail Challenge into my race calendar, and for nine years, I've been crossing it off. The reasons varied (injuries, travel, distance, conflicts), but they showed up consistently every September. So, when I once again blocked the last Sunday in September this year, I did so fully expecting to delete the calendar entry at some point in the months leading up to the race.  And I was nearly right! My quad started bothering me 10 days before the race, and a hilly, long trail race didn't seem like a wise idea. I held off signing up until 2 days before, when I decided I'd give it a go. The day before, I loaded the car with my things and 2/3 of my children, and headed off to my parents' house in New Paltz. 

Let's fast-forward to race day and a slightly different blog format. I'll use the photos (my own and those of the race photographers -- who posted 1500 photos for free online!) from throughout the race to take you through the event.

It was a beautiful and crisp morning, with temps in the 40s, rising into the 50s by race time. I found after pulling into the grass parking area that the week's rain hadn't managed to get very far below the surface. The turf was saturated, and so was my left shoe after stepping out of the car. I was quite early, so I took a jaunt over to the so-called "Million Dollar View," an expansive vista toward the Catskills, which, on this day, were hovering above a valley of fog. 

The view was somewhat spoiled by an awful odor, which upon inspection was revealed to originate in my right armpit. This is highly unusual for me, but it seemed fitting, and here's why: As a young runner, I would get dragged along on summer evening excursions in these very mountains with a combination of high school teammates and grizzled local veteran runners (who, I now realize, were probably my current age). They were, without exception, fragrant in a way that only runners can be. 

I had never experienced anything quite like that first whiff, and it never got any better. Yet, there I was, 20+ years later, emanating my own brand of the mountain runner's perfume. It made me smile a little...and then scrub with whatever dew I could swipe from the morning grass.

 There weren't many familiar faces in the starting area. I'd bumped into a high school teammate during my warm-up and spotted the Vassar coach, whom I know by name but hadn't formally met. Otherwise, the field was a mystery. My A goal for the day would be a sub-65 performance, while my B goal was to beat my 2009 time of 66:50(?). 

The race starts in probably the soggiest three miles anywhere in the 100+ miles of Mohonk Preserve trails. This was unfortunate, as it meant we'd be running in wet, heavy shoes for the entirety of the race. I'd already decided to wear my heavy Hokas and ankle braces, and this would just add to the burden. These three miles alternate between open grass fields and very technical single track. 

The pace was moderate, and I bounced between first and third place before settling into second as we approached the hill that had killed me nine years ago. This 400' climb over a 1/2 mile beat me up the last time I'd raced it. I'd told myself ever since then that the race doesn't start until that hill is summitted. I followed my advice and didn't make a move until hitting the carriage road at the top.

Over the next mile, after a flat section, the course gradually climbs another few hundred feet. I edged onto the shoulder of the Vassar coach, who'd been leading to that point, but he sensed my move and accelerated as well. We ran astride until a few hundred yards up the hill, when I edged ahead. The third part of our triumvirate, an unknown runner in a NYAC uniform, came right with me and eventually passed me midway up the hill.  

I stuck close behind him and passed him back when I sensed a lag in the pace. As we reached the golf course, I was in the lead but hadn't shaken him. I still felt good at this point (less than halfway through the race) but I worried that he hadn't yet shown any signs of weakness. Would he make another move? Would he break?







We wound our way through the course, and I got progressively less confident in my ability to drop him. We faced another big climb up to the 5-mile mark, and then we'd descend for nearly the entirety of the race. Downhills have never been my forte, and trying to win a race down a 5-mile hill would require a genuine miracle. As if sensing my uneasiness, he flew past me just as we started the ascent. I stayed on him all the way to the top, when, as expected, he shot out of a cannon and left me in his wake. Seriously. He was 10 seconds ahead within a minute. If the remainder of his downhill running was as good as he'd just demonstrated, I'd be lucky to finish within 5 minutes of him.

There was a water stop at the intersection near the bottom of the first downhill, and, as I could no longer see him, it gave me a chance to gauge how far ahead he was by the gap in the cheers for each of us. It seemed to me he was 15-20 seconds up at this point, but we still had four miles to go, and I was feeling fine. We turned onto a long, flat trail, where I could still see him on certain very straight stretches. I sensed I was holding steady here, but I'd need to start chipping away soon if I wanted to have a chance. Not taking anything for granted, I also peeked back a few times to make sure I was safely in second (I was). 

Turning off the flat path, we descended sharply into a meadow path with views toward Bonticou Crag. This is where my very first XC practices were held as a high school freshman. I fondly remembered my coach (also a rookie) teaching me to run downhill with wildly helicoptering arms. I thought I might try that on the next descent, as my technique couldn't get any worse at it than I had been to that point. After another sharp drop, the course climbs up a steep, long single-track that feels a million times worse than it should, since I'd gotten so accustomed to running downhill over the previous two miles. I really struggled on this hill and started to accept that first place was out of grasp.

After cresting this hill, it's all downhill to the finish, over the final two miles. About 400 meters into this final descent, I started sensing a slight pulling sensation in one hamstring and then the other. I was on the verge of major leg cramps and didn't know what to do about it. I hit the brakes and quite literally began jogging to try to let the muscles calm down a bit. I was in self-preservation mode at this point. A full-on hamstring cramp could end my race and would, at the very least, cost me a spot or two. I couldn't let that happen, so on I jogged. I eventually began to accelerate, but only gradually, as anything more sudden would have surely caused the legs to cramp again. 

I got into a comfortable rhythm that was more tempo pace than race pace, but it would have to do. I frequently looked back to make sure I was safe, and fortunately I was. I'm not sure what I would've done had I been forced to defend my position. This was a sad way to end the race, and I was becoming increasingly aware that I might not even beat my time from '09.

I saw the finish clock tick over 1:06 as I crossed. I was far behind my 1:05 goal and not far enough ahead of my '09 goal to be totally satisfied. I like to think I had another minute in me without the cramping, but the cramps were part of the race, and if I want to be successful in an event like this, I need to figure out a way to avoid them. Higher mileage would help, but I'm afraid that just isn't possible. Maybe I need to stick with shorter races.

Afterward, I enjoyed seeing just how muddy I'd gotten over those first few miles, and was impressed that most of it had stuck with me through the race. The Hokas weren't the most race-friendly shoe, but I wore them to help cope with pounding of the downhills, and from that perspective, they acquitted themselves quite nicely. And, as always, the ankle braces saved me once or twice from disaster. I have an intense love-hate relationship with those things.

The highlight of the day, of course, is the pie-covered awards table, from which I took a delicious apple pie donated by the local Bruderhof community. I also helped myself to two servings of the amazing chili supplied by The Bistro, one of my favorite local restaurants.

Through internet research (Note: NOT stalking), I later learned that the winner was a 9:03 steepler from Tufts. I suddenly felt less bad about losing to him by 1:45.

In the end, I'm glad I finally returned to this race, happy with the course PR, but now hungrier than ever to finally conquer it. I just hope it doesn't take another nine years to get back out there.

Williams XC Alumni Race

I was going to start this post with some comment on heading back to the Purple Valley of western Massachusetts to relive my collegiate running glory days. But, looking back 15+ years, there really wasn't much glory, or at least not as much as I dreamed of when starting my freshman year in the fall of '99. Back then, the possibilities were seemingly limitless. I was joining a successful Division III program with countless stories of mediocre high school runners becoming stars under our coach's tutelage, and naturally I thought I'd be next in line. In reality, I was perhaps a bit too mediocre and a bit too injury prone to become more than a back-end varsity cross country runner. In other sports, I'd have been called a role player or a journeyman; in XC, I was a 4-5-6 guy (i.e., 4th, 5th, or 6th scoring position on the team).

But while my dreams came crashing down to earth, I nonetheless developed a strong bond to the Williams XC program (at least in part because it's how I met my wife!), and I've since made the trek back to Williamstown for the alumni race ("Aluminum Bowl") as often as possible. This year would be my first time running the race since 2014, and I was pumped to get back out on the course. The course itself has gone through several reinventions since my time there, changing out of necessity as the local high school (where it's hosted) has modified first its playing fields and now its footprint. Despite some changes to the flow and layout, the wooded, hilly trails have remained the same, making it a classic and challenging XC course.

This year, the alumni race would be the only event of the day, making for a nice, low-key atmosphere with a focus on team and camaraderie across graduating classes. There were 50+ alums in attendance, though only a few from my era. We prepped with the requisite pre-race bear toss (Note: you can read about this odd tradition here) and then slotted into our starting spot on the line. The area we'd been assigned was quite narrow, so I got into the third row next to my other "old man" teammates and waited for the start. All of the current team's runners were also on the line, with most planning to do a workout on the course while the rest of us raced. The team is quite large (nearly 70 runners between the men and women), so there was the possibility of some chaos over the opening meters.

Pre-race photo of Williams XC alums in attendance.

Off the line, I got into the slipstream of my former teammate and captain, Dusty Lopez, now the assistant coach with the team (and host to my family during our weekend in town). Dusty was an outstanding runner at Williams and is always in good shape, so I figured I could do worse than stick with him during the race. We picked our way through the mass of runners that converged on the path around the playing fields to start the first mile. A few minutes in, he turned to me and said something to effect that I am the only person he wouldn't mind losing to. I took this as permission to pass and got ahead of him, hoping he'd hang with me and pick off a few more people together, something I was never fast enough to do with him while we were in school.

Opening sprint off the line. If you look really close, you can see a tiny bit of red from my hat above Dusty's head on the far left of the image.

The course heads up a hill and into the woods at ~0.75 miles, and this is where I needed to focus. I had decided to forgo my ankle braces because the trails are mostly well groomed, but a few rogue roots were waiting ahead to wreck my day should a misplaced footfall hit one. I had to slow some on the downhills out of necessity but otherwise was able to run fairly normally in this section.
At the mile mark (~5:30), I was in around 8th place. There were no studs in the race as there had been in years past, when the winners would run in the low-15s on this challenging course, so I could still see the big pack of leaders maybe 10 seconds ahead. The second mile contains the toughest terrain, though it starts modestly, continuing on the rolling trail that spits us out next to the high school's grass (!) track. It then re-enters the woods where the real fun begins. There is first a relatively short but steep hill, followed by a steeper downhill, then a gradual build to the crux of the course, a long (0.3 mile) hill that is revealed only after a nearly hairpin turn, and even then the top doesn't come into view until you've falsely summitted two other times. Finally, there's one last (very) steep downhill that gives back all of the elevation just gained and marks the end of the trail portion of the race. Through all of these undulations, I passed just two people but managed to hold my position and put some distance on those behind me.

The third mile is entirely on grass, crossing fields, the track, and some small rises, culminating in a variety of loops around and between the soccer and baseball fields where the race started. I was closing in on fifth place, a tall, younger runner, during the first part of this section. As I passed my coach, he yelled "Way to be in shape, Garvin!" which was surprisingly motivating. I used the surge of positivity to pass the young guy but couldn't shake him. A few hundred meters later, he passed me back and looked poised to hang on. I had no idea where the finish would be in this version of the course, and when I saw that we still had another turn and then a long straightaway, I decided it wasn't too late to reclaim 5th. I pretended to be running an all-out 200 on the track, and that little mental trick worked like a charm. I passed the guy back 50 meters before the line and held on for 5th overall, 3rd alumnus, in 17:05 (final mile 5:06). I later learned that the guy I passed was the 5K school record holder (14:17!) from the class of 2015 who clearly has not been training as seriously. Still, that was a bit of a confidence boost.

A younger version of me running on our home course in 2002. 

Afterward, my coach asked me to help him organize a kids' race, which consisted of my kids, Dusty's kids, and my classmate Tim's kids, as the other alumni in attendance were too young to have reached this phase of life. The kids mostly had a great time, though Maisie broke into tears midway when she realized that she wouldn't win. That's the competitive spirit I like to see in a four-year-old.

A few days after the race, I came across an article on my college coach, who's celebrating his 40th year at the helm of the program. There were two passages in particular I liked that really capture the spirit of love for running that he instills in the team:

"Pete has a true love for the sport, and that spirit is the foundation of our team's approach to running. In the midst of NCAA championships, technical workouts and complex training philosophy, GPS watches and heart rate monitors, Pete helps us remember that we run because we love to run. We love trails, we love working hard and we love our team." 

Farwell's end goal isn't to see his athletes compete well now, but rather to see them running and enjoying running years later. "The goal is for you to be running when you're 30, 40 or 60 rather than to run two seconds faster in the 5k when you are 21," 

Bottone Mile / Wahaneeta 5K

I'm at risk of falling four races behind in these recaps, so let's be efficient about it and combine the two most delinquent posts in a single entry.

The first of these was the Bottone Mile, which, after 20+ years on the track, was recast as a road mile this year. The reason for the change was about numbers (the new venue seemed to do the trick), but I was personally glad for the change because a road mile has less anxiety attached to it. When you step on the track, you become a slave to the watch. Splits are calculated in advance, and you measure yourself against them every 200 meters, allowing you to know the exact moment you fail to meet your expectations. There's also some inherent pressure that I associate with the track, probably due to the nerves I felt across hundreds of track races between 7th grade and the end of college. The novelty of a road mile meant minimal expectations and, importantly, no old version of myself to be compared to.

Still, a mile is a mile, and I had some butterflies as I drove down from work. (The mile was really my second race of the day, as I got out of a meeting late at work and had to drive a little faster than the police would prefer to get to Westerly.) I arrived in time for a short warm-up with some faster accelerations thrown in, met up with Tommy, and got over to the line.

One nice feature of this race was the seeding process, which allowed runners to line up according to our estimated finishing time. I'd somewhat arbitrarily picked 4:50, which placed me 2nd next to Matthew. Jeff smartly inserted another runner (whom Matthew pointed out is a current collegiate athlete and 1:52 high school 800 runner) between, despite his not registering early enough to receive an appropriately low-numbered bib.

Matthew informed me beforehand that he'd be doing this as a workout, targeting 4:40. That was still faster than I expected to go but knew I'd at least be able to get pulled along at that pace. With the sound of the gun (or was it siren? I can't recall), I attempted to find what felt like mile pace, soon realizing that I didn't remember exactly how that should feel. One drawback of not running on the track is that I didn't have a reliable way to check my pace and would have to trust my completely untrustworthy watch. The pace felt fairly easy on the first stretch of road, as I tucked in behind Nick (college guy) and Matthew, but I knew I was still floating on adrenaline.

After making the two quick left-hand turns, I allowed myself a peek at the watch, which revealed the cumulative pace to be 4:37 roughly a quarter-mile into the race. That seemed fast but I was ok, so I decided to do nothing about it and keep on the leaders' tails. At some point along the lengthy Crandall stretch, Nick got some easy separation. I wasn't going to risk a move and instead stuck with Matthew. I glanced at my watch several more times along Crandall and again after we'd turned on Shirley, and each time the pace was 4:37. I started wondering if my watch was broken, as it didn't expect to keep that pace for as long as we had.

It started dawning on me that we were within a quarter-mile of the finish, and I should probably think about some kind of a kick. (Again, not having the simple layout of a track, where completing the penultimate lap of a mile meant an automatic start of a kick, led to some confusion in my tactics.) I passed Matthew, knowing he'd never let that happen in an actual race, and tried in vain to close the gap on Nick. I took the last left turn and came upon what essentially was a wide dirt trail, littered with pot holes and rocks. It isn't a long stretch but took some serious concentration to run through at that pace. I knew I'd lost a little speed and tried to make up for it when I got back to the paved portion of the course. There wasn't much wood left in the furnace, but I fanned the flames and mustered a tiny kick, finishing in...you guessed it: 4:37.

I was thrilled with that time and glad to know I still have some mile-speed left, despite not doing anything remotely close to training for that pace. The race has motivated me to start incorporating some speed work into my regular routine and maybe even jump into a couple track races this winter.

Wahaneeta 5K

I ended the week with a 5K in the woods of Wahaneeta Preserve. It was another sticky summer day, and the course was wet and muddy from rain. I'd only been on these trails once before and really didn't know my way around, so I used the warm-up to explore a couple parts that might have been the beginning, middle, or end (or all three!). Whatever they were, they gave me a sense of the terrain (rolling), footing (rocky and rooty in parts), and obstacles (slippery bridges, stream crossings, and mud). The ol' ankle braces would be a must-wear on this course.

With Matthew in attendance, I knew I'd be racing for second. (It surprised me to see from his blog that he still considers me a threat. I wish that were the case.) I didn't see anyone else who might be near the front, so it looked like this would turn into a solo time trial.

I lined up at the right side of the field, only to discover that the starting line was sharply angled away from the trail we'd be heading toward, making my route quite a bit farther than that of those on the other side. Matthew seemed to notice the same thing and re-positioned himself on the other side. I didn't bother, which gave me an excuse to let Matthew go immediately after the gun sounded. He appeared to go out very fast. So fast, indeed, that my slower pace still felt way too hard after a quarter mile. I made my way up into second place right around then (passing a barefoot dude!), and, as predicted, stayed there for the rest of the race.

As you might imagine, the race was fairly uneventful. I lost sight of Matthew very early (he was 15 seconds ahead after just half a mile, according to the Strava fly-by) but continued to press just in case an opportunity to get back in the race presented itself. I knew one wouldn't, but these are the tricks you play on yourself to keep the feet moving forward. After the first lap, I caught sight of him, already ascending the hill in front of the cabin while I was trodding in the opposite direction, still fifty yards from the 180-degree turn he'd long ago taken. (I had given up only another five seconds in the 1.25 miles since that initial surge Matthew had put in, but it was enough to create an insurmountable gap.)

The second lap was more of the same, with the gap gradually growing to more than 30 seconds. I made my final trip through the main field (nearly heading directly to the finish instead of taking the right turn required to stay on the course), and then set out on the lollipop loop. One part of the lollipop (the stick?) was particularly mucky, and I thought about what I would do if my shoe got sucked off in it. (The answer: stop and put my shoe back on!) I eventually came face to face with Matthew on his way back from the turnaround. Given that I hadn't even reached the pop part of the sucker when we passed each other, I realized I was farther behind than I'd thought. As I trudged back up toward the finish, I reached the muck again and discovered...a shoe! It was Matthew's XC spike, and it had been snatched from his foot just as I'd envisioned might happen to mine. I couldn't just leave it there, so I bent down as I ran by and picked it up like a ball boy to a tennis ball at the US Open, running the rest of the way to the finish with an extra shoe in hand. This got a few laughs from those who saw Matthew already finish minus one shoe and restored balance to the finish area shoe count.

I have to admit, I was pretty disappointed with my race. I didn't have much fight in me and struggled to stay motivated out there. And like Matthew, I also would have liked to see more of the top local runners come to this race. Maybe next year...

Pre-race picture 1 from Westerly Sun

Pre-race picture 2. They thought I was a different guy.

Run4Kerri

Run4Kerri is a relatively high-profile local race that attracts some fast runners from RI and surrounding states. I’d previously done it in 2013 and 2014, opted for the Block Island Tri instead in 2015, was in California for ’16 and ’17 and injured in ’18. In other words, I hadn’t done this one in four years and was excited to give it another shot. Given how well my other four-mile road race had gone this summer, I was assuming this relatively easy course would be a sure-fire way to get a PR at the distance and maybe even a chance to dip under 21 minutes. Based on my previous two attempts, this seemed like a near-certainty – check out the table:

Year	Bridgton 4 on the 4th	Run4Kerri	Difference
2013	23:13	21:56	-77s
2014	21:53	21:40	-13s
2018	21:18	??	??

As the race drew nearer, two things threatened get in the way of a strong performance: health and weather. A week before the race, after finishing a dreadful track workout, my right knee seized up to the point that I had to stop my cool down and walk for a bit. I took three days off, then ran with a patellar tendon strap at Wednesday’s Fun Run, which seemed to help. However, I didn’t want to race in that strap, so on Friday I ran easy without it and had almost no pain. While the knee was improving, my digestive tract was worsening. I won’t go into detail, but it was a tough few days and the issues had just started to abate before race day.

As for the second threat, the weather has been unrelentingly humid in recent weeks, and while the moisture level had dropped the tiniest bit on Sunday, the heat would be rising back toward 90 degrees. Of course, with the race at 9 AM, we wouldn’t face the worst of it, but we would have to contend with less than ideal conditions in full sun.

I was joined at the race by Katie for the second time this summer. It’s painful to have to get a babysitter just so we could both race, but that’s life these days. We did an easy warm-up out on the first part of the course, sticking to the shade where possible. My stomach was off but the legs were feeling quite good, so I was optimistic about the race.

Start line WTAC photo by Jana.

I bumped into Matthew on the line, and he commented on how many fast people were in the race and that his top-5 goal was likely not going to happen. I said something about how the heat can do funny things to people, so you know never know. Before too long, we were off, up the short hill at the start and stringing out quickly. As is my habit, I counted the runners in front of me as soon as I had a clear shot (maybe a ¼ mile in); I was in 11^th at this point, behind eight guys and two women. I gradually passed a few people and settled into 8^th place at the mile, with Matthew directly in front of me by 10 or so seconds, and someone shadowing me a few steps behind. (First mile was 5:12.)

That someone, in a red jersey, passed me shortly after we turned onto Moonstone Beach Road (just after Beth's encouraging cheers -- thanks, Beth!), and I did my best to stay within a few strides. My legs had felt great up to this point but were now really starting to feel the effort. I wasn’t expecting this to happen so early and I worried about the rest of the race. For now, I just tried to keep the pace even and the effort smooth, though that was getting progressively harder to do.

Ahead, I saw Matthew overtake one runner who quickly came back to us. I eased ahead of my red-jerseyed friend at the same time but figured he’d hang with me for a while, as he wasn’t showing any signs of struggle. We also appeared to be closing in on the Colonel himself, who’d gone for the Mile 1 bonus and was no longer feeling his oats. Turning into the neighborhood, my friend and I passed Col. Sanders, and I attempted to surge up the small incline before the steep one that marks the end of the third mile.

I had closed a bit on Matthew by this point but wasn’t feeling that a spirited chase was in the cards today. He looked back around one corner and must have been relieved to see it was me and not one of the speedy guys behind us who were either having off days or not racing seriously. On several occasions, I forced myself to get into a more aggressive posture, as I’d kept falling into the backward-leaning death march pose that lets even the casual observer pick out the faltering runner from the fresh one.

I look like I'm in disguise in those ridiculous sunglasses.

I pounded the downhill past the fire house (as in slapped my feet on the pavement in a most inefficient manner), confident now that I would neither catch nor be caught before the finish, and didn’t bother attempting to kick, as it wouldn’t have done anything other than scare the children watching the finish. I sadly watched the clock tick up toward that PR time, crossing in 21:15 (21:13 net time, since I started in the third row), tying exactly my PR from two years ago. There was little solace in that, however, since the PR was set on a much harder course in probably worse weather conditions. I simply didn’t have it this day.

On the bright side, I’d finished sixth, one place behind Matthew. It was cool to have two WTAC jerseys up near the front of this big race. In order to preserve Matthew’s amateur status, the race organizers donated his 5^th-place prize money to me. (Isn’t it funny that he can’t accept a measly $50, yet big-time college athletes in big-time college sports can be wined and dined (and more, often) by the schools and their boosters? Something just isn’t right about that. Let the kid buy a text book.) Katie nabbed 2^nd in her age group, despite feeling pretty awful and not having started training in earnest yet. She’ll be back to her old self soon enough.

The most positive part of the race was that my knee was totally fine, as if there had never been any pain in the first place. I love these kinds of injuries, though they continue to baffle me. On the downside, sub-21 will have to wait for another year. Now it’s time for some fun local races and maybe a shot at a fast 5K in Providence next month.

A brief look at the data:

Looking at the mile-by-mile breakdown, this year was consistently faster than the past two for the first ¾ of the race. In 2014, however, I had a big finishing burst, which, as described above, wasn’t available to me this time, and that’s pretty obvious from the chart below.

Looking at the raw paces, it seems that I consistently slow over miles 2 and 3 before speeding up again for the final mile. But this is at least partly due to the terrain. Fortunately, Strava has provided us with GAP. I still don’t know if I trust GAP, but it’s better at normalizing pace across elevation changes than anything I’ve come up with, so let’s go with it. When viewed this way, a different story emerges. Specifically, I ran remarkably even splits this year when adjusted for gradient. It came at a cost (it would have been interesting to see a heart rate overlay on top of this), but that makes me feel a little better about how the race played out. 

Vacation Trifecta

Race #1: Four on the Fourth - 7/4/18

Before embarking on our two-week family vacation, I was careful to remember to pack my racing flats, as the trip would include two races where they’d be required. Upon arriving at the first of those – the Bridgton 4 on the Fourth (or Four on the 4^th… I never get it right) – I made the startling discovery that the flats were sans insoles. I grabbed the only other pair of shoes I had with me, the giant trail running Hokas, slammed their insoles into the flats, and hoped for the best. Not an ideal start to the morning, but it wouldn’t be a race day without some minor crisis to overcome.

Katie and I had made the trek to the race together and would both be racing for the first time in several years. The forecast called for a HOT day (this would be one of a string of 90+ degree days in New England that week), and despite the early hour, it was already feeling steamy. I like the heat, and I feel it offers a competitive advantage, given many other runners’ either mental or physical aversion to it, so I wasn’t too worried, though I was unsure how it would affect my pace.

Speaking of pace, in trying to decide my race goals, I needed to come up with a reasonable pace to shoot for. I'd improved my time in this race each of the previous 5 times I'd run it (2012-2016), and everyone loves a streak, so I decided to try to keep it alive. However, I'd run fairly quickly the last time around (21:12), and it would be a tall order to take that down another few seconds. My other goal was to keep the shorter streak alive of finishing top-5 (3 straights years -- 5th, 5th, 4th), which would mean a prize of some sort. 

I got to the starting line and appreciated the organizers’ efforts this year to create corrals based on previous finishing times, which helped avoid the usual set of interlopers making themselves an obstacle in the 2000+ person field.

The big field assembles at the start.

The first mile is mostly flat and downhill, and I’d planned to go through in under 5:15. A bunch of guys went out with the leaders, and I was around 10^th after the first half mile. I was surprised not to see the leaders create much of a gap in the first mile; I’d usually find myself already behind by 20-30 seconds by that point in past years. I passed the mile in 5:16 and braced myself for the series of hills over the next 1.5 miles.

I moved into 5^th place during the first set of hills, ahead of past race winner and perennial top finisher Silas Eastman. Up ahead, I saw the three leaders continue to do battle. The hills were taking their toll on everyone, myself included, but I kept reminding myself that I should feel stronger in the heat than the rest. I went through mile 2 in 5:31 and moved into fourth place somewhere around there.

Ahead, one guy had pulled away. Unsurprisingly, it was multi-time winner Moninda Marube. In his wake, the other two had strung out. I managed to catch the third place runner fairly quickly but held no illusions of gaining on second, a fit-looking guy -- Osman Doroow -- who still looked smooth. The race hits its elevation peak in Mile 3 and then descends steeply back toward the finish. It’s so hard to stay smooth on these declines, and I tried to focus on soft landings, quick turnover, and leaning into the downs. I got through Mile 3 in 5:23 and suddenly realized I’d been gaining on 2^nd place while focusing on my downhill form.

I was exhausted coming into the final stretch along Main St. but wanted to get that one extra spot in the standings. I surged by Doroow only to have him surge right back. It was almost enough of a counter move to do me in, but I decided to test him and surge again, now with 600m or so to go. He didn’t respond the second time, and I sensed a gap growing. I was able to maintain it through the line (final mile 5:05; overall time 21:18) for my best-ever placing in my six tries at this race. The time, however, missed my PR from two years ago by six seconds, so that streak was finally broken.

A few feet from the finish. 

Side Note 1: There was a funny scenario that played out in front of me as I ran toward the finish. The ladies holding the finish tape (which had already been broken by the winner), mustn’t have had much experience with their duties, as they set the tape back up for me. There were more than a few moments of uncertainty before someone got them to scoot to the side, just as I crossed. Not sure what I would’ve done had they stayed. You can watch the whole thing near the start of this video.

Side Note 2: I like to think I'm a good sportsman, but I might have taken it too far, as you can see in the video below (between 12:30 and 13:30). I just can't seem to stop showing up to congratulate the other finishers. 

I was very happy with the race, despite just missing my PR from two years ago, and hopeful this sets me up for a PR at R4K in a month.

Top 4 men and 3 1/2 women with the race director.

Chatting with the winner post-race.

Full results here.

Race #2: Patterson’s Pellet - 7/9/18

My hometown running club – the Shawangunk Runners – puts on a great set of low-key trail races every summer. Having not lived in New Paltz since 2003, and having not visited on a summer Monday in the interim, it had been a long time since I’d last done one of these races. Our vacation this year fortunately overlapped with the first of the summer series races – Patterson’s Pellet – held at Minnewaska State Park, and I was really excited to go.

I know the trails here well, but not this particular one, as it leads to a remote part of the preserve, past a glacial erratic perched on the edge of a cliff. (The rock is known as, you guessed it, Patterson’s Pellet). The only time I could recall running that trail was the one other time I’d done this race, back in 2000 (before sophomore year of college), which I was startled to realize was 18 years ago. My goodness.

In my heart of hearts, I know that I’m nowhere near as fast as I once was, but a little part of me wanted to think I could come close. There’d be no better measuring stick than this race – how far off my time of 16 years ago would I be? (After consulting an old training log, I discovered my time back then had been 16:21 for the 3-mile course.)

A page from my 2000 training log (this race was on Wednesday). Here's proof that I was once able to run 66 miles in a week. Also note that I said "could have gone faster" in reference to this race. Come on, you young arrogant jerk! Incidentally, I vividly remember that Monday run, in which I got lost on a narrow trail that ran along the edge of a cliff, eventually getting stuck behind a slow-going porcupine, just as it was turning dark. 

The race started on a narrow carriage road, where runners could fit no more than four across. I got into the third row behind a bunch of really fit looking high schoolers from Warwick, Goshen, and Lourdes, three somewhat local schools. The race starts out on a short flat, down a steep hill, and then immediately up a long slog of a climb. I was impressed that the high school kids didn’t totally sprint out as they are usually programmed to do, but I was still just in ninth place after ¾ of a mile. One slightly older guy (not older than me, mind you, but older than the rest) opened a gap with a big loping stride that looked easier than it should have on the hills. I sensed some slack in the pace of the others and made a small move to surge by them and into second.

I gave chase through the first mile (5:59) and went by on a small, welcome downhill. I mistakenly assumed this would be where I’d pull away for an easy win, but that’s not exactly how it played out. He hung right with me through the turnaround at the pellet (no cone, so I gave an honest effort to follow the white (or whole wheat?) flour semi-circle arrow past the half-way water stop. The next guy slipped a little on the gravel but remained close.

Now heading back in the opposite direction, it was nice to get so many shouts of encouragement from the rest of the runners. I couldn’t muster much in return but did my best to wave. These situations also give an opportunity to figure out the nearness of the competition without turning around to check. Through mile 2, the other racers were still shouting, “Good job, guys!” Guys? We were still a single cheering unit, meaning that he was right there. I knew we had one last gradual hill before descending the long hill we’d climbed earlier. I choose this a good spot to push the pace and see what happens. The move paid off, as I finally had some separation. I did my best to work the downhill, once peeking back to spot him maybe 7 or 8 seconds behind. I tried to kick up the steep uphill back to the finish, thinking of all the memories on that hill from high school XC ski practice (they were mostly bad memories of nearly falling off the side and not being able to make it up to the top without stopping, but let’s not concern ourselves with details).

I got to the line in…17:00. Ugh. 40 seconds slower than the last time I’d run that race? That was depressing. But wait, didn’t the course used to start and end right at the top of the hill instead of across the field? Yes, I think so! So, that must have added….well….not very much. 20 seconds tops? I guess it’s true what they say: The older I get, the faster I was.

View of the Catskills from Minnewaska parking lot.

Looking across Lake Minnewaska during my cool down.

Full results are here.

Race #3: Sailfest 5K - 7/15/18

After trashing my legs for two weeks, I returned to Rhode Island (still technically on vacation) and put some feelers out for company on a casual Sunday ride. In response, I learned about the Sailfest 5K. The possibility of running a race I hadn’t done before was appealing, but did I really want to shell out $$ to race on tired legs? The answer was an emphatic YES. After all, who knows when the next injury will take me away from competition; might as well race while I can. (NOTE: Almost immediately after writing that sentence, my knee started to hurt. See??)

Having not been to the mean streets of New London before, I got a ride in the Bousquet-mobile to make sure there weren’t any navigational mishaps on the way there. We met up with Paul for a short warm-up on part of the race course and got back to the car with plenty of time to spare. The temperature was mild but the air full of moisture. It wouldn’t be a great day for a long race, but you can run a 5K in any weather.

I shadowed Jeff V for a short second warm-up near the start and then got on the line next to Matthew. Much like last year’s Schonning 5K, I hadn’t put any thought into a goal time until Tommy asked me shortly before the race. “Umm, 16:20?” Sure, why not? The course, I was told, had some hills, so that time seemed reasonable, given my recent races. I held no illusions of winning, given Matthew’s fitness and general superiority. I hadn’t actually lost yet to him, since I’d moved away just as he was getting fast, and then after returning had not run in the same race (other than some low key events in which at least one of us wasn't racing seriously). Today would be the day he'd cross me off his list.

At the start, Matthew took off at surprising speed, and another guy (wearing red) went right with him. Several other fast starters got out ahead of me, and I tried to guess which ones would last and which wouldn’t. It’s always difficult to tell when everyone’s legs are feeling good, but it becomes abundantly clear as soon as they don’t. After a half-mile I was in third, but already well behind Matthew and the guy in red, who seemed to be in another race.

I got to the mile in 5:14 (not the 5:03 a volunteer wishfully shouted to me), and soon thereafter went around the rotary and up the first big hill. Now, this wasn’t a hill like those in the July 4^th race, but it was  tough, going on longer than I’d expected. By the time I’d made the right turn off the hill, my pace was nearly 6-min/mile. I tried to use the downhill to get some free speed, but my body insisted on an obtuse angle, no matter how much I wanted 90 degrees.  Way up ahead, Matthew had fallen behind the red guy but was maintaining his gap on me. The second mile split was 5:24.

The third mile featured another challenging hill, more for its location in the race than for its severity. Just as you’re trying to mount a big finish, this thing jumps on your back and drags you back down. I fought through as best I could and again attempted to use the downhills to my advantage. I made the final turn and enjoyed the finish through the fair tent-lined street, crossing the line in 16:17 (final mile 5:11).

Tommy came through a short time later, wrapping up a 2-3-4 WTAC placing. We waited for Shara to finish as second female before hopping under the fire hose for a refreshing shower. Jeff joined us after completing his PT run and then insisted on skin-on-skin contact during the requisite photograph.

I hit my arbitrary goal, so that’s good I guess. I’d really like to get under 16:00 this year, but I’ll clearly need a flatter course, fresher legs, and better fitness to do it. Something to shoot for later this summer.

Full results here. Local article here.