Williams Alumni XC and Grills Trail Race

With my legs feeling relatively good, and lots of fall racing options available, I found myself booked for five consecutive weekends of racing, starting with the Masters XC championships on October 17 and finishing with Li'l Rhody on November 14. The 2nd and 3rd of those races were low-key affairs, giving me a chance to relax a bit and use them to work on some race prep and strategy. 

The Williams XC Alumni race is typically an annual tradition, though with Covid forcing last year's edition to be canceled and us missing it the previous year, this would be our first trip since 2018. Always a fun time, the event brings back dozens of XC alums (there were nearly 100 this year) from the men's and women's teams for racing and camaraderie. I'm getting so old that only one alum from my era (the assistant coach, my good friend Dusty) was in attendance, with the majority of attendees from recently graduating classes. 

The race itself is a 5K, and in the past few versions of this race, we've followed a variety of different courses due to the ongoing construction at Mt. Greylock HS where the race is held. This year, we'd go up the "big hill" twice in the first woods loop, coming from the direction opposite our usual ascent, and then finish with the other woods loop, a rolling affair with nicely maintained trails. The course is always a bit challenging, but this would be the toughest I've seen it in years. 

After the traditional Bear Toss, we took some pictures and then were off. I latched onto the back of a pack of six and followed them up the hill for the first time. During this section, an enterprising young man pulled up alongside and started to recruit me for the Tracksmith masters team. I politely declined and tried to get away. I admired his boldness, but I'm not much of a conversationalist at rest, so doing it at race pace was out of the question.

After the first woods loop, we come back into the field where the race starts and repeat the loop a second time. I moved into fifth place here, waved to my kids on the side, and pushed onward. I caught another guy on our second time tackling the hill, then another, but once we got to the top he accelerated past me and a mini-battle was on. He got a bit of a gap on the long descent but I chipped away over the next half-mile, finally catching and passing him back. 

The last mile is tough, with lots of small rises and turns in the woods, and I just wanted to increase my lead here. We eventually get dumped out on the top of a grassy slope which turns right into a short finishing straight. I saw 2nd place up ahead, but he was too far in front to catch. My final time was 16:36, which, unfortunately, has no meaning to me, since this course was different and evidently a little short of 5K. Still, 3rd place is perhaps my best finish in the alumni race, and I was happy with my effort on a tough course.

The next week, it was back to the friendly confines of southern Rhode Island, and a new local trail race at Grills Preserve. With my legs getting hammered from these weekly races, and a big one coming up the following weekend, I opted for the 10K over the 10-mile, even though that choice would rob me of the chance to take on the top runners. This was confirmed after checking the registration lists and seeing that all of the main contenders had indeed registered for the longer race. On the bright side, this gave me an opportunity to use the event as a glorified workout to avoid overdoing it with another all-out effort. I came up with a plan to run the first mile at race pace (so as not to appear to be playing games to the rest of the runners), then, after the 10K and 10M courses diverged, I'd settle into a tempo effort from miles 2-5, finally ratcheting up the effort for a race-pace finish. 

After a fun warmup frolic on the latter part of the course with Jonny, we made our way to the start. The first mile is mostly on double-track, which allowed me some space to put in the hard effort. I felt great, and it probably helped my mental state knowing that I'd soon be able to relax and enjoy myself out there. I reached the mile mark in 5:33 and then promptly settled into my tempo effort just as I was hitting the beginning of the single-track. I don't recall many specifics of the next four miles, other than the interesting 'race track' section and the climb to and subsequent treacherous descent from the course's high point, as I was all alone following the incredibly well-marked course. (Having taken wrong turns in less well marked races in the past, I have come to appreciate the work of the volunteers whose job it is to place hundreds of flags -- especially those "confidence flags" that let you know you're still on the right track -- over miles and miles of trail.)  

Anyone with a GPS watch knows its limitations on twisty trails, so it's hard to know exactly how far you have gone and how much remains when running a race like this one. I estimated my watch would lose 1/10 of a mile for every mile run, meaning that I could be as much as 0.5 short by the time I hit the start of the final mile. To account for this and appropriately time my harder last mile, I started to surge a bit earlier than my watch suggested. Well, either my watch had its first ever accurate trail measurement, or that course is a bit longer than a 10K, as I finally hit the finish line, after a surprisingly long last "mile," at exactly 6.2 miles. But who really cares? It's a trail race and the times are meaningless, so let's drop it!

In the end, I'd run 39:16 for a NEW COURSE RECORD! (So much for the meaningless times...) Sure, sure, it was the first year of this race's existence, but no one can ever take that away from me, until they beat the time, which they surely will someday soon. But until that day comes, I will enjoy the record, the win, and another jar of Kevin Murphy's delicious honey.

USATF XC Nationals

Let me start by saying this: I might never again have a race go as unexpectedly well as this one did. I don't know if it was the weather, my training, the strategy, the course, the way the others ran, what I ate for breakfast, or some combination of those, but things fell into place perfectly as the race evolved, and, somehow, by the time I reached the finish line, I had won the darn thing. I'll briefly walk through my thoughts leading up to the race and then use the many pictures taken to tell the story of the race.

I typically enter a race with a fairly concrete time or place goal in mind. Not this time. Given that this was a cross country race on a course I hadn't competed on in 20 years (20 years and 9 days, to be precise), I had very little idea what pace would be appropriate. And my ability to compete with a mostly unknown-to-me field of runners was, well, unknown to me. The only thing I set my sights on was running a smart first mile (not getting caught up in the usual overenthusiastic XC starting sprint that I assumed would happen) and then trying to maintain that same effort and competing the rest of the way.

[NOTE: There's a great blog - RunningProf.com - that covers these big national masters events. Prior to this one, and unbeknownst to me, he posted a thorough preview of the race and its main contenders. I'm glad I hadn't seen this, or I almost certainly would have been less ambitious in my pacing and moves.]

One other twist was that I'd be running my first race for the HFC Striders, a club based in SE Massachusetts that I'd joined after the Bobby Doyle 5M in August. I'd had mixed feelings about signing up for a different club (which required being "released" by the WTAC, like I'm some kind of discontented baseball player no longer wanting to play for the team who'd signed me). But I was assured that I could remain a member of WTAC and simply compete for HFC is the USATF races, where my official membership would matter. Once that was clarified, I was excited to a join a team I'd been reading about for years in New England Runner. There was something scrappy about HFC that I'd always liked. Maybe it is the quirky name (HFC stands for "Hurtin' for Certain") or the David vs. Goliath nature of their Masters division rivalry with the BAA, but this was definitely the right kind of team for me. I also loved that they are very much a community-based organization with close ties to their local area. It might not be my community, but it's that spirit that I love. In any case, HFC has a strong Masters team, and my main goal would be contributing in some positive way to that team's outcome at the race.

Getting to the course quite early, I brought up the race website on my phone to confirm the check-in time and location. Scrolling down the page, my stomach nearly dropped out of my body. Proof of vaccination is required to race! While I'm happily vaccinated, my paper card (which I still can't believe is the way we show evidence of vaccination in this country) was sitting on my desk at home, nearly two hours from here. I was mentally preparing to drive back home and call it a day when I looked again at the website and saw that a picture of the card would suffice. No one was at my house, so I couldn't ask Katie to take a picture, but I remembered I'd had to take a picture of the card to submit to my employer a few months ago. Had I saved that photo on my phone or deleted it? Rapidly scanning the thumbnails, I spotted it! Crammed between pictures of the dog and a Jenga tower (don't ask) was the card. Fortunately, this would be the most stressful part of the day. 

I found my new team, introduced myself, and hopped into their warmup jog. It reminded me of college XC, with little packs of people wearing similar colors jogging around different parts of the course. I made a quick connection with one of my new teammates when we discovered that my high school teammate and friend was his college teammate and friend. The New England running world is small.

Before long, we were on the line, ready to roll.

The race starts across a big open field that has for decades tempted runners to run too hard too soon. I started off conservatively and quickly found myself swarmed by other runners as we made the hard right turn at the end of the field. I tried counting the people in front of me but there was too much movement to get an "official" count (I was somewhere in the 15-20th range). While we descended gradually on the first part of our initial circuit, I focused on keeping myself in check and not worrying about anything else.

My only goal for the first mile was to feel comfortable and in control. I methodically picked off some of the faster starters during the second half mile. Here, as we approach the mile marker, you can see my red hat toward the back of this chase pack. The GPS mile split was 5:04 (race clock was 5:09 or so). 

Just before the mile mark, I passed a bunch of guys (including a solid BAA pack) and eventually found myself at the head of the chase pack in the picture above, with three other guys ahead. I opened my stride a bit on the downhill before we hit the infamous Bear Cage Hill, passing a guy I recalled being an outstanding high school runner in New York in the late '90s, and started the hill the 3rd place.

On the hill, I pulled in behind teammate and Masters stud TJ Unger. I kept things smooth over the hill, not wanting to overextend myself. The leader (John Poray from Indiana Elite) was not even in my thoughts at this point -- he looked extremely smooth and fast the last time I'd seen him. At the top of the hill, I pulled even with TJ and urged him to come with me to for the lead. Despite saying this, I didn't harbor any thought of potentially winning. I was very much zoned in on simply running a smart race.

After the short and steep downhill, I suddenly found myself closing on the leader. The gap got smaller as we came around past the finish area with a mile-plus still to go. Taking the lead so far from the finish would put a big ol' target on my back for an awfully long time, and I'm much more comfortable playing the role of the hunter late in races. But a pass was inevitable, and it came much sooner than I'd hoped. Now it was time to turn the screw and see how everyone - myself included - would respond. Mile 2 split was 5:16.

 

The final mile takes you into the "Wilderness" loop -- a dirt bridle path with a long, gradual uphill to start and then a twisty return back to the fields. I tried not to let up on the hill and then accelerated after each turn so that there would be more space between me and the other guys each time they regained a line of sight. There are a couple of 90+ degree turns that give a chance to check behind you without looking back, and I miraculously wasn't able to see anyone at these spots. A few friendly fans told me the lead was up to 40 meters with about a half mile to go. 

The last part of the race involves a brutally long loop around the big field where the race starts and ends. You can see the finish line from so far away, you find yourself simultaneously wanting to start your kick too early and throw your arms up in exasperation. It was right around where this picture was taken that someone shouted, "In two minutes, you'll be a national champion." I was so focused on executing my race, it hadn't even occurred to me that I was about to win, let alone the significance of it.

One more turn until the finish. I was sure at this point that I wouldn't be caught and was able to relax and enjoy the moment (though the look on my face might make you think otherwise). Mile 3 split was 5:09.

Nearly there, I'm eyeing the clock. Final time was 16:22, with the last 0.2(! the course was a tad long on GPS) at 4:33 pace.

This picture found its way to all sorts of websites and newsletters. The only thing I'm thinking at this point is that I shouldn't lift my arms to take the tape so as not to appear to be raising them in triumph.  

So, instead, I ended up looking like I'd been caught by a very large lasso. 

There was a brief awards ceremony afterward. I took the opportunity to get to know some of my new teammates. 

3/5 of HFC's scoring members. We placed 2nd in the 40+ division, just 4 points behind the BAA. Mike Daniels was just a week removed from a marathon and still ran well to score for the team.

Taken before the race, here's the full 40+ squad.

This was an incredibly fun and completely unexpected experience. Reflecting on the race, it unfolded exactly how it needed to for my approach to work. If others had gone out slower, the outcome might have been different. Also, my legs have possibly never felt so good. When it came time to reel in the other guys, it seemed much easier than it should have. I don't expect to ever have such an effortlessly strong race again but will cherish the memory of this one forever.

The Running Prof also has a thorough recap of both the individual race and the team race. For additional info, see the Results, USATF write-up, and Finish line video