Farm Park Challenge Marathon - May 4, 2024

Bigfoot, or bare foot, or little Bigfoot?

Century!

I ran my first marathon, the now-defunct Frederick Marathon, on April 30, 2006. Today, completion of the Farm Park Challenge Marathon marks my 100th marathon or longer race. More details below, but let's get to the sloppy details first.

Weather or Not

The forecast for race day remains unsettled as the day approaches.  The probably of showers yo-yos up and down but never disappears. Temperatures are predicted in the low 50s. It sounds like perfectly miserable running conditions.  But registration remains open until 1159 Thursday evening, so I wait to hear the 11 p.m. TV weather forecast before making a final decision. When the forecaster says that he does not think Saturday will be a rain-out, I sign up. Showers are manageable.  And I had run FPC in 2022 under similar conditions, so I knew what to expect and how to prepare.

Repeat five times.

I bring three bags: one with dry clothes and a towel for when I'm finished, one with four shirts and hats, three buffs, a pair of socks and towels for in-race changes, and an empty one to put wet clothes in.

Friday night, after turning in, I'm awakened by the sound of a downpour and thunder, with lightning flashing. I figure it is 1better to get that over with before the race begins.

The morning is cool and there is a sight drizzle and I put on tights, a pair of long-sleeve shirts, a buff and gaiters to keep mud from my shoes. To minimize time at aid stations I use my hydration pack, which also provides pockets to carry gels and other food, and most importantly, a poncho.  Before we start I put on gloves.

The only stream crossing, just before the turnaround.

Out and Back (Repeat five times)

There are three other events at the challenge in addition to the marathon: 3-, 6-, and 10-hour challenges, each of which require the entrants to complete the 5.1ish mile out and back within an hour, then do it again starting at the top of the next hour.  Marathoners have the luxury of not having to meet the one hour requirement, and have the full ten hours to finish.

The 17 marathoners start at 650. It is not quite raining but not quite not raining either. The grassy sections of the course quickly get my feet wet, but the dirt single and double track are not muddy. Since the field is small it quickly sorts itself out. There will be little or no passing or changing places after the first couple of miles. I catch no one and no one catches me.

Turn-around.

The ten 10-hour competitors and the 39 6-hour competitors start ten minutes behind us at 7 a.m.  Within a couple of mile the leaders have caught and passed me.

Almost at the turn-around there is a small stream crossing, but conveniently located rocks make it possible to cross without getting wet feet. The faster runners don't waste time doing that and simply dash across.

Back we go, and I finish the first lap in 1:03.  This gives me a 7 minute head start on not only the 10- and 6-hour challengers, but also on the 27 3-hour challengers, who join us for the next three laps.

It doesn't take long for the challengers to catch up with me and then pass.  I exchange greetings with familiar faces, both passing me and returning toward the finish while I am still outbound.

"Crowded" second lap.

The rain picks up on the second loop and I put on my poncho.  It helps keep me from getting too much wetter, although I'm already a bit wet from the mist and light drizzle.  

At the end of the second lap (1:15) I go to the car and change my shirt and hat.  It is refreshing to feel partly dry, even if that won't last for too long.

As the day proceeds the course becomes increasingly muddy.  Puddles start to appear. The temperature is stuck in the low 50s, and I put my gloves back on. That is a bit of a struggle, as they are wet and my hands won't slide into them.  It takes a combination of tugging, pulling and interlocking fingers to get them on.

First lap not muddy.

Sloppy fifth lap.

Back to the start/finish at the end of the third lap (1:13) and back onto the course.  More muddy, and on the way back the rain picks up again the the poncho comes out again. With four laps finished (1:20) it is back to the car to once again change the wet shirt and dripping hat.

Back for my fifth lap, there are fewer runners on the course as the 4-hour challenge entrants and finished and the remaining 10 and 6-hour challenge runners are on their sixth lap. In fact, the 6-hour challengers will finish their event before I have made it back to the start/finish at the end of my fifth lap, and I'll see the remaining 10-hour challengers headed outbound while I approach the end of my fifth lap.

But the end of my fifth lap is not the end of the marathon.  There is still a mini out and back to complete. It is a mini-lap that has gotten longer than last year.  I'm confused by it, as the laps are pretty much the same course as last year.  Now, however the extra bit is about a mile. But no sense complaining; in trail races the distance is what the race director says it is. So I run and walk it, and return to the finish for the final time in 6:34:27.

On the course.

Finished now, it is the first time all day I take advantage of the aid station, getting an Athletic non-alcoholic beer and two slices of pizza. A volunteer offers to warm up the slices, and I accept. Even with the warm pizza, tt isn't long until I start to get cold. I'm wet, the temperature is in the 50s and I've stopped running.  It is shades of the 2015 Madrid Marathon.  Quickly going to the car, I change into my dry clothes, put on my hoodie and turn on the seat warmer and heated steering wheel for the drive home. The hot shower there (after a clothes-on shower to remove mud) finally warms me up.

Results

Of the 17 marathoners, I'm 12 of 17 overall, 11 of 12 males, and 1 of 1 in my age group. Six of 10 finish the 10-hour challenge; 32 of 39 the 6-hour challenge and 22 of 27 the 3-hour challenge.

Century

As I noted at the top, this is my 100th event of at least a marathon or longer. According to my records, I've run 37 marathons, both road and trail, 44 50Ks, a 32-miler, two 55Ks, two 60Ks, twelve 50-milers and two 100 Ks. I've DNF's at a 100k, two 50-milers, and two 50Ks.  I've run in nine of the United States and three European countries, 

It wasn't what I planned when I ran that first marathon.  That was a check the box event, partly spurred on by a feeling of missing out, and partly from listening to my internal clock ticking. and I did not know that it would lead first to more marathons, and then to trails.  But it did, and it has become a part of me that I'm not ready to give up.

In fact, I've got a 50K planned for the weekend following Farm Park Challenge.  That report is forthcoming. 

Swag: Shirt, 20-oz. glass, car magnet, bib, 2 non-alcoholic beers.

Black Canyon 60K - February 11, 2024

Water Crossing I

"There's a river down there," I note, "and this car isn't getting across it."

We are in line to go to packet pickup for the Black Canyon 60K at Deep Canyon Ranch the day before our Black Canyon 60K, but the cars ahead of us hint at a bottleneck on the unpaved road down to the field below.  Glancing to the head of the line we see why - cars need to go single file and one at a time to ford Black Canyon Creek, swollen with rain from the previous days. There is no way that I'm going to attempt the ford with our rented Mustang convertible.

Cold at the start.

We park at the top of the road and walk to the creek, where we hitch a ride across with someone willing to risk their somewhat higher rental car.

After gathering our bibs and swag we watch some of the leaders of the 100K come thru the aid station at Deep Canyon Ranch before retracing out steps to the creek to hitch a ride back to the other side.  At the Mustang with talk with a couple in a BMW Z4 facing the dilemma we had confronted.  We give them our parking place so they can hitch a ride, and we head back to the rental car center at the airport to exchange the Mustang for a Ford Escape, which we figure probably can get across the creek in the morning, where we need to be to get the bus to the start of the point-to-point course.

At 9:35 Saturday night I get an email that because "the buses will not cross a flowing stream" the parking location has been changed.  That's a relief and I can go to bed with one less thing to keep me awake the night before the race.  Even so, sleep pre-race takes its usual fitful course.

Leaving Mayer High School.

Starting Off

Parking and boarding the busses is easy, even in the pre-dawn darkness.  It is chilly, and the bus ride is long, at least a half hour.  The bus is cold even full of runners.  The eastern horizon gradually starts to lighten as the bus labors up the 2000 foot ascent of I-17 toward Mayer High School.

Off the bus at 6:40, the temperature is a frigid 26 degrees.  I huddle in the lee of the school's doors, trying to stay warm before the start. Finally we go to the start line, and at 7 a.m., run a lap around the dirt track, which is mostly frozen mud with a frozen puddle toward the end.  Around the school, onto local streets and we head out a couple of miles to get onto the Black Canyon Trail.  The sun is just about peeking over the horizon, but a steady wind from the northeast keeps it chilly. 

Michele leads us early.

It is nice to get off the hard surface of the road, but the trail is reminiscent of running on dinosaur tracks, as the 100K runners on Saturday had churned up mud, which froze overnight.  Now we have to navigate over thousands, no tens of thousands, of frozen footprints.  Caution is the word for this part, as a misstep could result in a twisted ankle or worse.

But after awhile the mud section is finished and the trail is generally smooth with a bit of rolling up and down.  Discussions begin with runners travelling at the same pace, including with Michele, who is not only a veteran 100-mile runner, but the owner of Ornery Mule Racing, which puts on a number of iconic 100-mile races in the mid-West.  We exchange stories, including why trail running is better than road running (no mile markers, better scenery, no repetitive running motion, better aid station food, nicer people).

Welcome to the trail.

At mile 7.7 we reach the Antelope Mesa aid station.  I'm warmed up enough to discard the Little Hottie hand warmers from my gloves.  

Enjoy the Scenery and the Companionship

The first part of the course was a bit of up and down with only about a net down of about 100 feet.  Now we have serious downhill, dropping nearly 900 feet over the next 5.2 miles to the Hidden Treasure Mine aid station.  Part of the course is alongside a canyon with a creek at the bottom.  I inquire if it it Black Canyon. None of the other runners seem to know. (It turns out to be Antelope Creek.) View to the west reveal peaks covered with snow.

About a quarter mile from the aid station a female runner comes hustling by. Normally, a dozen miles into a trail race, getting passed, or passing another runner happens infrequently and in slow motion. But she volunteers an explanation that perhaps only is the sort shared by perfect stranger trail runners with each other, "Gotta hurry, gotta get to the portapotty!"

At the aid station is a women sitting being attended to by the medical staff. She's suffering some ankle pain and they tell her that they cannot provide any medication to her, but perhaps another runner may have something to offer.  I overhear it and offer her a couple of ibuprofen while the medical staff studiously scans the far horizon for coyotes.  Hours later she will pass pass us, her ankle feeling better.

Over the next stretch Emaad and I spend some time leapfrogging and running with Amanda and Carol, a pair of Canadian runners.  Both are using trekking poles. As usual we chat and share stories with them as we go along.

Snow covered peaks to the west.

As we continue to descent, the vegetation changes, most noticeably with the cacti.  Near the top of the course there were only some prickly pear cacti, and maybe some barrel cacti.  But a bit further down we start to see the dreaded chollas, notorious for barbs that stick with you. And in awhile with come across the iconic saguaros.

It is about 6.5 miles to the next aid station and I pull out my pace card to see how far more we have to travel.  I made the pace card to keep track of the cut-off times, but the generous 12 hours to finish should mean there shouldn't be an issue.  Indeed, we were 25 minutes ahead of the cutoff at the first aid station, then 35 minutes ahead at Hidden Treasure AS and I stopped thinking about it the rest of the day.

Emaad in the saguaros.

But looking at the pace card means not looking at the trail, and in one misstep gravity pulls me down.  I sit on the ground and note blood from my left palm, and some scrapes on the right forearm and right knee, and some soreness in my right shoulder.  Emaad picks up the pace card. Amanda and Carol ask if I'm OK. I sit - it is curiously relaxing as I look at the mountains in the distance - and evaluate.  I assure them I'm alright and tell them to go on. After a minute I get up and put my left glove on to protect the scrape there. and wrap my buff around my right palm as protection in case I fall again.

At the Bumble Bee aid station (mile 19.4) I get my drop bag, dispose of my buff, gloves and two shirts, and realize that I've lost my warm hat, perhaps when I fell. With my shirt off I wave to the medical staff and a tech comes over and cleans  my scrapes.  I put on a clean shirt from the drop bag and Emaad and I go hit the trail again, where we accompany Amanda and Carol on the climb out of Bumble Bee.

Bumble Bee is in a valley, and we have a 300 foot climb out the other side.  But once there, it is mostly level, with a little bit of rolling.  We pass through some areas with saguaros,  The weather is getting warm,

and I've decided that I'll take my tights off at the next aid station.

Arriving at Gloriana Mine aid station (mile 24) I enter a portapotty for the tights removal, and tie them around my waist.  It is almost 9 miles to the next aid station and I make sure to fill my pack with a mixture of water and sports drink.

Emaad and I leapfrog with a young guy (32 YO; Garrett?) who seems - brave? unprepared? - for an ultra.  That is, he is running minimalist, with no water or nutrition.  He is relying on the aid stations, but now the day is getting warm, there is no aid station for 9 miles, and at our pace, that is going to take hours (turns out to take 3:03).  But he seems content and is making as good progress as we are and goes on ahead.

Creek crossing.
(Photo by E. Burki)

Water Crossing II

The course descends a bit and we spy him ahead. He is taking his shoes and socks off to cross Black Canyon Creek that is flowing fairly rapidly.  Observing him we can gauge the depth of the water - about mid calf - and the speed of the flow.  As he sits on the other side to put his footwear back on, I veer off a bit to take pictures of Emaad crossing, and once he is on the other side, I enter the water. Neither of us contemplate removing shoes or socks, and look forward to getting out feet cooled off.  The water is muddy, and one cannot see the bottom, so I tread carefully, getting each step firmly planted before taking the next step. 

We overtake our minimalist friend as we proceed through cow gates making sure they are closed behind us.

After a few more miles the course heads downhill alongside some drainage.  Unfortunately the trail is very rocky, as if itself is sometimes an intermittent watercourse, and the chance to run a nice downhill is lost to avoid the chance of turning an ankle.

Off in the middle distance to the east we can see traffic on I-17. And after a bit more we can see structures in Black Canyon City.  In a few miles we arrive at the Kay Mine aid station (mile32.8). Although we still have 5.2 miles to go, it almost seems like we are done. We see runners who have completed the out-and-back to the Agua Fria River headed to the finish.

I have some Coke and add some water to my pack, Emaad refills his bottles, having run dry on the stretch from Gloriana Mine AS, and an aid station worker insists that our friend carry a water bottle for the journey to the river.

At last!

Part of the two miles to the river is on mining roads, and we pass active mine shafts (not working on Super Bowl Sunday).  Our progress seems glacial, even though we are mostly on roads that are runnable.  Finally there is dry Slate Creek ahead and for a brief moment I think it is the river. But no, we descend to the creek bed and have to ascend the other side to cross a small ridge to the Aqua Fria. Finally we get to the riverbank, run around the turnaround sign, and head back.

My lack of training is taking its toll. Having run only 52 miles in the entire month of January is not a good base for 60K at the beginning of February.  I'm pretty tired and not enjoying the return to Key Mine.  But what choice does one have?

(When we were initially incoming to Key Mine there was a runner who had been to the river telling a volunteer that he was hurting and wanted to drop.  The volunteer told him that he only had 1.3 miles to the finish, downhill and on a dirt road rather than a trail and urged him to go on.  The runner started out but was soon back, saying he could not make it. Sometimes there are choices.) 

We go through Key Mine AS, not stopping. The unpaved road takes us down to Deep Canyon Ranch.  We run the downhills, slowly.  Onto the flat we can see the finish ahead but resume walking.  Finally, with a few hundred yards to go, Emaad begins to run.  I keep walking, until with  20 yards or so to go, and a photographer waiting at the finish, I run across the line and receive my wooden finisher's award.

The Data

Emaad's "sprint to the finish" allows him to be more than a minute ahead of me, in 11:16:48. He could have been much further ahead if he hadn't stayed with me throughout the day. Amanda and Carol are 15 seconds behind me. The minimalist is about five minutes back, and Michele paces herself to an 11:30 finish.

I finish in 11:18:00, good for 324 of 341 overall, 187 of 196 males, and 3 of 3 in my age group. I'm tied for oldest finisher.  There were 34 DNFs.

Epilogue

I can barely climb into the raised Dodge Ram pickup that takes us across the creek to the parking at Chileens on 17.  Emaad and I go inside to get something to eat and have a beer.  Although it is Super Bowl Sunday and the game is in full swing, there are no TV's inside and the restaurant is not crowded.  We are glad to have the Ford Escape rather than the Mustang, as with our tired legs, getting into, and especially out of, a low ride would have been difficult.

We arrive at our friend Sara's house just in time for the coin toss for overtime of the game. 

Swag:
shirt, buff, waterproof bag, bib, finisher award, Squirrels Nut Butter, pace card.