Cotswold Way 100k - June 22, 2024

 Planning

Emaad and I take a surprisingly relaxed approach to the run-up to the Ultra Challenge Cotswold Way 100K. Sure, we are flying 3600 miles to run in an area we have never seen before, and our families are coming along on the trip (but certainly not to cheer us on) to England, and we are staying about an hour from the start which will entail driving on the 'wrong' side of the road to get there, but we are experienced enough ultra and trail runners to feel confident that we can comfortably finish under the 34 hour cut-off.  We ran a 60K in February, a 50K in May and I ran a trail marathon, also in May. So we are appropriately trained. Since we are doing the 'continuous' challenge (there is a two-day challenge, with an overnight stop between the two halves) we figure we should be done in 18-20 hours.

Only two things are of some concern: the weather (it's England, after all), with week-out forecasts calling for a 30 percent or so chance of showers, and the climbing.  According to the website, there is about 7200 feet of climb, most of it in the first half.  That seems like a lot, but it is rolling hills and we did Rim to River in the Grand Canyon last year, and that was 4800 feet of descent followed by 4500 feet of ascent.  Poles were necessary, but there was nothing "rolling" about the Grand Canyon - it was always down followed by relentless up.  I decide that poles will not be necessary.

Ready to start.

Starting

An uneventful drive takes us to the Royal Agricultural University in Cirencester for the start of the race. Everything is well organized and we are directed to the parking near to the starting area. We get our bibs, route card and lanyards with our QR codes, hand in our drop bags for delivery to the midway rest stop and stroll to the start corral where our codes are scanned. There is a short briefing where we are told, amongst other things that some District Councils along the way have prohibited the race organizers from removing hazards along the way ("Watch your heads") or trimming overgrowth along the paths.  An enthusiastic trainer leads some stretching (I don't take part, wanting to conserve energy) and at 8 a.m., we are off.

The temperature is a bit cool and I am wearing arm sleeves, but they come off in a couple of miles.  The weather turns out near perfect, without a drop of rain and if anything, temperatures a bit on the warm side, with highs in the upper 70s.

We are shortly on a single track path with tall grass and bushes on either side.  It soon opens up onto the edge of a field and in a bit we pass some buildings between which is a pack of 20 or more young beagles with a couple of people.  Perfect for fox hunting, except fox hunting is banned in England.

Along the Thames
and Severn Canal.

We run - and walk - with people signed up for a variety of the events - full continuous 100K walkers and joggers (that's us, the full continuous runners apparently have started at 7 a.m.), two-day 100K, first half 50K. There is no apparent system to determine who started at which time.

Emaad and I go along in the company of a young couple and a pair of other challengers.  On the path alongside remnants of the Thames and Severn Canal I stop to take a picture of a tower. Running to catch up with the rest, the woman is on the ground, dripping blood from her forehead. Her hands are also a bit bloody. She cannot see the source of the blood from the wound and is disturbed by it as her companion tries to comfort her.  The others have also turned around to render assistance.  Fortunately her companion has a first aid kit with him and as it appears that she is in good hands and not seriously hurt, so the rest of us go on.

We shortly come to the Coates Portal of the canal tunnel, opened in 1789 and originally 2.2 miles in length.  Up and over the tunnel we go, and back on the path we see a Great Western Railway train zoom past.

St. Kenelm's Church, Sapperton.

Eating

In a bit we pass through Sapperton and arrive at the first aid station at the Edgeworth Polo Club (KM 12, 1:58 elapsed time).  As ultra runners we are used to good food at aid stations, but this is a step above.  There are a variety of pastries to choose from: pain au chocolat, raisin buns and other selections.

Rest Stop 1, Edgeworth Polo Club.

We enjoy breakfast without rushing and keep going. Since this is a challenge, and not a race, the mind-set of the entrants is different. Generous cut-offs means there is no pressure to get through the aid stations quickly and efficiently unlike last year's Rosaryville 50K.  We run and walk as appropriate for the course.  Hills are not hills, they are "walk opportunities."

We pass horses . . .

. . . cows . . .

The scenery and the course is varied.  We pass through fields with cattle, horses or sheep.  There are farm fields, some of which we go along the edge of, and in one case, diagonally across the rows of crops. We pass through the center of some villages and skirt along the edges of others, including some well tended gardens. Sometimes the path is along a sidewalk, or a wide field, or a dirt road, or a double track, and sometimes single track, not infrequently very narrow with tall grass rubbing against your legs.

. . . sheep . . .

. . . and more cows.

Lunch.

At Rest Stop 2, Painswick RFC (KM 23, 4:09 elapsed time) we stop for lunch. There is a selection of sandwiches - I take ham and cheese, Emaad selects egg and cress - crisps, cookies and soda.  We take our time eating at a table under a tent. We here the announcer greeting the finishers of the first quarter challenge.  Done eating, we top up our hydration packs and heard out again.

Happenings

I recall the following from the challenge, but the order in which they happened, and where they occurred is lost in the mists of time - or the fog of my memory.

A long line of competitors is going down a moderately steep, overgrown single track trail.  I start to loose my balance and slowly fall to my left into some brambles. I wind up propped up on them and someone reaches out a hand to help pull me up and out.  Not too badly scratched up, I spend the next few minutes picking small thorns out of my shirt.

Roses, clematis and more.

The course is particularly rolling, and unlike in the United States, where switchbacks are common for steeper sections, the paths tend to go straight up and down.  At one such downhill I joke that it is steep enough that it could be used for the Gloucester Cheese Rolling.

At another place we turn right off a country road and head toward a hill. Amy, one of the participants, has been on this path before, and warns that not only will be be going straight up, but that it will be steep enough that we may need hands as well as feet.  The path proves her right.

Passing through one small village we have to cross a two-lane road.  Emaad is ahead and looks left for oncoming traffic.  Perfectly rational - but not in the UK, where the traffic is coming from the right.  He dodges that one, only to now look to his right, when he should now be looking left. Despite this second error, he manages to arrive safely on the other side.

Moss-covered stone wall.

In addition to the green fields of the Cotswolds, the flowers and gardens are quite attractive. Someone has a row of alternating red and green maple trees, and building walls are often decorated with flowering plants.

Rest Stop 3 

Approaching Rest Stop 3 at Coaley Peak (KM 38, 7:35 elapsed time), we spy a mound. Initially I think it is a motte, but as we get closer we see a sign identifying it as the Nympsfield Long Barrow. The aid station is just a few hundred yards further along, and we stop to use the facilities, refill our hydration and get a snack.  In addition to the usual, the aid station has the equivalent of a small candy store, with about a dozen Lucite bins, each with a different kind of gummy candy within.  There are small paper bags one can use for the candy, or for popcorn which is also available. The aid station is situated on the edge of an escarpment offering views to the west.

Tyndale Monument

Tyndale Monument.

The course goes to and past two towers erected in the 19th century.

The first is the William Tyndale Monument, erected in 1866 in memory of the first man to translate and print the Bible into English.  He was rewarded for his efforts by being strangled and burned at the stake in Brussels in 1536. We pass by it about KM 51 and I relate the story to one of our fellow challengers.

This is just a couple of kilometers before we arrive at the next rest stop.

Rest Stop 4
Wotton Community PARC marks the halfway point (KM 53, 12:02 elapsed time). Given that it has taken about 12 hours to go just over half the course, it is clear that our 18-20 hour target is no longer realistic.  But this is a challenge not a race, so we are not rushing.  We sit down to a meal of spaghetti with bolognaise sauce, a roll and a soda.

Somewhere on
the Cotswold Way.

We retrieve our drop bags but I don't see a need for changing socks or shirt and just take a couple of extra gels in case I need them between aid stations. I also get the extra batteries and lights for use when the sun has set.

This also marks the point where participants doing the first half challenge, the two-day 100k challenge and the second quarter challenge are done for the day.  Only left are those of use in the 100K continuous.  From now on, there will be fewer persons to chat with along the course.

The Fleece Inn

Emaad has plans to stop a pub during our run, and has noted a couple on his pace card.  But as we pass thru the village of Hillesley (about KM 61), the patrons outside The Fleece Inn encourage us to drop in. We have been going for 13 hours (it is about 9 p.m. but still light), so it isn't a hard decision.  They recommend a local ale and Emaad and I each order a half pint (we still have a way to go). We encourage other participants passing by to stop in, but none do. Although many of the patrons may consider us peculiar for a number of reasons - Americans coming to England to trek 100K - one is a long-distance cyclist and we trade stories of ultra events, either on foot or by wheel.

Emaad finishes his beer and I finish half of mine and it it time to continue.  

Somerset Monument.

Somerset Monument

About KM 65 (by my GPS, by the course markings it may have been KM 59 or so) we come to the monument to Lord Robert Edward Somerset, built in 1846. He was a British officer, eventually attaining the rank of general, who fought in the Napoleonic Wars and served as a Member of Parliament. 

The path there has great views of the River Severn and the Severn and Prince of Wales Bridges crossing from England to Wales.

As we go on night begins to fall. Sunset is 9:30 p.m., which means civil twilight lasts until close to 10 p.m.

There was a street
named "The Street."

Rest Stop 5

We arrive at the Hawkesbury Village Hall rest stop (KM 62.5, elapsed time 14:14). There are a couple of participants sitting down, but we refill our liquids, use the porta-loo, get a snack or two, and go on. It's 15.5 KM to the next rest stop. I plug my phone into the compact battery charger I brought along as the phone is almost fully discharged.

Although night has fallen, the course is well marked with glo-sticks, which are particularly helpful where it crosses open fields.

Earlier in the day Emaad had pointed out that I was leaning to the left.  This had happened to me once before, at the 2017 Edinburgh Marathon.  I wasn't aware of it then and I'm not aware of it now.  But I try to correct by consciously leaning to the right to straighten up.

For the first three or four miles out of the rest stop I'm fine. But my back begins to hurt, and I'm feeling tired. Not only am I running less and walking more, but I'm walking more slowly.

Amy passes us around mile 46. She is using poles and I think that if I can use them for a bit, to the next rest stop I'll get enough relief.  I ask her if I can borrow them but neglect to say only to the next aid station.  She declines, noting they are expensive Leki poles.  I understand, as the poles I had decided not to bring are also Lekis.  She goes on, then stops, turns around and offers me one.  I thank her and take it, figuring I'll catch up to her at Rest Stop 6 and return it.

My stamina continues to erode, as does my pace. Mile 45 is 24 minutes; mile 46 is 26:36, mile 47 is over 31 minutes. As we enter the village of Leighterton, I have to stop and sit on a low wall. We get thru the village and on the other side transit a field and climb over a stone stile.  I get halfway over and call for a two or three minute rest. Mile 49 takes almost 34 minutes.

The path on the other side of the stile is narrow, overgrown with tall grass and between a low stone wall and a wire fence. It is hard enough to move along, but the grass grabbing at my ankles is further torment.  Once, maybe twice, I tell Emaad I have to rest, and sit down in the grass for more breaks.  Some more participants come along, inquire of my situation, and assured that I'm not injured and have someone with me, move on.

It seems interminable, but we eventually exit onto a grassy field with a slight downhill.  I muster some strength and run - or at least fool myself into believing I'm running. The pace continues to deteriorate. Mile 50, including the horridly overgrown stretch, takes 42 minutes.

No question now that I won't be going on once I reach the rest stop. I tell Emaad that he can go on if he wishes, but he declines, gallantly claiming that he has achieved his time-on-feet goal.

A course marshal meets us about a half mile from the rest stop. The participants who had passed us reported that there was a runner in distress (me) behind and she was coming out to see if assistance was needed.  I appreciate the help and twice more stop to rest, once sitting on the ground on her generously provided poncho and a second time on a stone wall near the path. 

Rest Stop 6

Arriving at the Beaufort Polo Club rest stop, (KM 78, 19:31 elapsed time) I report to the medical tent.   

Rather than telling me that I will not be allowed to go on, the technician asks some questions about how I feel.  I answer and tell him that I'm done. There will be no need for a awkward conversation.

The rest stop captain delivers a surprising bit of good news.  We will not be a 100K DNF (even if that is what we are). Instead she informs us that since there is a 3/4 challenge event, and we have completed the 3/4 distance, she will report us to headquarters as 3/4 challenge finishers.

Not surprisingly, Amy is nowhere in sight and I'm concerned about getting her pole back to her. The helpful rest stop captain assures that they will get it to the finish for her to retrieve there.

 

To the Finish

There is a small bus to take us back to the start/finish that is ready to leave.  I'm handed a paper plate with several pieces of pizza. Another couple is already on the bus. The rest stop captain hands Amy's pole to the bus driver and off we go, stopping somewhere on the course to pick up another runner who could not continue.

At the finish we are given our finisher's medal and shirt.

It's already light when we arrive as sunrise is 4:49 a.m.

We get in the car and I drive us back to Oxford, only nicking curbs on the lefthand side of the road a couple of time.

Epilogue

Deciding not to bring poles was, I believe, a major contributing factor to failing to complete the 100k.  Not only do they provide stability, but they also shift exertion from the legs to the upper body and likely would have prevented my listing. We had done about 6580 feet of climb and about a corresponding amount of descent. Maybe 30 to 40 percent of the participants used poles.

After the event I contacted Ultra Challenge to see if Amy retrieved her trekking pole. There was no pole in the lost and found afterward, so perhaps she got it.  Looking at the results I identified a possible Amy and a probable Amy and reached out to them on the Ultra Challenge Club Facebook group and messaged them on FB Messenger but have not received any responses. 

If you are the Amy please contact me.  I want to express my appreciation for your unselfishness toward a stranger in distress.  

Swag: bib, QR code and lanyard, route card, buff,  3/4 challenge finishers' medal,
finisher's shirt with May [sic] 2024 date

Dirty German 50K - May 11, 2024

 Weather or Not

Emaad and I wait until Tuesday before the race before signing up for the Dirty German 50K. The forecasts for Saturday are uncertain and changing from day-to-day and neither of us want to run in a steady rain.  The forecasts gradually reduce the probability of precipitation to showers later in the day and we decide to go. Forecasted showers in the days preceding the race suggest there may be mud, but that is of little concern.

Waiting for the start. Neither the buff nor
the shirt made it to the start line.

We drive to Philadelphia Friday, stopping in Media to visit some of Emaad's college friends, and arrive at out hotel, which is about 10 minutes from where the race will start in Pennypack Park. Pasta dinner at an Olive Garden across the street from the hotel is followed by a visit to a grocery store around the corner to get some items for breakfast (and TastyKakes to bring home) round out our evening.

Uber Hans entertains at the start.
He showed up on the course later.

At the Start

A quick ten minute drive gets us to Pennypack Park and a parking spot on the street a three minute walk to the start.  We get our bibs and shirts and claim some space on the lawn by the start-finish line. I dressed on the prediction that the morning would be cool. but as we wait for the 50-mile runners to start it is clear that the day won't be chilly.  I change from a long sleeve shirt to a short sleeve one and remove my buff.

We watch the 50-mile runners off at 0730 and at 0800 we are off.  The flat beginning narrows down, and we mostly walk single or double file.  As the field spreads out I try to keep up with Emaad, but he is a man on a mission and takes off.  I had forgotten that he said he was going to try to run quickly.  I plod on.

Pennypack Creek.

The course is a bit different than when we ran it in 2019, and seems to be significantly less hilly.  I'm mostly running alone, but I chat, as I am wont to due, with any runners that I catch up with or who catch up with me.

Despite the rain earlier in the week, the course is not particularly muddy, with only an occasion spot or a small puddle on some of the sections of trail along the creek.

Even though it has been five years since running the race last, the trails are pretty familiar.

The first aid station (about mile 4.5) is well stocked with the usual ultra food of cookies, salty things and candy, but also with freshly fried bacon and grilled cheese sandwiches. I joke with the volunteers that while the bacon is excellent, it would be even better if there was chocolate to dip it in.

Flowers.

Team Father - Daughter

About mile 14, or a couple of miles from the end of the first loop, I come upon a man and a younger woman running together on the paved section of the trail.  A glance at their bibs reveals that they are in the 50-mile race.  It turns out that they are Rob and Anna, and he is her father.  Originally Anna's mother was going to run with her, but an injury forced her to drop out, and the ever-accommodating race director Stephan allowed Rob to take her place.  This is Anna's first ultra and she is concerned about making the cutoff at the end of the second loop (50-mile runners have to run three loops, including a mini-loop, to the two loops of 50K runners).  Rob is an experienced ultrarunner, with a 100-miler and two 100Ks to his credit and does not seem as concerned.  I express confidence that they will be fine as well.

Back to the start-finish, I head out on the second loop while they stop by their drop bags.  It isn't long before they catch up to me and it is a chance to re-tell my oft-told tales to new ears.

In the meantime I have texted Emaad to ascertain his lead over me.  He replies and seems to be about 15 to 20 minutes ahead.

I mention my fear of necrotizing fasciitis - along with that of ticks and poison ivy - and hit the jackpot! Rob is a military doctor, and has treated cases of the flesh-eating bacterial infection.  He provides advice on ways to reduce the risk of getting it.

The trail along Pennypack Creek.

We come to the turnoff for them to do the mini-loop and I go on.

After several more miles Anna catches up with me without Rob.  She has decided that she needs to assure making the second loop cutoff and has pushed on.  She passes me and is soon gone.

Levitating to the finish.

I go on too.  Emaad texts that he finished in 6:57.  I reply that I have another two or three miles to go.

Soon the finish is in sight and I see Emaad ready to take pictures. Feeling frisky, I hop into the air, then run to the finish, crossing the line in 7:38.  I collect my Wetterhaus for being first in my age group (and last, and only) and seek out Stephan for a picture with the race director.  I get a bratwurst and potato salad to ear and head back to our chair.

Next to us, Rob is seated.  I ask him if he intends to continue.  He confirms that, as he prepares to head out on his third loop.  He has only a few minutes to spare, but experiences runner that he is, knows he does not need to rush.  We cheer him on as he heads out.

Results

I finish in 7:38:18, good for 153/181 overall, 104/118 males and 1/1 in my age group.  I'm the oldest finisher. I'm also four and a half minutes faster than five year ago, but the may largely be due to the course being easier, the weather better, and not lingering at the aid stations.  

Age group Wetterhaus award with
RD Stephan Weiss.

Emaad finishes 45 minutes faster than five years ago.

And Anna and Rob? Rob catches up with her somewhere on the third loop and they finish the 50-miler together in 12:28.

Swag: zipper shirt, Wetterhaus, medal, hat and bib.

 

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. 

Rosaryville Veterans Day 50K - November 11, 2023

Jeanne sings the National Anthem while Justin holds the flag.

Return to Rosaryville

I last ran the Rosaryville Veterans Day 50K five years ago (race report here). Returning is a bit of a last minute decision, delaying registration until I'm certain that the weather will be pleasant. Since I wasn't planning to run it, I haven't done any organized training, but figure that the DC Road Runners 20-miler on September 24, along with my usual weekly running, is adequate. 

Jon and Stephanie
with Rebecca in front (obscured) 

Only after registering do I discover that the course has changed from the course I ran seven times previously. That course was notoriously short, likely 29 miles rather than 31.1 miles. But now the course is much closer to the 31.1 miles that equal 50K. The difference comes from replacing the .7 mile run on the park road to the finish with 2.25 miles on the 3-loop peremeter trail to the finish.  

In addition, there are now cutoffs.  There is an intermediate cutoff of 5:20 to start the third loop (about mile 21.6) and an overall 8 hour cutoff to finish.  I email the race director and he says they are hard cu-offs designed to save the volunteers from having to put in an even longer day. I understand, but have concerns about making them, particularly the final cutoff.

Running with Friends

At the start I meet Caroline and Stephanie and Jon, and Stephanie's friend Rebecca.  Caroline is her usual outgoing self, talking with old friends and making new ones.  Staphanie is there as a training run for a 100-miler in January, as is Rebecca.

In the first loop
(Photo by J. Valentine)

The five of us start together and stay together thru the first aid station.  On the way Jon takes an easy fall and is quickly up unhurt. I deliver my usual quip, "It isn't a trail run unless you fall down or get lost."

Jon tells how he fostered a dog, and then would up adopting it.

I figure if I stay with this group I'll make the cut-offs as they are all experienced ultra - and 100 mile - runners and I tell them of my fear of the cutoffs which they pretty much waive off  as unfounded.  Still, I am concerned that my usual "fly and die" running method could fail me.

As part of my plan to conserve time I do not linger at the first aid station. Grab some potato chips and cookies and keep moving, walking while eating.

Caroline comes with me while the other three linger.  I figure if I stay ahead of them I'm in good shape. The sun starts to break through the bit of overcast and the forest turns to yellow-gold.  The two of us exchange trail talk, and it isn't long before the leaders of the 20K race, who started a half hour after us, come flying by.

We reach the second aid station at the point where we entered the loop and I repeat my grab and go technique.  Caroline lingers, and it is the last I see of her during the day.

Not an aid station

Chasing the Clock

I've taken a few pictures during the first loop, but time for lingering is over. I run with Rebecca and a couple of other runners. One expresses concern that while the pre-race packet said the two-loop cutoff was 5:20, the race director announced it as 5:15 at his pre-race brief.

The course is single track, mostly in the woods, with a couple of crossings of a grassy power line right of way.  It rolls up and down and has a generous amount of fallen leaves to require one to be alert for hidden roots.

The cool temperatures at the start led me to wear my harlequin tights as they are fairly comfortable even when the weather warms up, as it does today.  By the second loop I had removed my outer shirt and soon enough had pushed up the long sleeves of the first shirt. But chasing cutoffs allows no time to stop to remove the tights.

The tights are distinctive and I get several complements from runners. Always on the prowl for new people to tell old stories to, I tell how they were made for me by Hall of Fame ultrarunner Eric Clifton, for whom Hoka Cliftons are named.

A little over between the two aid stations the leader of the 50K flies by. He finishes in 4:48, only 12 minutes slower than it takes me to complete two loops.

Having completed two loops, I now need to go the quarter loop to get to the start of the third and final loop. It seems to go on forever with the clock ticking closer to the cutoff. Rebecca is confident that we will make it but I'm not, so I push on.

The first, third and fifth aid station.
Bacon and pireogies the latter two visits.

Finally, at about 5:12 I make it. In response to an inquiry the volunteers there say they don't know what the cutoff is.  As I go past, the race director appears and I tell him of the discrepency in the cutoff times. Since I'm already on my way, I don't hear his response. But six runners were behind me, and three finished in over eight hours, so I suppose the cutoff was not as strictly enforced as I feared.

Into the third loop I continue to consult my GPS device and try to calculate what pace I must maintian to finish in 8 hours.  It holds steady in the 17 minute/mile range and then gradually starts to creep upward, meaning I'm going faster that the necessary pace.  

It is reassuring, but I don't let up. Aid stations are still grab and go, but for the first aid station, that means freshly fried bacon on the second loop and bacon and pierogies on the third instead of chips and cookies.

The race is run counterclockwise and there are small groups of mountain bikers riding clockwise.  With the exception of an encounter at one blind turn, it gives runners and bikers a good chance to see each other. Both groups of trail users are polite and take turns giving the other the right of way.  I encounter one group of riders three times.

 

Running to the camera
(photo by J. Valentine)

Finish

Leaving the final aid station (mile 29) I have an hour to finish the final quarter loop of about two miles.  While I'm now pretty confident about finishing in under eight hours I keep up the pace. I remain a bit ahead of Rebecca and Marvin. 

Only when I make the left turn off the trail and onto the field  with the finish in sight, do I ease up, stop running and begin walking.  Rebecca runs past, then Marvin.  A few people cheer as I near the finish line, and I run the last few yards, as one doesn't want the photographer to capture visual proof of walking. Across the mats I run right at the photographer seated in a chair as if about to run into him, veering off at the last second.

A volunteer removes the chip from my shoe while I sit in a chair to recover.

I get a bit of finish line food, negotiate a trade of the 50K finisher's travel mug for a 20K beer glass and head off to Bojangles for a spicy chicken sandwich before driving home. 

Results

I finish in 7:37:55 (chip time; 7:38:06 gun time), 54 of 60 overall; and first, last and only in my age group at an average pace of 14:55/mile. Caroline is DFL at 8:16 but still good enough to be first military veteran female and first in her age group. There are eight DNFs, including Jon and Stephanie who complete two loops.

The timing mats at the entry to the loops give lap times and position for the runners after 0.7 mile. What's particularly remarkable is that finishing position was pretty much determined that early in the race.  With the exception of a runner who started late, no one's position at the finish is more than three places different from what it was less than a mile into the race, and most are within one or two positions. I was 52 entering the loops and finished 54.

My splits:          

The start to the loop: 7:11 (ET 0:7:11)

First loop: 2:08:21 (ET 2:15:31)   

Second loop:  2:21:26 (ET 4:36:57)

Third loop: 2:23:55 (ET 7:00:52)

Quarter loop to finish: 37:02 (ET 7:37:55)  

Swag:Buff, sticker, bib, pint glass, wrist band

Finger Lakes 50s 50K - June 24, 2023

We've Been Here Before

This is my third time running Finger Lakes 50s 50K, having done it it 2007 and last year (report here). Emaad is doing with me, having done the 25K in 2007.

He drives us up on Friday, we go directly to packet pickup at the race start/finish at the Potomac Group Campground in Finger Lakes National Forest, then take the 20 minute drive to my Watkins Glen house, where we greet Sandy, who came up a few days earlier, and go out to eat.  It is Fish Fry Friday, a weekly western New York tradition, but both of us choose alternatives, rather than risk digestive discontent the night before a race.

Nevertheless, sleep for both of us is unsettled, a normal occurrence before a race, and matches the  weather, which threatens showers, thundershowers or rain.

Up at 0500, we have a bite to eat, and drive to the forest under gloomy skies.  We park along Potomac Road as instructed, walk to the campground to check-in and walk back to the road for the 0630 start.

First Loop

View to the southeast from Burnt Hill Trail early on.

The race director gives some last minute instructions, including the traditional "don't let the cows out" admonition with the instruction that unless the next runner's hand is on the gate, don't be polite, just close and lock it.

Don't let the cows out.
(Photo by E. Burki)

We head down Potomac Road, allowing the 68 runners in the 50K (from nine states and one foreign country) and the 38 50-milers (eight states) to spread out. Forty-four (?) 25K runners (four states) will start later. A right turn puts us on single track, including through some high grass (I immediately remember I forgot bug spray to fend off ticks), then across a road and through a pasture (without any cows). I snap a picture of what on clear days is a good view, but today is obscured by clouds. 

We run down unpaved Mark Smith Road and at nearly 4 miles there is water-only aid, manned by a volunteer recording bib numbers. A right turn off the road (map of the national forest here) puts us on the Gorge Trail. For nearly the next ten miles the course is generally uphill until the final aid station with about 3 miles to go for a total of 16.5 miles.

So now you are thinking: 50K is 31.1 miles, so one loop should be 15.5 miles, not 16.5 miles. But on this course each loop is 16.5 miles. First, in ultras, the distance is whatever the race director says it is. Secondly, since this course is used for both the 50K and the 50M, three loops of 16.5 makes 49.5 miles, so the additional "baby loop" to get to 50 miles only has to be a half mile.  For those doing the 50K, the additional nearly two miles is a free bonus.

Humid on the first loop.

It is a prototypical eastern trail: rocky, rooty, twisty and up and down. It requires a bit of adjustment from our Grand Canyon Rim-to-River journey two weeks earlier. Fortunately the trail is mostly dry and the stream crossings are not a challenge. The views are - well, views of the inside of a forest. Perhaps spoiled by the magnificent vistas of the Grand Canyon, the trail lacks interest for Emaad and me.

Once in a while there is a chance for a view, but the misty weather takes that away. We experience a couple of light showers, but they are not heavy and the forest canopy catches most of them. Grey clouds are not scenic.  The air clears a bit on the second loop, but not enough to provide sweeping sights.

But you have to play the hand you are dealt (folding is not an option), so we go on, doing the gorge loop, then up the Interloken Trail to the Ravine Trail - steep downhill followed by steep uphill, a bit of Picnic Area Road past another volunteer checking bibs, then onto the Backbone Trail. It is a largely straight and smooth horse trail, but we don't come across any equestrians, and it is a chance to do some actual sustained running.

Me and cows.
(Photo by E. Burki)

We arrive at the final aid station and go thru a gate into a pasture with cows. Exiting the pasture, I realize that I have lost my Arizona Trail handkerchief. I figure I can look for it on the second loop.

By now we have been passed by the leaders of the 25K race. No matter. We turn south onto the Interloken Trail, run on the various boardwalks there (being careful of where they are slippery, and occasionally bouncy). We skirt a couple of ponds and shortly arrive at the finish area in 4:19.

Emaad and I go to our drop bags. He changes socks and shoes while I change my shirt and grab another handkerchief.

Second Loop

 We have been running for miles with a local husband-wife couple since early in the first loop. They work at wineries and we chat about wine. One works at Lakewood Vineyards, which makes a Lemberger that Sandy is particularly fond of. We get an advance review of the 2022 vintage, which has not yet been released, but is reportedly good, with overtones of white pepper.

Juvenile Eastern Newt on Mark Smith Road.

Headed down Mark Smith Road the second time Emaad spots an bright orange gummi on the ground.  I see the same thing as a child's toy.  We are both wrong, as the Eastern Newt eft takes some steps away from us.

At one of the aid stations the volunteer checking bibs tells Emaad he had been recorded as being a DNF at the finish area. Clearly that isn't the case and the volunteer says he will radio in a correction.

Someplace along the South Slope Trail I find a timing chip that has somehow torn off the back of a runner's bib. Some runner isn't going to be recorded as finishing. In about a mile we reach an aid station and I turn it in.  As I do, a runner comes in with a well worn bib and says it may be his. Sure enough, the bib and chip numbers match and the aid station workers give it to him.

I'm not enjoying the uphill slog again and I repeatedly urge Emaad to go on.  Finally he does, and I'm left to go on myself.  I don't mind as I'm mostly walking, but I do urge myself to run on the Backbone Trail. 

Looking west in the afternoon. Still misty and cloudy.

Since it is straight I play games with myself, looking ahead to a point that I will run to.  Then, as I approach it, I'll switch to another point further along.  It's a under-promise, over-deliver strategy.  

Every now and then I'm passed by z 50-mile runner on their third loop. Ultimately, five of them will finish their race before I've finished mine.

Approaching the final aid station I search the ground for my missing handkerchief without luck. I enquire at the aid station but no one has turned one in. And a search passing through the pasture is likewise futile.

I go on the last few miles, pushing a bit to finish under 9:20. Approaching the finish, I see the clock in the high 9:17s. I sprint hoping to be under 9:18, but just fail, finishing in 9:18:01.  Emaad was waiting for me, having finished in 9:00:29.

By the Numbers

My splits were 4:19 and 4:59. I was 60 of 68 overall, 35 of 38 males, and first (and only) in my age group. I was the oldest runner by four years. 

Swag: bib, shirt, glass, wooden medal.