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.

Grand Canyon Rim to River - June 10, 2023

Good advice

 Preparation

Our original plan was to run from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon down to the Colorado River and then up to the North Rim, and return the next day. Severe winter weather damaged the North Kaibab Trail and the need for repairs closed the last couple of miles of the trail below the rim.  In addition, the rock slides that damaged the trail also destroyed the water line to the Grand Canyon Hotel on the North Rim, closing it until well after our planned arrival on June 10.

We decided on doing a rim-to-river run from the South Rim instead, as we had flights and the hard-to-get South Rim hotel reservations in place, and it would still give us a change to see the canyon. Deferral risks never doing it.

Having no experience in running in the Grand Canyon, and only only one brief visit to the South Rim in 2017 we turn to others for advice as to preparation.

Ready to go!

Our Arizona friend Cathy has run rim-to-rim and rim-to-river in the past, and she enthusiastically agrees to join us and recruit others for the adventure. She provides invaluable advice as to preparation, including clothing, hydration, nutrition and equipment. I supplement that by joining several Facebook groups dedicated to hiking and running rim-to-rim in the Grand Canyon.

On South Kaibab.
(Photo by E. Burki)

Frequent running partner Emaad and I add some hill work to prepare for the descending and ascending that the run will entail - 4860 feet down South Kaibab Trail, and 4460 feet up Bright Angel Trail, according to the National Park Service, but there really anything we can do to replicate the Grand Canyon. We run once at Sugarloaf Mountain, and I spend some time on a treadmill at 20% incline, but it is more like a pro forma effort rather than a serious one.

The other parts of the preparation are serious. June 10 is summer at the Grand Canyon and temperatures at or above 100 at the bottom are the norm. So hydration involves a backpack filled with 56 ounces of Gatorade and two water bottles, each with 16 ounces of water for the start. Fuel is a waist belt filled with gels, shot blocs and various sorts of bars totaling 2000 calories. A long sleeve shirt, to provide warmth at the start (it can be chilly before sunrise at 7000 feet), then coverage from the sun later, and something to wet down during the climb out. A cooling towel, hat and handkerchief, to block the sun and to provide for wetting down for cooling. Trekking poles, to transfer weight from the legs to the arms during the ascent. Gaiters, to keep sand and dirt out of the shoes.

Hard to see South Kaibab switchbacks.
(Photo by E. Burki)

Down South Kaibab

Jim, with Cathy beside him, pick up Emaad, Kevin and I outside Maswik Lodge at 0445 and drives us to a trail near the turnoff near Yaki Point Road (closed to vehicles). Native American music plays in the car on the way, surprisingly both soothing and appropriate. We exit the vehicle and thank him, and walk the quarter mile or so to the South Kaibab Trailhead. The temperature is about 40 degrees, but doesn't feel particularly chilly.

Obligatory photos taken and restrooms used, we head down at 0504. I've brought a headlamp, but there is no need for it in the predawn light. We immediately head down a series of switchbacks as we move away from the rim. The trail is broad and smooth, without any of the rocks and roots that are endemic on eastern trials, but with steps that make developing a running rhythm difficult. Stopping to take photographs also disrupts the running, but we are here to experience the canyon, not to race.

We pass a Park Ranger headed up.  He had gone down in response to a call about a women in distress but whatever was the problem has been resolved.  Later, on Bright Angel Trail, we see signs warning hikers and tourists, "down is optional, up is mandatory."

O'Neill Point.

South Kaibab does not disappoint in that regard.  The descent is along a ridge into the canyon, so there are views in all directions. Ahead and below is O'Neill Butte, and then we skirt around it (about mile 2) and continue down. In another mile we are at Skeleton Point where we pause for more photos before descending another series of switchbacks.

Cathy and Emaad take in the
view on South Kaibab.

I chat with a hiker ascending the trail.  He is wearing a shirt remembering his deceased father, and tells me he has hiked down the trail in his memory, as it was something he loved to do.

A mile and a half later (and 900 feet lower) we arrive at The Tipoff where we take advantage of the toilet facilities. We chat we hikers whom we have been leapfrogging since leaving the rim. 

My legs are feeling wobbly. I'm not feeling dizzy or otherwise exhibiting signs of heat-related or stress issues and am not have trouble moving, but when I stop I'm having trouble balancing.  I take out my trekking poles which I was saving for the ascent, figuring they will be useful now.

Kevin takes off, and we will see him next at Phantom Ranch. Emaad and Cathy are pulling away from me, but the keep an eye out for me and occasionally wait for me to catch up to them.

Read the last sentence: "42 men . . ."

We finally spot the Colorado River far below, and marvel as to how we will get there.  But another series of steeper descents and switchbacks brings us toward the tunnel to the Kaibab Bridge.

Emaad and Cathy wait for me there, but before I reach them on the switchbacks, I slowly lose my balance and gently fall/sit on one of the steps.  I try to use my poles to stand, fail, and try and fail again. A hiker comes by and offers a hand to pull me up, which I gladly accept.

A Community Helps 

We were not the first here.

More picture taking and we cross the bridge. I stop to take pictures of Native American ruins and a sign commemorating the construction of the bridge.

Forty yards later I see Cathy sitting on the ground and blood running down her shin.  She had fallen and a rock had sliced an inch-long cut in her leg.  Emaad takes out his first aid kit, applies antiseptic and a gauze pad to cover the wound and stop the bleeding. But he doesn't have any tape to hold it in place.  We ask a passing hiker and he provides a roll of elastic open weave tape. Emaad wraps it around Cathy's leg, and then discovers that he left his mini-Swiss Army knife in his room. He tries to rip it with his teeth but that does not work.  We ask the next hiker if he has a knife and he produces one. First aid successfully completed, we go on to Phantom Ranch (mile 7.5), arriving about 0910, where we meet up with Kevin.  He has taken a soak in the Colorado River before going to Phantom Ranch.

Approaching South Kaibab Bridge.

After the traditional lemonade there, and spending several minutes sitting and snacking, I mail pre-written and stamped postcards so they can be carried out by mule (the only way to supply the camp). We top up our water and I add a lemonade to one of my handhelds. Cathy notes that the temperature is 90 degrees, an observation greeted with relief, as summer temperatures there routinely exceed 100 degrees. On the way down the trail, Kevin steps off the trail to soak in Bright Angel Creek.

We turn right to cross the other bridge across the Colorado and get on the River Trail.  Kevin takes off. (We won't see him again until we are having a bite to eat hours later at Maswik Lodge and he comes in clean, dressed and with his wife and son).

Cathy has warned us that the River Trail is largely level and sandy. I meditate that the river had deposited the sand there when its flow was free, before completion of the Glen Canyon Dam in 1963. We turn up a bit (every step up now is one less later, I think), but then descend again, meaning we will have to reclimb that bit again.  There are rafts on the river, and some are pulled to the shore below us.

Mules have the right of way.
(Photo by C. Blessing.)

After about a half mile we step aside for a mule train, headed by a pair of wranglers, on its way to Phantom Ranch. The mules ignore us and pass by.

Up Bright Angel

Finally (about mile 9.5) we reach the River Resthouse.  We refill our water, soak our hats, towels and sleeves in Pipe Creek and chat with the ranger stationed there.

Now it is time to go up.  My legs have entirely recovered - going up is easier than going down. Up we go. Bright Angel Trail follows the Pipe Creek drainage and crosses the creek several times, with us wetting ourselves down at every opportunity. 

(An aside here - why is this Bright Angel Trail?  Bright Angel Creek is at least a mile upstream and on the other side of the Colorado River. Bright Angel Trail follows Pipe Creek and Garden Creek. The trail that follows Bright Angel Creek is the North Kaibab Trail.) 

Every time we look up, the rim looks no closer, even after we have climbed 2000 feet in elevation. And it looks impossible to get there. There is a large red wall looming near the rim and yet another wall closer to us. Eleven miles in a series of switchbacks gets us up the first wall, and a steady uphill allows us to climb 500 feet over the next mile.

Up Bright Angel.

The next mile (only 200 feet of climb) gets us to Havasupai Gardens. As always today, we refill our water, soak our hats, towels and shirts, grab a bite and go on.

Since the trail follows the creek drainage, there are buttes are either side and the views are not as spectacular as those from South Kaibab Trail. Very good, but one has been spoiled by the earlier views, further enhanced by the early morning light. 

I've been lagging behind Emaad and Cathy and they have been waiting for me to catch up. Over the next 1.75 we ascend another 950 feet, including a series of switchbacks, to reach Three Mile Rest. The thermometer there reads 80 degrees at  about 1315. Gaining altitude (2300 feet since River Rest) is lowering the temperature. There is a pavilion, toilets and water there and I sit down.  A hiker strikes up a conversation about my Leki trekking poles, a brand he highly praises. Emaad grows impatient and is concerned that Cathy may be anxious if Kevin tells Jim about her fall and bloodied leg. I tell him to go on and not wait for me.

Bright Angel Trail.
(Photo by E. Burki.)

By now we are sharing the trail with day hikers. Cathy was playing "bad hiker bingo," filling squares with "person in flip-flops," "person without shirt," "person without water," and the like when she added a new one: a hiker blasting music from a Bluetooth speaker attached to his pack. 

Upward for another 1.5 miles, and more switchbacks (climb another 1000 feet), to One and a Half Mile Rest (16.3 miles at 1405). As always, refill the water, wet down, no hurry, look around at the views, play bad hiker bingo.

Almost done!

I fall in with a trio of hiker/campers and we exchange stories in mutual admiration.  I tell my usual well worn running stories (Emaad isn't their to roll his eyes at another rendition of "Ken's Greatest Hits") and they tell of their love of hiking and camping.  It almost makes me want to camp in the back country, but only if I could get someone to carry all my gear, pitch my tent and cook my food. And that would defeat the wonder of camping in a place far from others.

The last hour to the rim (another 1000 feet of ascent and more switchbacks) goes quickly. Stops to look back at the trail far below continue to amaze at the beauty of the canyon and the wonder of the journey - I was down there! How was that possible!

On the rim I find Emaad and Cathy (they were about 10 minutes ahead) and we recruit a tourist to take our picture at the iconic Bright Angel Trailhead rock. 

By the Numbers

About 18.1 miles in 10:07, according to my GPS.  NPS official distances: From South Kaibab Trailhead to Phantom Ranch, 7.4 miles. Descent from trailhead to the river, 4780 feet, then ascent of about 100 feet to Phantom Ranch. From there to Bright Angel Trailhead, 9.9 miles, ascent of 4460 feet.

My calves were trashed on Sunday, but still walked a couple of miles along the rim trail from Powell Point back to the village. On Monday ran 3.7 miles at Buffalo Park in Flagstaff.

Rim to River Complete!

(Photo by C. Blessing.)

Farm Park Challenge Marathon - May 6, 2023

A beautiful day for a run. 

We Live in an Imperfect World

Less than a minute into the first 5.1 mile out-and back-lap of the Farm Park Challenge Emaad says he forgot his water bottle. Which immediately reminds me that I did likewise.  We both retrieve our bottles at the beginning of the second lap.

Uncharacteristically, Emaad lags behind me on the first lap. As we pass each other on the out-and-back, he tells me that he isn't feeling well and will likely only do two laps.  In the second lap he says he'll do a third, and in the third, catches up with me.  But he knows his body and calls it a day after we finish the third lap together.

As I start to sweat on the second or third lap I'm reminded that I forgot to bring handkerchiefs to wipe the sweat off. My shirt will have to do.

Going to change my long-sleeve shirt at the end of the second lap I rummage in my bag and curse upon finding another long-sleeve shirt that I thought was a short-sleeve one when I packed it.  Fortunately I have another short sleeve shirt in the bag, but for some reason only packed one, rather than extra ones for changing on subsequent laps.

Who needs shoes if
you have ears and a tail?

Midway through the fourth lap I feel chafing on my left nipple. I didn't bring tape and don't have Vaseline along, so it could get worse. An inspired thought - I have lip balm with me. That works.

 Headed back on the fifth lap I spot a woman runner emerging from the woods. "It's a lot easier for you guys," she says as she heads onward.

At the end of the race I collect the beer glass that is the finishers' premium. But unlike previous years, there are no cans of beer to go with it. For whatever reason, the park hasn't granted the race the authority to hand out beer. But Mike offers me a non-alcoholic Athletic Brewing Upside Dawn and I sip it while sitting in his camp chair.

Bridges

The course has three small bridges to cross. Since the weather has been dry there isn't much water in the streams anyway, but the bridges do enable quick and dry crossings.  On the way inbound on one of the laps I notice flagging that indicates that the course wants the runners to go through the stream rather than take the bridge. I only see one person do that, and I use the bridge each time

First bridge

Second bridge

Third bridge

Stream crossing headed to the turn-around.

The Turnaround

The course has only only one small change from last year. The lap has been shortened by about 0.1 of a mile, making it marginally easier for those running the challenges. For the marathon, the final mini-lap has been lengthened accordingly. Also, the last bit of course veers left from Rock Creek Trail and crosses a small stream before the turn-around a hundred yards or so beyond.

Turnaround.

First lap by one of the fields.

Exceed Expectations

The challenge part of the Farm Park Challenge is to get through each 5.1 mile lap in less than an hour, then wait until the start of the next hour to run another lap in under an hour.  There are three challenges: three-, six- and ten-hours. The marathon does not require meeting the one hour per lap, pace, simply finishing 5 laps plus a bit of an extra out-and-back in ten hours.

I may be able to finish one lap in under an hour but that I could doing even three more is unlikely.  Although not necessary for the marathon I want to do the first lap under an hour. And I succeed - barely.  I get through the first lap in 59:51, a mere nine seconds to the good. (My subsequent laps are 64:56, 69: 28, 70:20 and 68:31, and 11:14 for the final .8 mile out-and-back.)

My finishing time is 5:44:27, good for 19 of 30 overall, 10 of 14 males and 1 of 2 in my age group. That is 40:53 faster than last year, when rain made the course muddy  It is only 2 minutes slower than 2021, on a slightly different, and likely slightly harder course.

Swag: shirt, glass, bib.