The good news - it's not raining on Saturday. The bad news - the ground has been saturated for a month and it rained on Friday. The takeaway - the Seneca Creek Greenway Trail Marathon & 50K promises to be a mudfest. It will be a promise fulfilled.
Starting Out
 |
| Staying warm pre-race (Photo by E. Burki) |
We walk back to the start, exchange greetings with Don, Michele and Glenn, and others that we know. Someone sings the National Anthem and we are off down the park road, past the park cars for the turn onto the southbound trail.
Well-placed near the back-of-the-pack we are assured of a trail that where it is muddy, is well churned into a slippery brown amorphous mess.
Mud
The section of the Greenway Trail south- (or outbound) south of Riffle Ford Road and to Germantown Road stays in the bottomland near the creek and accordingly is particularly muddy. Michele splashes straight through the muck, explaining that trying to avoid it by running on the edges risks slipping of those sloped surfaces. There is great deal of logic to this, but nevertheless I try my best to stay out of that part of the mud.
 |
| Glen, Emaad and I approaching Riffle Ford Road (Photo by T. Bryant) |
On the other side of Germantown Road the trail veers away from the creek to climb onto a ridge, until dropping down next to the creek approaching Black Rock Road at Black Rock Mill. From there it is less than two miles to the aid station at Route 28 (mile 7.3) after another ridge climb through a pine grove. We tell Don that since he us running the race we miss him being the aid station director for his particularly witty food themes and signs leading to the aid station. (See my report on the 2012 race for examples.)
More Mud
After getting the usual potato chips and cookies I head across the bridge to get to the Seneca Bluffs Trail to continue south. By now, Emaad, Glen, Michele, Don and I are pretty much traveling together, sometimes leapfrogging each other or falling behind. We are joined by Stephanie and Jon. We are not pack of young wolves. More like a gray wolf pack. Our average age is over 59. But we are still out here, playing in the mud.
One might suspect that the ridge trail, away from the creek would not be too muddy, but that is often not the case. The trail is on the side of the ridge, so drainage and seepage from the higher parts create plenty of water to make mud and there are a few places where intermittent streams contain water.
Cold Water
And then, after a particularly muddy stretch we crest a small rise, and make a left turn to the banks of the ironically named Dry Seneca Creek. Perhaps when the creek was named in the 19th century it would get dry, but acres of paved surface from roads and development assure that there is water for it year-round. And Friday's rain has it full and fast flowing.
As we all stop to watch runners ahead crossing the creek, and get mentally prepared for it, I borrow a trekking pole from Stephanie to steady myself. With my other hand I hold onto Michele for mutual support. The water is just over my knee and moving swiftly. It is turbid and hard to tell what the footing is like from step to step. The trekking pole is useful for probing the way across.
Meanwhile Emaad is crossing while he is taking a selfie video of his crossing. He slips but recovers. Don puts large trash bags on each leg but the water overtops the bags and he crosses the stream dragging the water-filled bags to the other side. He empties the bags on the other side.
The good part of the water crossing is that the mud has been wiped from our shoes, but the price we pay is how cold are feet are. Don takes off, telling me that he has to run fast because of how cold his feet are. He has a change of shoes and socks awaiting him in his drop bag at the Berryville aid station a mile or two ahead.
When Emaad and I reach River Road at mile 14, he says his sock has gotten creased under his toes and he sits to adjust it. When he takes his shoe off there is nothing the matter with the sock. Instead, there is a ball of mud under his toes. He removes it and the problem is resolved.
Aid and More Aid
We cross over Seneca Creek on the River Road bridge and head up Seneca Road to the trail head for the Seneca Greenway Trail to go north. Just before reaching it we come to a very unofficial aid station. An organized runners group, which shall go unnamed to protect the not-innocent, is grilling quesadillas, and has the usual runner's choices of cookies and salty items. But they are also offering beer, and for the cold, adventuresome or daring, liquor. Later Don tells how he took advantage of the aid to warm his cold, numb toes with rum & coke and a beer chaser. I pass up the opportunity.
After about a mile of up and down we come to Hookers Creek. It isn't anywhere as high as Dry Seneca Creek. I try to put plastic newspaper bags over my shoes, but they are too small to fit. (Next time, try them on beforehand.) I pick a course over some rocks and shoals and manage to keep one foot dry. Emaad, knowing he has dry shoes at the aid station 100 yards, ahead charges across the stream.
The Berryville Aid Station is well stocked, and in particular has chocolate-covered bacon.
Don and Emaad change shoes and socks, but I elect to keep going with my muddy ones. As the next stretch runs along the creek, mud is inevitable.
Sure enough, it is. I'm starting to feel a bit weary from the slip-sliding in the slop. Emaad catches up to me good naturedly complaining that I had left him behind. On the other hand, he didn't have much trouble catching me.
Relentless Forward Progress (aka Death March)
We go on, through mud, slipping and sliding. At one point there is a small rivulet to cross but I slip down the bank and wind up sitting on the sloppy bank.
Soon enough we get back to the Route 28 aid station (mile 19.5). Emaad is waiting for a grilled cheese but I walk on ahead, having caught up to Michele. I keep walking, Michele goes on ahead, and Emaad finally catches me at Black Rock Mill where we head onto the Seneca Ridge Trail. The 7.3 mile stretch between the Route 28 and Riffle Ford Road aid stations is seemingly interminable, with plenty of up and down. We are pretty much alone and we trudge along, stopping to examine the deer skull display that has been trail side for years. (See the 2014 report for an picture of fewer of them at the time.)
A Choice Denied
As we plod along we debate our chances of making it to the decision point at mile 27.7 by the cutoff time. This is the time where one can either run about a quarter mile or so to the finish for the marathon (actually about 28 miles, not the traditional 26.2 mile marathon distance) or go around Clopper Lake for another 3 or 4 miles for the 50K.
Neither of us can remember what is the cutoff time, however. We face an existential question - if we make it in our state, do we really want to spend another hour circling the lake in the mud? On the other hand, we don't want to have quitter's regret the next day. If we miss the cutoff, the decision is out of our hands. We try to recall the cutoff time but cannot agree. But what we do agree on is that we are increasingly unlikely to make it.
Finally we reach the Riffle Ford aid station, and volunteers tell us that we have missed the cutoff ahead. Actually, it isn't even a close call. We are at least 25 minutes late. When we reach the decision in a half mile, volunteers point us toward the finish. They get no argument from us.
Finishes
There are 119 50K and 115 marathon finishers. I finish in 7:56:22; Emaad is 8 seconds ahead of me. It was a tough day under hard conditions. In February I was 75 minutes faster at the longer Pemberton Trail 50K.
Don makes the cutoff by 3 minutes and finishes the 50K in 8:39:50. Stephanie and Jon miss the cutoff by 5 minutes but the volunteers tell them they can go on anyway. They decline, as they are giving a marathon runner a ride home and don't want to force her to wait for them and finish in 7:35:05. Michele finishes the marathon in 7:43:39 and Glen comes in at 8:28:19.
After getting the usual potato chips and cookies I head across the bridge to get to the Seneca Bluffs Trail to continue south. By now, Emaad, Glen, Michele, Don and I are pretty much traveling together, sometimes leapfrogging each other or falling behind. We are joined by Stephanie and Jon. We are not pack of young wolves. More like a gray wolf pack. Our average age is over 59. But we are still out here, playing in the mud.
One might suspect that the ridge trail, away from the creek would not be too muddy, but that is often not the case. The trail is on the side of the ridge, so drainage and seepage from the higher parts create plenty of water to make mud and there are a few places where intermittent streams contain water.
Cold Water
 |
| Approaching Dry Seneca Creek (photo by E. Burki) |
As we all stop to watch runners ahead crossing the creek, and get mentally prepared for it, I borrow a trekking pole from Stephanie to steady myself. With my other hand I hold onto Michele for mutual support. The water is just over my knee and moving swiftly. It is turbid and hard to tell what the footing is like from step to step. The trekking pole is useful for probing the way across.
Meanwhile Emaad is crossing while he is taking a selfie video of his crossing. He slips but recovers. Don puts large trash bags on each leg but the water overtops the bags and he crosses the stream dragging the water-filled bags to the other side. He empties the bags on the other side.
The good part of the water crossing is that the mud has been wiped from our shoes, but the price we pay is how cold are feet are. Don takes off, telling me that he has to run fast because of how cold his feet are. He has a change of shoes and socks awaiting him in his drop bag at the Berryville aid station a mile or two ahead.
When Emaad and I reach River Road at mile 14, he says his sock has gotten creased under his toes and he sits to adjust it. When he takes his shoe off there is nothing the matter with the sock. Instead, there is a ball of mud under his toes. He removes it and the problem is resolved.
Aid and More Aid
 |
Emaad fords Hookers Branch (mile 15)
|
 |
Chocolate-covered bacon
at Berryville AS (mile 15)
|
The Berryville Aid Station is well stocked, and in particular has chocolate-covered bacon.
Don and Emaad change shoes and socks, but I elect to keep going with my muddy ones. As the next stretch runs along the creek, mud is inevitable.
Sure enough, it is. I'm starting to feel a bit weary from the slip-sliding in the slop. Emaad catches up to me good naturedly complaining that I had left him behind. On the other hand, he didn't have much trouble catching me.
Relentless Forward Progress (aka Death March)
We go on, through mud, slipping and sliding. At one point there is a small rivulet to cross but I slip down the bank and wind up sitting on the sloppy bank.
 |
The iconic deer skulls with holiday caps.
|
A Choice Denied
As we plod along we debate our chances of making it to the decision point at mile 27.7 by the cutoff time. This is the time where one can either run about a quarter mile or so to the finish for the marathon (actually about 28 miles, not the traditional 26.2 mile marathon distance) or go around Clopper Lake for another 3 or 4 miles for the 50K.
 |
| Typical footing |
Finally we reach the Riffle Ford aid station, and volunteers tell us that we have missed the cutoff ahead. Actually, it isn't even a close call. We are at least 25 minutes late. When we reach the decision in a half mile, volunteers point us toward the finish. They get no argument from us.
Finishes
There are 119 50K and 115 marathon finishers. I finish in 7:56:22; Emaad is 8 seconds ahead of me. It was a tough day under hard conditions. In February I was 75 minutes faster at the longer Pemberton Trail 50K.
Don makes the cutoff by 3 minutes and finishes the 50K in 8:39:50. Stephanie and Jon miss the cutoff by 5 minutes but the volunteers tell them they can go on anyway. They decline, as they are giving a marathon runner a ride home and don't want to force her to wait for them and finish in 7:35:05. Michele finishes the marathon in 7:43:39 and Glen comes in at 8:28:19.
 |
| At the finish (Photo by B. Jacobs) |
 |
| Colby examines the swag: Car magnet, plastic mug, bib |
