K E Swab: Boulder Field 50K - September 11, 2021

Boulder Field

Still Funny After All Those Times

Emaad and I at the start

"That's a dad joke!" the runner says after I tell the same joke for the third time to passing runners. "No," I reply, "that's a granddad joke."

Emaad is about ready to throttle me and we have only gone a few miles at the Boulder Field 50K. Each time we are passed by another group of runners I can't help but tell a joke that my grandson loves: "Why should you never run behind a car?" But I can't help myself. It's too good not to tell runners.

We started out with perfect weather that will persist the entire day. Trail conditions are not perfect, however. The remnants of Hurricane Ida dropped a significant amount of rain on Hickory Run State Park two weeks earlier and rain on Wednesday has left parts of the course wet.

And "wet" means that a half mile of gentle uphill around mile two means there is water slowly running down the single track of the trail. Some of the areas at the bottom of descents are boggy. It isn't really a question of if you will step in muddy water, but when. Just embrace the inner child and splash through.

Since the course is a figure eight we return to the start/finish at mile 12 and can change socks and shoes for the 18 mile second part. "Don't bother," a runner who has run the race previously says, "the second loop will be wet."

Hickory Run

Hickory Run with AS 1 and 2 on far side

After about five miles of up and down, we come to the Hickory Run crossing. Normally it would be on a wooden bridge, but Ida ripped the railings off the bridge and the park ranger has required that it be taped off with yellow caution tape. Crossing means splashing through the knee deep stream. The water is a bit cool, but it washes the mud off.

The first aid station (mile 5.1) is set up on the far side of the creek and the volunteers are frying bacon and making grilled cheese sandwiches, cut into quarters, along with having the usual cookies and other things junk food so loved by trial runners. Because of the pandemic, many of the items are pre-wrapped individual servings and the cooked items are set (mostly) in individual serving cups. I pry a grilled cheese open and stuff bacon into it and walk on. Emaad, still at the aid station calls me back, as I've headed in the wrong direction.

Trail Etiquette

"On your left," I say, the universal trail request that the slower runner ahead move to the right so someone can pass. On single track that may mean stepping off the trail briefly, or waiting for a place where one can move over.

But I'm surprised when the response is a snapped, ""I'm over as far as I'm going." I hold me sometimes hair trigger temper in check and maneuver around without saying anything. Emaad later tells me that the runner said the same thing to others who were trying to pass. It's a rare trail runner who is impolite, so this is a first. We will pay it back - in an appropriate way - hours later.

Lehigh River Valley Overlook View (Mile 8)

Trudging up a steep trail, I remark to a nearby runner that I'm going so slowly, that my GPS device no longer shows any pace for me. It's because the GPS only measures horizontal progress, he says, and ignores the vertical gain.

The Best Aid Station

Finishing the loop back to aid station 1 (aka aid station 2 (mile 9.9) approached from the opposite direction) there is a steep downhill with several switchbacks. As I've gotten older, all but the most gentle downhills, and pretty much any technical ones have started to become a greater concern and I am going slower and slower on them. I fear tumbling down them or worse still, imagine myself going over the edge and rolling down the incline. What used to be the mantra of walk the uphills and run the flats and downhills is now walk the uphills and downhills and run the flats. The survival instinct has overcome the competitive instinct.

Grilled cheese, bacon and fried potatoes at AS2

A short stretch on an unpaved park road takes us back to the first aid station. As an additional treat the volunteers are now frying potatoes in the bacon grease! I tell them that this is a better aid station than the first one. Puzzled, they point out that it is the same one. "But now there are potatoes cooked in bacon fat!" I point out. "The first station didn't have that."

Several runners decide that they will navigate the railingless foot bridge across the creek. And I follow suit. After going a few hundred yards I realize that I left my water bottle at the aid station and have to backtrack to get it. The aid station workers offer some more bacon which I willingly accept. Yup, the best aid station.

That says it all.

Shades of Death

In a short bit we are on the Shades of Death Trail, following a stream uphill. The trail is very rocky - more rock than dirt - but it is along a stream and takes us to a picturesque waterfall. We briefly lose the trail, but the course has been well marked and we spot a pink ribbon where we should be and reroute to it. In a bit we are done with the Shades of Death and reach aid station 3 (mile 12.5) at the start finish.

The highlight of Shades of Death Trail

Emaad changes shoes, I change my shirt and use the facilities and we head out for the second part of the course.

More Rocks, More Roots, More Water

We skirt Sand Spring Lake, follow the course through a disk golf course and a campground, and are back on a trail. And like most of the trails, it consists of rocks and roots, and in places, running water or mud. This part of the course has less elevation change (two-thirds of the elevation change is in the first 12 mile loop) but no less technical trails. We push on, looking for Aid Station 4 which my cheat sheet says we should have reached and cross under the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Finally, over a mile beyond where I had thought it would be, is the aid station.

Or Maybe the Best Aid Station

Approaching the aid station (mile 16.5) on the Stage Coach Road I call out to the volunteers, "Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses!" It's the right thing to say, as the volunteers swiftly produce a can of Montana 1 IPA that is shared (in individual cups, of course) amongst us. What is a beer from western Montana doing in the middle of Pennsylvania? We get the story - it involves a cross country trip - and after giving thanks, we are on our way down the Stage Coach Road, but just for a bit and soon turn off onto the rocky and rooty (well, that was no surprise) trail to head toward the Boulder Field.

Rocks, roots and trees most of the day

Boulder Field

And in a few miles, and more rocks and roots we reach the Boulder Field. Surprisingly, hopping from boulder to boulder is easier that dealing with all the smaller rocks on the trail. We refuel at the aid station (mile 19.3) on the far side of the field and head off onto the aptly named Stone Trail. More rocks, fewer roots, more water. And from there onto the Boundary Trail - straight, and full of rocks and roots.

We cross Fourth Run, where stones allow us to mostly keep our feet dry. The double track dirt road is pretty runnable but we are in no hurry. I've computed that any chance we had of finishing in under 9 hours has pretty much evaporated given the time and distance remaining. We pass a pair of runners and then one of them passes us back. It's rare in a race with less than 200 runners to pass someone 20 miles in.

Lions of the Serengeti

Something in being repassed stirs me. I tell Emaad that we will run a minute and walk a minute. After all, we have been doing a lot of walking, and the mild weather has not been sapping. We run and pass the runner. We walk and don't get caught. We run again. And repeat.

The course goes downhill gently and then heads under the Pennsylvania Turnpike through a tunnel carrying Fourth Run. There is enough water in the stream that keeping dry is not an option, but it is only a few inches deep. The other side is a continuation of the unpaved double track road and we keep to our new routine.

We see a couple more runners ahead. It's been years since I've had the feeling, but I'm ready to play the mind game "lions of the Serengeti." I'm a lion and the runners ahead are antelope. I'm going to hunt them down. It may take awhile but I'm a patient lion. Each step, every passing minute brings me closer. And when I have caught up, the lion has conquered the antelope.

Now, up ahead, we spy a single runner. We recognize the runner would not not step aside earlier in the day. Now that runner is prey for the lions. It is wide here and no need to ask permission or offer apology for passing. Normally I would have a chatty word for a fellow runner. Not this one. We pass the runner without a word or a glance.

Game On

We reach the sixth and final aid station (mile 24.6) a mile sooner than I expect. The volunteers are cheerful and encouraging, telling us that we only have five miles to go. I'm a bit confused as I thought we should have six miles to go. And then I remember what I was told earlier - GPS geometry. All the ascending and descending has the GPS reading short.

And so if we want to be under nine hours we have about 90 minutes to go five miles, not six miles. (The GPS will claim it was 5.9 miles). That is a world of difference. We feel good, we have a grassy trail along a powerline cut ahead, some rocks and roots and then paved park roads to go. It's doable. I have a goal.

I share my enthusiasm with Emaad. He's game but his knee is starting to bother. We go on together for a bit and then I tell him that I'm going ahead. No more one minute on and one minute off, it's just go as long as I can before taking a break. Even the technical sections and uphills are met with power walking. There is a steep downhill with switchbacks that do get my respect and attention.

There is a road at the bottom. I look in vain for ribbons and see none and a note of panic starts to creep in. But I look down and there are white chalk arrows on the ground to point the way.

I haven't gone far and a runner catches up to me. It's the leader of the 100K which started two hours earlier than the 50K. We exchange greetings and just past me he starts walking the uphill. The lion within is aroused and I pass him back. My lead lasts for a few yards until he resumes running, passes me and is soon out of sight. Sometimes the lion is taken be a stronger lion.

I've very confident that nine hours is well in hand, unless I get off course. And now along the road to the finish I search frantically for pink ribbons, terrified that I'll miss a turn. I slow down, weave into the road to be able to see further down, scan the woods for trails and ribbons in case I should have turned.

But it is unnecessary. I'm on course and the finish is in sight. I cross in 8:42:43. I'm DFL in my age group, but since I'm the only one in my age group, I'm also first. Emaad finishes five minutes behind.

Finish in 8:42:43
(Photo by Daniel Govern)

Punch Line

Oh yeah, why should you never run behind a car?

Because you will get exhausted.

By the Numbers

Overall, I was 147 of 169 finishers (202 registered yielding 33 DNS/DNFs), 99 of 108 males, and the only one in my age group. My overall pace was 17:07 minutes/mile, but I ran the last 5.3 miles from the final aid station at a 14:33 pace, just a bit slower than my pace for the first 5.1 miles from the start to the first aid station. And the oldest finisher. Nothing wrong with old and slow.