A couple of years ago I read an article where some “purist”
running writer was whining about how the sport of Trail Running was becoming
too soft. The implication was that a course made up of miles of tame, gently
rolling single- or two-track, while bringing more people into the sport,
somehow tainted the more hardcore grit and grind that trail running was
supposedly supposed to embody. When you did a trail race, you were supposed to
really feel it during & afterwards, that’s it’s not for the faint of heart
or the casual runner. While I don’t agree with that assertion, the guy would be
happy to know his ideal of a difficult and overly-taxing experience by way of a
trail race is still alive & well.
The Old Farts Marathon in Lowell, MI, at least for 2013, was
a 13.1 mile loop run twice throughout Fallasburg park and trails therein. (Apparently
they change the route frequently, if not every year.) The course as best as I can
recall was something like this: some paved road, then single track, slanted single
track (which can be surprisingly hard to run on), more pavement, more single
track, a mud pit, four ridiculously steep hills to climb, a few ridiculously
steep hills to go down, some squishy sandy two track (which can also be
surprisingly hard to run on), a long uphill dirt road, more pavement, some
single track through an open field (which presents it’s own challenge when it’s
80 & sunny and there are no trees to shade the way), more single track
through the woods, one more nasty climb, a little more single track and a last
bit of pavement to the finish, with about a hundred downed trees to step over
along the way, countless low-hanging branches & trees to duck under along
the way, maybe a dozen creek crossings along the way. In short, a mixed bag—something
for everyone! Fun for the whole family!
So off we went. I tried to start nice & easy, remembering
this was a “training run” for a bigger fall race yet to be determined, and
enjoy the experience. After about a mile or two I got bored with that idea and
decided on a different strategy—push it and maintain at least a moderate pace
early on to wear myself out a little, so that later in the race I could work on
my “tired running”, which would toughen me up, make me a stronger runner, get
me used to running tired, push my endocrine system, and other half-baked
notions. I didn’t consider the fact that the course itself would wear me out
all by itself, probably because I was running the course for the first time and
didn’t know what to expect.
The “highlight” of the race was about miles 3 through 6 (and
then 16 through 19) where the trees, the mud and the hills were at their worst.
I’m thinking it was by design that so many of those downed trees are within
this section. Every time you have to slow down to step over a log, and every
time you have to duck under a low-hanging branch or slanted tree, you’re
engaging your core, hips, and legs in ways that you normally wouldn’t if all
you’re doing is running along without ever stopping. Multiply that by dozens
and dozens of instances and you end up with a far greater workout than you’d
have on open, clear, 100% runnable trails.
They sent out the full and half marathon runners together. Because
of this there were numerous instances early on where people got bunched
together & congested at tricky spots. (This wasn’t an issue on the second lap
where I only saw 3 people the entire way) At about mile 5 or 6 during a couple
of those insane hill climbs I got frustrated with the congestion and instead of
climb/walking in step behind everyone else in front of me, I kind of ran-climbed
and passed about two dozen people all at once. When I reached the top of
especially that second climb I was in full-blown oxygen debt but at least I was
ahead of that cluster and had more free & easy sailing the rest of the loop.
There were a lot of great views, including one where we were
WAY high up and caught a brief view of Flat River far below and miles of
countryside beyond that. That view really spoke to just how much climbing there
was, seeing as how just an hour earlier we were down there right alongside that
same river.
Much of the single track was a section of the North Country
Trail with the familiar blue squares spray-painted on trees. The course even
had a dead wild turkey carcass right smack dab in the middle of one stretch of
trail, being busily picked at by scores of bugs and bees. Because after all,
really, what’s a trail race without something dead along the way?
You know you’re doing a hard trail marathon when you bonk at
about mile 15 (instead of 18-20 like with a ‘normal’ marathon). Despite this I
continued going ‘fast’ at least too fast for me. My competitive nature was
kicking in as I contemplated possibly finishing in the top 5 for the Masters
division and getting an award. Another goal was to try to set a new Trail
Marathon PR of under 5:20.
This would prove difficult because all of those climbs were
far more difficult during the second go ‘round, as were the step-overs, the duck-unders
and the jump-acrosses. But that was good, I needed a good hard ordeal to get me
in shape, that’s what ‘training runs’ are all about, right?
I missed a couple of early hydration and nutrition opportunities
(because I was distracted by the terrain and the desire to get past those groups
of other runners) and tried to make up for it later, resulting in some
upset-belly issues during that second loop. I tried diluting the yuck in my gut
with water, but that wasn’t working. I discovered after the race that I had
salt all over my neck so I was “salty-sweating”. Despite all of this I had
pretty good energy through the whole race and was able to finish strong.
Between the too-fast pace, the trees/logs, the hills and
everything else, this race just completely and totally kicked my ass. I think
it kicked everyone’s ass. Finishers of the full marathon were hobbling around
like crippled zombies, a visibly haunted look on their/our faces. It wasn’t
just a leg fatigue but a whole body fatigue. All the twisting & contorting from
navigating the branches & downed trees/logs took a significant added toll. As
a cruel final twist, the river where we could do a post-race leg-soak was way
down a hill, and then you had to climb back up that hill to get back to the
parking lot.
I highly recommend this race to anybody interested in a
tough, unapologetic trail experience that will make other courses look at least
somewhat easier by comparison, even if those other courses are harder. (This
last sentence does make sense, I think) The whole course was well-marked and
the volunteers were fantastic, including one lady who was jumping from station
to station keeping everything stocked. I just kept seeing her, thought I was
having déjà vu.
Going “fast” was all for naught as I wasn’t even close to
placing in the Masters division. I did finish 19th overall out of
60, and set a Trail Marathon PR of 5:14 on a course that was much harder and
slower than the course I set my previous PR on. Despite the grind, I recovered
to the point where I could run the day after. (I didn’t, but I could’ve) The
body’s ability to recover is amazing. I also re-learned that running isn’t
nearly as fun when I’m trying to push the pace, and that I need to meet my
nutrition & hydration goals right from the start or it will come back to
bite me later. All in all there were a lot of positives—a good learning experience,
a good race, a good final training run before Run Woodstock September 8th.
Now I just need to make The Decision—100k, or 100M in three weeks? To be
determined…
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