Thursday I had to miss my group run - the temperature was 101 degrees and the air quality was "unhealthy". Actually most likely everyone bailed, so it would have been a group run of one. Anyway, this had the consequence that I had an URD, and I didn't switch to Sunday week starts.
Today I ran 13.5 miles in the morning, and it was really hard. It was only 79 degrees, so I don't quite understand why it was so hard, but I felt I was done at mile 9... maybe the humidity, or my old shoes, or whatever. I ran shirtless for most of the run, only put on the shirt in last 2 miles on the highway overpasses, because the sun was up high, no shadows there, and I didn't want to get sunburned. Nevertheless, both my shorts and my shirt was completely soaked with sweat. I hung them out to dry and they dripped so much that they produced this fairly large puddle of sweat. Gross, but sort of funny, too. I lost 3 lbs during the run, even though I drank about a liter of water.
My pair of New Balance is now well over 500 miles, so I really should retire them. They don't feel right any more. I already ordered the new pair. But I think I'll still use the good old NB tomorrow, because I want to go for the trail run in Jefferson Memorial Forest. I miss the trails, and I only need a 7.6 easy run to complete my week.
Next week (#11), beginning on 7/2:
Total: 53 miles.
Long runs: 10 and 14 miles.
VO2 max: 5 x 2:30 uphill. Recovery: min 1:15, max 2:15. Even with 2 miles warmup and 2 miles recovery this will be roughly 7 miles. Round it up to 7.25 to make it equal to the easy runs.
Easy runs: 3 x 7.25 miles
Edit: Now I have mild cramps in my calf muscles. I think I have electrolyte depletion... I should get back to Gatorade for my long runs, at least *some* Gatorade. Maybe that's why it was so hard today.
Saturday, June 30
Monday, June 25
I was partying with music fans on Saturday, so I missed my Sunday long run. I was just too tired to get up in the morning, and also, too much alcohol the night before - then I just basically chose to work on my car late into the night instead of running late into the night. So last week I finished 13 miles short. Not ideal, but I may be OK. As long as I do fine this week.
Week -12: Let's consider it to have started on Sunday (6/24).
Total mileage: 53.
Long runs 9 and 13.
LT: 2 x 2.5 miles intervals. Trying to get them down to around 6:30, but it seems hard. 6:40 will do in a pinch. 3 minutes jogging in between. 8 miles.
Easy 7.67/run.
Week -12: Let's consider it to have started on Sunday (6/24).
Total mileage: 53.
Long runs 9 and 13.
LT: 2 x 2.5 miles intervals. Trying to get them down to around 6:30, but it seems hard. 6:40 will do in a pinch. 3 minutes jogging in between. 8 miles.
Easy 7.67/run.
Friday, June 22
I was in Halifax for most of the week, and I didn't have enough time to run, but I still managed to get some running in in the beautiful city, mostly in Point Pleasant Park.
The Big Hit HM opened up registration: it is $64. It looks like they may have had this up for a while, but I don't think the main page linked to it, or I may have just missed it.
LSC HM: Registration is $50 before 7/2. I think I wrote a wrong date before. It goes up to $65 until 10/1, then to $75.
Louisville HM: Unsurprisingly, still no info. But it probably will be on 10/14, because I found this date on the organizer group's website.
The Big Hit HM opened up registration: it is $64. It looks like they may have had this up for a while, but I don't think the main page linked to it, or I may have just missed it.
LSC HM: Registration is $50 before 7/2. I think I wrote a wrong date before. It goes up to $65 until 10/1, then to $75.
Louisville HM: Unsurprisingly, still no info. But it probably will be on 10/14, because I found this date on the organizer group's website.
Saturday, June 16
Today I finished the week with very hard run in the heat. No matter what, it doesn't seem like I can keep up any reasonable speed if temps are over 80 F. Today, it was barely over 80 (fairly high humidity, of course), and I was fine until mile 6. Then cut. I was able to manage a 8:15 pace after that, but that's it. This probably didn't come out back in SC simply because I never ran sub-8 miles back then. In fact 8:15 miles were considered to be too fast.
Week of 6/17-18 (Sunday or Monday):
Total: 49 miles.
Long runs: 9 and 13 miles. We'll see what pace I can do, but do come in under 8 minutes.
VO2 max: 5 x 3:00 on grass, golf course or trails. This will probably be "trails". I'll be in Halifax for this, but the place seems like there are plenty of trails nearby. ~7 miles.
Easy runs: 6.67 miles each.
Week of 6/17-18 (Sunday or Monday):
Total: 49 miles.
Long runs: 9 and 13 miles. We'll see what pace I can do, but do come in under 8 minutes.
VO2 max: 5 x 3:00 on grass, golf course or trails. This will probably be "trails". I'll be in Halifax for this, but the place seems like there are plenty of trails nearby. ~7 miles.
Easy runs: 6.67 miles each.
Thursday, June 14
Sunday, June 10
Training plan is starting tomorrow:
Week of 6/11 (eventually I'll change to starting my weeks on Sunday, because the warmup races will be probably on Saturday -- surprisingly, the Big Hit HM is on Sunday -- but for now, Monday start will work just fine).
Total: 46 miles, including:
Long runs: 12 and 9 miles at 8:30 to 7:30 pace. Meaning starting at 8:30 and finishing at 7:30. This will be a new way of doing these; though I have read this at many places, I always thought it would be too hard to accelerate, not slow down. Which may have been true in the past, but it should be doable now.
LT: 2 x 2 mile intervals. 1.5 miles warmup, 2 miles fast at 6:30/mile, then 3 minutes jogging, then another bout of 6:30 pace, then 1.5 or 2 miles of cooldown. Approx. 8 miles.
Easy runs: 5.67 miles each at 7:30 to 8:30 pace, as slow as comfortable within that range.
Week of 6/11 (eventually I'll change to starting my weeks on Sunday, because the warmup races will be probably on Saturday -- surprisingly, the Big Hit HM is on Sunday -- but for now, Monday start will work just fine).
Total: 46 miles, including:
Long runs: 12 and 9 miles at 8:30 to 7:30 pace. Meaning starting at 8:30 and finishing at 7:30. This will be a new way of doing these; though I have read this at many places, I always thought it would be too hard to accelerate, not slow down. Which may have been true in the past, but it should be doable now.
LT: 2 x 2 mile intervals. 1.5 miles warmup, 2 miles fast at 6:30/mile, then 3 minutes jogging, then another bout of 6:30 pace, then 1.5 or 2 miles of cooldown. Approx. 8 miles.
Easy runs: 5.67 miles each at 7:30 to 8:30 pace, as slow as comfortable within that range.
Saturday, June 9
Still building, on my way to 49 miles this week. I slept in today, so by the time I got out to run, it was 80-some degrees. Stupid me picked a course that was basicaly full sun. It was quite hard to keep my average pace under 8 minutes, which was my goal. But I did it: 13.2 miles in 1:44:53, 7:57 pace. Next week I'll start my training cycle. I'm targeting the Big Hit HM on September 23rd, but so many things can happen, I don't sign up just yet.
Monday, June 4
Saturday, June 2
Bernheim Forest Trail Half Marathon Race Report
Goal: No time goal, because it is a trail race. Just run it as fast as I can.
I jumped into this race in the last minute. I certainly didn't haven any cross country training, in fact I slacked out after the Derby, so (unusual of me), I didn't expect to run a great race. The main reason I still wanted to run it was that I always wanted to run the Millennium Trail in Bernheim Forest as training, and now I would have a cleared trail, lots of signs, aid stations, etc. I knew it was hard but that just made it more attractive.
About 150 runners got together for the race on this cool, gorgeous June morning. A little over 100 would run the half marathon, which was, as I implied, essentially the Millennium Trail. The rest did the full. I talked to Jim, the race director after registration, and he said, if you can run a 1:30 road HM, you will be good for a 2:30 here. He said that I should get a good position in the first mile before the single tracks, then go conservatively till about mile 7; then my road experience will drive me home. I actually took his advice word by word.
Bernheim Forest is a beautiful nature preserve close to Clermont, KY, which is about 30 miles from Louisville. I always have to mention that it is right across the road from the Jim Beam distillery. The terrain consists mostly of steep limestone hills, and it is completely forested. There are no high mountains here, but the terrain is unforgiving. I don't want to jump ahead, but I can say that this was the hardest race I have ever done, and in fact probably the hardest athletic achievement of my life.
This was also National Trails Day, so there were lots of events in the forest. The scene was busy around the visitors' center. I started my warmup at around 7:35, because I wanted to be ready to run fast in the first mile. I needed to use the bathroom, but there were only 2 port-a-potties for all these people (the visitors' center building hadn't opened yet), so I chose the bushes. I finished the warmup, and went to the start line.
The start was on an asphalt road by the visitors' center. I wasn't really sure how to line up, so I tried to stay close to the front. Last year's winner gave a little speech at the beginning, which was sort of like a prayer, but the John Muir way. Our church is the forest, and our religion is nature. I really liked it. Probably because that is what I believe in. When I die, I want my ashes to be scattered in the forest. Preferably at a place where no building, no city, no civilization will ever ruin the holiness of nature.
(Here I took a long break of writing this report to read about John Muir again. He is my prophet. I am so touched by his writings. If you haven't heard about this man, you must look him up.)
At exactly 8:00 the race started. It was a much more relaxed start than most road races. People honestly tried to find their place before the single track. I decided to let a few people pass. I was doing a 6:50-7:00 pace, anticipating major difficulties later. (I was right.)
At around mile 1.5, we hit the single tracks. And up we went! My run slowed to a jog first, and then to a walk. I didn't feel too bad, because most people were walking around me. I mean, it was hard enough to walk fast there, and whoever tried to run were not actually faster. I'm talking about really steep climbs. In about 1/2 mile we gained close to 400 feet of elevation. Now I understood why Jim said 2:30. I tried to keep up with the people around me, but I was worried that I would kill myself at the very beginning, so I let a few more people pass. One guy, in particular, in a gray UA tee shirt, was hesitant first, but he decided to go for it and pulled away. The rest of the runners who passed me stayed in my general vicinity. There was one more very young guy, who ran shirtless (actually banditing, as I learned later): he was in front of me, but I lost sight of him eventually.
Four of us stayed mostly together. A latino looking guy, a girl, who was the leading female runner, an orange tee shirt and I. At around mile 2 or 3, the orange tee let us pass, and I never saw him again. The sun was coming out, the forest was beautiful, and I felt the spirits of the forest around me. The exertion made this feeling even stronger. I was hurting, but the pain was pleasurable .
The three of us followed the following formula: the latino guy was in the front, I was in the middle and the girl at the back. The latino guy pulled away on the climbs, and we both caught up on the downhills. There was virtually no flat surface. In fact the downhills were also so steep, that it took more effort to run on them than on flat road. We had to constantly brake, slow down, otherwise a fall would be inevitable. In fact the latino guy had a few close calls, and once he sprained his ankle. I was watching him from behind, and it looked bad, but he kept running.
At around mile 3.5, I started to feel really thirsty. There hadn't been any aid stations yet. I asked the latino guy if we passed any. He said no, and he also said we will have one in every 3-4 miles. At mile 4, I started to worry. At mile 4.5 I was really thirsty and I started to really worry. I knew if I won't have water in about a mile, my race is blown. The latino guy was so nice that he offered to share his dwindling resources, but of course I couldn't accept it. Fortunately we hit a gravel road at mile 4.7 (the first one), and there was the aid station! Now on trail race, it is different than on the road. At least that's how I see it: on the road, you pick up a cup (or two), and take it with you. Drink the water and throw away the cup. It's fine, especially if you do it in a few hundred meters of the aid station: the volunteers pick up the cups. On the trail, throwing away a cup in the woods sounds sacrilegious to me. So I stopped, drank a cup of water, threw the cup into the trash, then went on. I probably should have drank two cups, but I didn't want my company to leave me behind.
The next mile was flat or downhill. The girl told me she wanted to pass me, and I said OK, but I stayed on her heel. Actually I felt that they were blocking me a bit, but I didn't mind. I remembered what Jim said to take the first 7 miles conservatively. We were still quite fast. In fact at one point we descended so fast that my ear popped. I have never experienced that on a narrow, rocky, technical trail. In fact a guy after the race told me that he saw me run downhill in the beginning, and he doesn't understand how can I be so fast. I told him that I'm simply crazy. When I race, nothing else matters. I run fast or I die. It must be the ancient fleeing reflex working in me.
At close to mile 7, the marathon course diverted, and we almost took the turn. Right after that, a brutal, one mile long climb started. The latino guy first pulled away, as usual. The girl jogged a bit, and I just walked. I basically did the same pace walking as she jogging. Soon she stopped and let me pass. I told her that she might pass me back soon, cause I'm just as tired, but she seemed really exhausted, so I passed here anyway. In 50 meters, the latino guy exclaimed "shit!", and he stopped. So I passed him walking. I gained 50 meters on them by the end of the climb (walking!), and then when the flat(ter) stage started, I thought it was my time, so I decided to open up a gap. I went hard. The course was somewhat flat here (meaning rolling hills), and I did leave them behind. So much so, that when I reached the aid station at mile 8, I drank two cups of water, and they didn't catch up. After that, it was a downhill mile, and I really went berserk, I couldn't believe myself how much risk I was willing to take. I glanced back, but but my two former companions were nowhere in sight.
I reached mile 9, the valley, all by myself. I hit a fire road, and the course followed this road for a few hundred meters. The signage was somewhat confusing, and I stopped, and ran back a little, but then I figured out the way to go. I immediately realized the dangers of running alone... Anyway, I only lost about 30 seconds. I heard after the race that some people kept following the fire road for over a mile before they realized they went off the course. Well, I guess this is part of the difficulty of trail races.
After the turn off the fire road, I started to count back the miles. Only four miles left... I started to hurt real bad... on the top of this, all of the mile from 9 to 10 was uphill. I tried to run here and there but it was really hard. I started to talk to myself. "It's a fucking race, you asshole. Run, like you mean it!" When this stopped working, I started to imagine the latino and the girl as a lion chasing me (don't laugh now). I seriously induced fear in myself to produce some adrenaline. "You run, or you'll fucking die here." I was gasping for air. When a blackberry bush scratched me at one point, I felt a kind of a relief. Because it was a different kind of a pain, not nearly as bad as the one I felt running.
I looked at my GPS watch at one point, and I could believe I only advanced a half of a mile... but at the end I somehow made it to the top. Mile 10, and another aid station. Almost too soon. But they had Coke! I drank a cup of Coke, thanked them and I was off.
You probably noticed that I haven't written about my splits and pace. It is because in this race it was essentially meaningless. After I left latino guy and the girl behind, I suspected I was in the top 10, and all I cared about was my position. I wanted to finish in the top 10. In particular, because those are the runners, who are listed on the main page of the results. My overall pace at the mile 10 aid station was 9:41/mile, which slowed to 9:43 by the time I finished my Coke. It sounds pathetic, but I swear it was a lot harder than the 6:40 pace of the Derby Half.
Rolling hills followed the aid station, and lots of vegetation. It was hard to see the ground, or anything for that matter. I did a steady pace, until suddenly, I saw the bandit guy walking 50 meters ahead of me. When he saw me, he started running, but it was hopeless. I made a point of running him down fast, so he would be demoralized. Later he told me he didn't feel ethical to drink anything at aid stations, so he was very dehydrated by that time. No wonder! He asked me how far from the finish we were, and wished me good luck.
I continued to press on. I didn't know this guy was banditing, so now I wanted to defend my new position. A downhill section started, and then who did I see? The gray tee shirt guy, who passed me before mile 2. When he saw me I told him: "Well, I see you again." He responded: "Hi! Go ahead, I'll stick with you." I didn't respond, but I thought: "You wish!" I passed him and then I ran really hard. I opened up a big gap immediately. In a half of a mile, he was not in sight.
There was one last really hard climb. Starting at mile 11.5, it went all the way to almost mile 13. I was struggling more than ever, but pressing harder than ever. The gray tee passed me on an uphill back at mile 2, so I thought he may come back any time. But only a mile and a half left. I tried every trick in the book. Lions, out-of-body, he-is-right-behind-me, etc. I was hurting real bad. Probably the hardest mile and a half in my life. I felt nausea, and I *wanted* to puke, but my stomach was empty... I didn't stop, of course. I hallucinated a weird guy in white clothes by the trail. I thought it was a spectator, but when I looked at him directly, he disappeared.
I hit mile 13, and an asphalt road. A black arrow pointed to the right, so I took the right turn. I expected the finish line any time, but it didn't come. Neither I saw any ribbons or blazes that were used to mark the course. I glanced at my GPS: it showed 13.25. I started to panic. I slowed down a bit... I'm lost. I can't believe I get lost a quarter mile from the finish line. Where is the finish?! I must have hallucinated the arrow! What now? Should I run back?
Then I spotted a ribbon finally! I ran hard, and I saw some cars ahead, but it was only a parking lot. Then some people... that must be it... but its was only some spectators. At least I knew I was almost there. Then I saw a finish clock, and Jim. The chute was marked with cones, but my brain was gone, and I didn't quite understand where the finish line was supposed to be. Nevertheless, Jim signaled me where to run and I finished the race in 2:10:02. Garmin 13.64 miles. Of course, a trail half marathon is never exactly 13.1 miles, and these trail runners are tough as nail: I'm sure they would only complain if the course is ever shorter.
It turns out that I made 6th place! Not bad, out of 99. Especially, because the runners are more serious here than at road races. The organizers were also impressed, because they knew I wasn't in the trail runner circle, it was my first trail race, I ran in road shoes, and Jim also said that I was the first finisher who didn't fall. :) I was also the fastest guy over 30 (I'm 36), but there were no age group awards.
If you had patience to read this whole thing, you see why I said it was the hardest race I've ever done. It was a lot harder than the KY Derby half. It was a lot harder than the Kiawah Island Marathon. It was a lot harder than any of my two completion of the Gazlo mountain bike endurance event back in Hungary (close to a 100 miles in the Bakony mountains, virtually all off road and rough elevation profile).
Trail runners are the nicest people. I hung around, chatting with people until noon, when they had the award ceremony. The winner's time was 1:45. Unreal. The latino guy finished with 2:18, the girl (who indeed won the female division) finished with 2:15. Trail runners are super modest. I think they are a lot tougher than an average road runner, but there is a lot less bragging here. The hyperbole in "Born to Run" has some truth to it after all.
They had the best food, because they grilled burgers and hot dogs! I had two burgers, plenty of Coke. After the ceremony, I left for home. Only a handful of the marathon runners had arrived by that time. The winning time was (I think) around 3:36. Wow.
After this great event, I still think that trail racing is not for me. It is too hard. It is very hard to prepare for. Hard to measure your progress, because times are meaningless. But is was a lot of fun!
PS: Funny that I just found this on Bernheim's website:
"Half Millennium Trail Hike
Take a hike – a long hike! Tony Cecil and other Bernheim Volunteer Naturalists will be your guides on half of the 13.75 mile Millennium Trail. This is a rigorous hike; experienced hikers only please. Bring a bag lunch, snacks and plenty of water."
So if *hiking* *half* of the trail is rigorous, and for experienced hikers only, how about *running* the *whole* trail *as fast as possible*. Well, I can barely move now...
Goal: No time goal, because it is a trail race. Just run it as fast as I can.
I jumped into this race in the last minute. I certainly didn't haven any cross country training, in fact I slacked out after the Derby, so (unusual of me), I didn't expect to run a great race. The main reason I still wanted to run it was that I always wanted to run the Millennium Trail in Bernheim Forest as training, and now I would have a cleared trail, lots of signs, aid stations, etc. I knew it was hard but that just made it more attractive.
About 150 runners got together for the race on this cool, gorgeous June morning. A little over 100 would run the half marathon, which was, as I implied, essentially the Millennium Trail. The rest did the full. I talked to Jim, the race director after registration, and he said, if you can run a 1:30 road HM, you will be good for a 2:30 here. He said that I should get a good position in the first mile before the single tracks, then go conservatively till about mile 7; then my road experience will drive me home. I actually took his advice word by word.
Bernheim Forest is a beautiful nature preserve close to Clermont, KY, which is about 30 miles from Louisville. I always have to mention that it is right across the road from the Jim Beam distillery. The terrain consists mostly of steep limestone hills, and it is completely forested. There are no high mountains here, but the terrain is unforgiving. I don't want to jump ahead, but I can say that this was the hardest race I have ever done, and in fact probably the hardest athletic achievement of my life.
This was also National Trails Day, so there were lots of events in the forest. The scene was busy around the visitors' center. I started my warmup at around 7:35, because I wanted to be ready to run fast in the first mile. I needed to use the bathroom, but there were only 2 port-a-potties for all these people (the visitors' center building hadn't opened yet), so I chose the bushes. I finished the warmup, and went to the start line.
The start was on an asphalt road by the visitors' center. I wasn't really sure how to line up, so I tried to stay close to the front. Last year's winner gave a little speech at the beginning, which was sort of like a prayer, but the John Muir way. Our church is the forest, and our religion is nature. I really liked it. Probably because that is what I believe in. When I die, I want my ashes to be scattered in the forest. Preferably at a place where no building, no city, no civilization will ever ruin the holiness of nature.
(Here I took a long break of writing this report to read about John Muir again. He is my prophet. I am so touched by his writings. If you haven't heard about this man, you must look him up.)
At exactly 8:00 the race started. It was a much more relaxed start than most road races. People honestly tried to find their place before the single track. I decided to let a few people pass. I was doing a 6:50-7:00 pace, anticipating major difficulties later. (I was right.)
At around mile 1.5, we hit the single tracks. And up we went! My run slowed to a jog first, and then to a walk. I didn't feel too bad, because most people were walking around me. I mean, it was hard enough to walk fast there, and whoever tried to run were not actually faster. I'm talking about really steep climbs. In about 1/2 mile we gained close to 400 feet of elevation. Now I understood why Jim said 2:30. I tried to keep up with the people around me, but I was worried that I would kill myself at the very beginning, so I let a few more people pass. One guy, in particular, in a gray UA tee shirt, was hesitant first, but he decided to go for it and pulled away. The rest of the runners who passed me stayed in my general vicinity. There was one more very young guy, who ran shirtless (actually banditing, as I learned later): he was in front of me, but I lost sight of him eventually.
Four of us stayed mostly together. A latino looking guy, a girl, who was the leading female runner, an orange tee shirt and I. At around mile 2 or 3, the orange tee let us pass, and I never saw him again. The sun was coming out, the forest was beautiful, and I felt the spirits of the forest around me. The exertion made this feeling even stronger. I was hurting, but the pain was pleasurable .
The three of us followed the following formula: the latino guy was in the front, I was in the middle and the girl at the back. The latino guy pulled away on the climbs, and we both caught up on the downhills. There was virtually no flat surface. In fact the downhills were also so steep, that it took more effort to run on them than on flat road. We had to constantly brake, slow down, otherwise a fall would be inevitable. In fact the latino guy had a few close calls, and once he sprained his ankle. I was watching him from behind, and it looked bad, but he kept running.
At around mile 3.5, I started to feel really thirsty. There hadn't been any aid stations yet. I asked the latino guy if we passed any. He said no, and he also said we will have one in every 3-4 miles. At mile 4, I started to worry. At mile 4.5 I was really thirsty and I started to really worry. I knew if I won't have water in about a mile, my race is blown. The latino guy was so nice that he offered to share his dwindling resources, but of course I couldn't accept it. Fortunately we hit a gravel road at mile 4.7 (the first one), and there was the aid station! Now on trail race, it is different than on the road. At least that's how I see it: on the road, you pick up a cup (or two), and take it with you. Drink the water and throw away the cup. It's fine, especially if you do it in a few hundred meters of the aid station: the volunteers pick up the cups. On the trail, throwing away a cup in the woods sounds sacrilegious to me. So I stopped, drank a cup of water, threw the cup into the trash, then went on. I probably should have drank two cups, but I didn't want my company to leave me behind.
The next mile was flat or downhill. The girl told me she wanted to pass me, and I said OK, but I stayed on her heel. Actually I felt that they were blocking me a bit, but I didn't mind. I remembered what Jim said to take the first 7 miles conservatively. We were still quite fast. In fact at one point we descended so fast that my ear popped. I have never experienced that on a narrow, rocky, technical trail. In fact a guy after the race told me that he saw me run downhill in the beginning, and he doesn't understand how can I be so fast. I told him that I'm simply crazy. When I race, nothing else matters. I run fast or I die. It must be the ancient fleeing reflex working in me.
At close to mile 7, the marathon course diverted, and we almost took the turn. Right after that, a brutal, one mile long climb started. The latino guy first pulled away, as usual. The girl jogged a bit, and I just walked. I basically did the same pace walking as she jogging. Soon she stopped and let me pass. I told her that she might pass me back soon, cause I'm just as tired, but she seemed really exhausted, so I passed here anyway. In 50 meters, the latino guy exclaimed "shit!", and he stopped. So I passed him walking. I gained 50 meters on them by the end of the climb (walking!), and then when the flat(ter) stage started, I thought it was my time, so I decided to open up a gap. I went hard. The course was somewhat flat here (meaning rolling hills), and I did leave them behind. So much so, that when I reached the aid station at mile 8, I drank two cups of water, and they didn't catch up. After that, it was a downhill mile, and I really went berserk, I couldn't believe myself how much risk I was willing to take. I glanced back, but but my two former companions were nowhere in sight.
I reached mile 9, the valley, all by myself. I hit a fire road, and the course followed this road for a few hundred meters. The signage was somewhat confusing, and I stopped, and ran back a little, but then I figured out the way to go. I immediately realized the dangers of running alone... Anyway, I only lost about 30 seconds. I heard after the race that some people kept following the fire road for over a mile before they realized they went off the course. Well, I guess this is part of the difficulty of trail races.
After the turn off the fire road, I started to count back the miles. Only four miles left... I started to hurt real bad... on the top of this, all of the mile from 9 to 10 was uphill. I tried to run here and there but it was really hard. I started to talk to myself. "It's a fucking race, you asshole. Run, like you mean it!" When this stopped working, I started to imagine the latino and the girl as a lion chasing me (don't laugh now). I seriously induced fear in myself to produce some adrenaline. "You run, or you'll fucking die here." I was gasping for air. When a blackberry bush scratched me at one point, I felt a kind of a relief. Because it was a different kind of a pain, not nearly as bad as the one I felt running.
I looked at my GPS watch at one point, and I could believe I only advanced a half of a mile... but at the end I somehow made it to the top. Mile 10, and another aid station. Almost too soon. But they had Coke! I drank a cup of Coke, thanked them and I was off.
You probably noticed that I haven't written about my splits and pace. It is because in this race it was essentially meaningless. After I left latino guy and the girl behind, I suspected I was in the top 10, and all I cared about was my position. I wanted to finish in the top 10. In particular, because those are the runners, who are listed on the main page of the results. My overall pace at the mile 10 aid station was 9:41/mile, which slowed to 9:43 by the time I finished my Coke. It sounds pathetic, but I swear it was a lot harder than the 6:40 pace of the Derby Half.
Rolling hills followed the aid station, and lots of vegetation. It was hard to see the ground, or anything for that matter. I did a steady pace, until suddenly, I saw the bandit guy walking 50 meters ahead of me. When he saw me, he started running, but it was hopeless. I made a point of running him down fast, so he would be demoralized. Later he told me he didn't feel ethical to drink anything at aid stations, so he was very dehydrated by that time. No wonder! He asked me how far from the finish we were, and wished me good luck.
I continued to press on. I didn't know this guy was banditing, so now I wanted to defend my new position. A downhill section started, and then who did I see? The gray tee shirt guy, who passed me before mile 2. When he saw me I told him: "Well, I see you again." He responded: "Hi! Go ahead, I'll stick with you." I didn't respond, but I thought: "You wish!" I passed him and then I ran really hard. I opened up a big gap immediately. In a half of a mile, he was not in sight.
There was one last really hard climb. Starting at mile 11.5, it went all the way to almost mile 13. I was struggling more than ever, but pressing harder than ever. The gray tee passed me on an uphill back at mile 2, so I thought he may come back any time. But only a mile and a half left. I tried every trick in the book. Lions, out-of-body, he-is-right-behind-me, etc. I was hurting real bad. Probably the hardest mile and a half in my life. I felt nausea, and I *wanted* to puke, but my stomach was empty... I didn't stop, of course. I hallucinated a weird guy in white clothes by the trail. I thought it was a spectator, but when I looked at him directly, he disappeared.
I hit mile 13, and an asphalt road. A black arrow pointed to the right, so I took the right turn. I expected the finish line any time, but it didn't come. Neither I saw any ribbons or blazes that were used to mark the course. I glanced at my GPS: it showed 13.25. I started to panic. I slowed down a bit... I'm lost. I can't believe I get lost a quarter mile from the finish line. Where is the finish?! I must have hallucinated the arrow! What now? Should I run back?
Then I spotted a ribbon finally! I ran hard, and I saw some cars ahead, but it was only a parking lot. Then some people... that must be it... but its was only some spectators. At least I knew I was almost there. Then I saw a finish clock, and Jim. The chute was marked with cones, but my brain was gone, and I didn't quite understand where the finish line was supposed to be. Nevertheless, Jim signaled me where to run and I finished the race in 2:10:02. Garmin 13.64 miles. Of course, a trail half marathon is never exactly 13.1 miles, and these trail runners are tough as nail: I'm sure they would only complain if the course is ever shorter.
It turns out that I made 6th place! Not bad, out of 99. Especially, because the runners are more serious here than at road races. The organizers were also impressed, because they knew I wasn't in the trail runner circle, it was my first trail race, I ran in road shoes, and Jim also said that I was the first finisher who didn't fall. :) I was also the fastest guy over 30 (I'm 36), but there were no age group awards.
If you had patience to read this whole thing, you see why I said it was the hardest race I've ever done. It was a lot harder than the KY Derby half. It was a lot harder than the Kiawah Island Marathon. It was a lot harder than any of my two completion of the Gazlo mountain bike endurance event back in Hungary (close to a 100 miles in the Bakony mountains, virtually all off road and rough elevation profile).
Trail runners are the nicest people. I hung around, chatting with people until noon, when they had the award ceremony. The winner's time was 1:45. Unreal. The latino guy finished with 2:18, the girl (who indeed won the female division) finished with 2:15. Trail runners are super modest. I think they are a lot tougher than an average road runner, but there is a lot less bragging here. The hyperbole in "Born to Run" has some truth to it after all.
They had the best food, because they grilled burgers and hot dogs! I had two burgers, plenty of Coke. After the ceremony, I left for home. Only a handful of the marathon runners had arrived by that time. The winning time was (I think) around 3:36. Wow.
After this great event, I still think that trail racing is not for me. It is too hard. It is very hard to prepare for. Hard to measure your progress, because times are meaningless. But is was a lot of fun!
PS: Funny that I just found this on Bernheim's website:
"Half Millennium Trail Hike
Take a hike – a long hike! Tony Cecil and other Bernheim Volunteer Naturalists will be your guides on half of the 13.75 mile Millennium Trail. This is a rigorous hike; experienced hikers only please. Bring a bag lunch, snacks and plenty of water."
So if *hiking* *half* of the trail is rigorous, and for experienced hikers only, how about *running* the *whole* trail *as fast as possible*. Well, I can barely move now...
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