I'd looked forward to this year's Escarpment Trail Run with mixed emotions. It's a great race, but I had my share of problems in the last year which stopped me from running at all for over 2 months and required careful rehabilitation. While I felt better following physical therapy, I was concerned that my injuries would recur. On top of that my last Escarpment race wasn't so great.
The weekend started inauspiciously. The day before, I roller skied at Lake Denmark. I skied easy, then did some pickups, and rolled for awhile longer until BAM, my feet went out from under me and I nearly faceplanted at the arsenal gate. The head of a bolt had sheared off and one of the wheels went flying. My trusty, aging roller skis were toast and all I had to show for it was a silver dollar-sized, suppurating open wound on one knee.
At the start of the race, I was wearing a dumb little Band-aid over my knee and seeded a little too far back. When the starting horn blasted, an amorphous group of people funneled into the single track start. The first few minutes were all walking, no running. After the previous year's disaster, I'd resolved to be more aggressive, but initially it wasn't going too well.
Gradually the pack sorted itself out, and I worked hard up Windham High Peak. My split for the summit was faster than last year, but it wasn't any land speed record. Midway down Windham, someone called for trail on one of the extreme technical sections and I slipped, and BAM, smacked the exact same part of my kneecap that I'd bashed on Saturday warm-up. Once the initial surprise wore off it wasn't debilitating, and I kept going at a good clip.
Once off Windham, I made good time and put some distance on some people on the rolling section leading to the base of Black Head. I tried to really attack on this hill, a tactic that's worked well in the past. On Black Head, "attack" is relative: you're basically climbing hand over foot most of the way. I went hard, but not quite at the pace I wanted to. Was it the reduced training hours now that we have a child, or just getting older? Probably a combination of the two. No time to ruminate; on the summit, I slurped down some water and a gel and kept going.
As I picked my way down a steep rock step, someone bounded past me and shouted over his shoulder, "I've made it to the finish from here in 1:42." If I could've kept his pace, I'd have a great race, but I plainly didn't have this guy's descending skills. Try as I might, I didn't have the no-fear, devil-take-the-hindmost attitude you need on the big rock steps and wicked steep descents.
I barely stopped at the Dutchers Notch feed, with one significant climb remaining. At this point last year, I could hardly move in the last 7 miles because my legs were so stiff. Although my quads were screaming from the descent off Black Head, overall, my legs felt pretty good. The ensuing ascent of Stoppel Point is a series of climbs interspersed with flat sections. I kept pushing the pace as much as I could, because I was worried about the 4-mile descent to the finish.
"Boss, it is de plane!" I said, for anyone around to hear, passing the skeleton of the crashed airplane.
"Do you know where the feed is?" asked the guy behind me. Someone I'd gone back and forth with the better part of the race. Maybe 5 meters in back.
"Around 600 meters up," I replied.
"You don't know where it is! Admit it!" he said. "Never," I shot back.
Of course the Stoppel Point feed was where I expected it. The volunteers kindly filled my water bottle, as I was feeling parched, and onwards! I did a creditable job descending the next couple of miles to North Point. But that's the easy part. The final 2 or so miles from North Point to the finish includes some brutally steep, technical downhill where I just slowed to a crawl. As much as I was able to hammer the easier downhills and the flats, it didn't make up for the snail's pace on the technical bits. But I was thankful to be able to finish strong. It was a beautiful day in the Catskills and it was great to be out around so many other like minded people.
I and all the other runners owe thanks to the many volunteers who give up their Sunday to haul gallons of water, on their backs, uphill into the woods. Without them this race wouldn't happen. Thank you.