Escarpment Trail 30K Race Report

First of all, the application process for this race is nearly as arduous as the qualifying standards:

At least one of these standards must have been met after August 1 of last year.

• Anyone who completed the previous year's Escarpment Trail Run in 6 hours or less.
• Anyone who completed a half-iron man triathlon competition in 6 hours or less.
• Anyone who completed a full iron man triathlon in 13 hours or less.
• Anyone who completed a 50 miler in under 10 hours, a 50K under 5 hours, or a marathon under 4:15. Add 1 1/2 hrs. for a trail race.
• NO ONE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE.

In order to get an application, you have to mail a self-addressed-stamped-envelope (SASE) to the RD.  Ok, that's weird, but whatever.  I put an envelope in another envelope so that the former could be returned to me containing a race application.  Waited a few weeks until I got an envelope in the mail addressed to me in my handwriting.  Is this like that episode of The Office where Jim sends faxes to Dwight from future Dwight? I filled out the application and mailed it back with another SASE so if I was accepted to race they could send me instructions for how to register.  Ok, so I wait a few more weeks and finally another envelope addressed by me to me (seriously, this is a joke, right?) shows up with registration instructions that describe how to go register online.  Yes, after all that, it turns out I have to go register ON THE INTERNETS!  Me thinks a step or two can be eliminated in this process somewhere?

Anyway, on to the race.  A few days before I looked at the weather and saw a 50% chance of isolated thunderstorms, great.  Time to catch up on lightning safety in the mountains and how/where/when to shelter from the storm.  Then, I spent pondered all the wet muddy rocks that I would have to run down and all the possible ways that I could die by slipping and falling into a rock or off a cliff.  How do I splint a broken leg/ankle again?  This trail crosses no roads and there is no easy access to any part of the trail, so if you get seriously injured you either have to make it out yourself or be hauled out by an emergency response team.  So, with that in mind, it was time to start running...
yay?

See?  No roads, just mountain wilderness for many miles.

The race start was rainy, but I hadn't noticed any lightning or heard any thunder until I lined up with my wave 5min before the start and then there was a loud crack and the rain started coming down even harder.  My wave lined up at the timing mat and stood still, shivering for 3 minutes before we started.  One thing about this group of runners (just clarifying that I'm not generalizing all runners, although...nevermind) is that they were incapable of understanding of wave starts or counting to 15 (each wave had a maximum of 15 runners).  There was quite a bit of confusion when less than 15 people were lined up to start in earlier waves and people were given the option to move up a wave.  Some common questions I heard more than once: 1. How many can move up? 2. How come he can go, but I can't? 3. What wave is this?  4. When does my wave start?  ... My internal answers to these questions were:  1. Math:  15 - 13 = 2.  2 can move up. Or, did you not hear them saying, "2 runners!?!?"  2. He did math faster, or was here before you.  3. Math, not even math...counting  4. Math, 5 minutes between waves bro.

Ok, rant over.  Race started and we darted into the woods and a rather leisurely pace.  A nice gradual uphill and good trails made for a good warm-up for the rest of the race to come.  I stayed with a group of 5 guys that were running a steady 10-11min/mi and we quickly caught some of the runners in waves before us.  It started raining even harder and there was more frequent thunder and lightning.  In in some spots on the trail that were covered with dense trees I almost wished I had my headlamp.  But I stayed conservative because I was unsure of what was to come.  I had a handheld bottle and 3 gels to fuel me for the race and would top off the bottle and grab some extra nutrition at the aid stations if I needed it.

At 3.5mi I crested Windham High Peak (3,524ft) and was feeling great.  I passed a lot of people on the climb and was motivated to keep the effort going.  But with the wet muddy rocks, I was extra cautious on the descents and was passed by a few runners who had more stones (or maybe less brains?) than me.  These guys weren't even in the first wave so I wasn't even surrounded by the fastest guys, but shit they were flying downhill.  They would leap over boulders before looking.  Just flying down at a rate that would cause me certain death and/or facial impairment, it was absurd and marvelous at the same time.

Around mile 6 I reached the next aid station which was about 2mi after my armpits started chafing and there was a rather suggestive exchange with a female volunteer about my liberal application of vaseline and whether she could be of any assistance (yes, that was a run-on sentence...thanks for noticing.)  And just to clarify, she was the one being suggestive, not me.  Maybe my short shorts and nearly shear white tri top meant I was asking for it?  It was a wet t-shirt contest and running race, was it not?  What a good idea for a multisport event!  Or maybe it was my pheromones from the pee I splashed all over myself when I marked about 100ft of trail the mile before.  Either way, it was entertaining.

With lubed up armpits and some pretzels for the road, I was back to running and ascending again.  The next big peak was Blackhead a few miles ahead and I knew it was the steepest.  So when I wasn't thoughtfully planning my next step from wet rock to potential ankle-breaking muddy rock, I was thinking about the 1,000ft ascent over the next mile.  Again, I passed a bunch of guys on the uphills and started to doubt if I was running this race correctly - hard on (giggle) the uphills, easy/safe on the downhills.  Would the other way around be faster?  I was making significant gaps on the faster descenders and didn't feel like I was trashing my legs so it must have been working well enough.

The ascent up Blackhead (3,940ft) was more of a rock scrambling on all fours kind of deal.  The wet muddy boulders made for some tricky footing and required a lot of verbal sounds of effort.  I averaged about 16:00/mi up to the summit and by the time I got to the top my legs were screaming, and I was only just halfway through the race.  The next 2mi was all descending, over 800ft total and some really nasty grades.  My pace slowed considerably as I was again more concerned with my ankles than my overall time.  

Finally we got back to some climbing by mile 13 as we ascended our last peak, Stoppel Point (3,418ft), and we passed the plane wreckage that is infamous in this area.  I put a lot of time into the one guy with whom I had been going back and forth for the past 6 miles.  I passed a few people on the climb up to Stoppel and all of them seemed to be in a lot more pain than me.  Which was good news for me because after cresting at mile 14 the rest of the race was descending.  I hoped I had put enough time into the descenders that they wouldn't catch me, but I could only manage 12min pace as I hopped from rock to rock.  Even though it was dry now, the rocks were still treacherous.  Finally, I got to North Point and knew it was only 2.2mi to go.  One last gel, some more water, and I was set for another 500ft of descending.

By this point in the race I was looking down at the rocks the entire time and I had to stop a few times to make sure I was still on the trail.  I caught my toe on a rock and almost stumbled face first into a tooth-crunching jaw breaking eye-socket rupturing pile of rocks.  At which point I decided that I didn't care how slow I was going to descend this last mile, I was going to get there without bleeding.  I started to see more spectators and casual day-hikers on the trail which meant I must be close to the finish.  Butt-scooting down another scramble as a photographer took pictures and spectators cheered was undignifying and probably comical for everyone watching.

I think this face says it all.  I just want to be done already!

But on the bright side, I was not caught by the runners I passed a few miles back.  I somehow managed to stumble and hop my day down from Stoppel fast enough to stay ahead.  A few hundred meters more and I emerged from the woods and finished.

It was an unremarkable way to end such an epic day, but it was so fitting for those of us who participated.  I didn't do this race for bragging rights, a finisher's medal, or to win anything.  I finished in 3:45:38, in 26th overall, almost 50 minutes after the winner.  I learned a bit about myself along the way and experienced some of what these mountains have to offer.  There were many beautiful moments in the woods that I wish I could have stopped to enjoy.  But, it was a race after all and I wanted to test my limits.  I did that and more, all without breaking any bones or injuring myself.  So, I'd say it was a successful day!

Full Results Here