10 states down, 40 to go!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
My First (Accidental) Ultra-Marathon
On Friday, Jan. 6 I drove to SLC airport and hopped on a
plane at 5:00 p.m. bound for Dallas, Texas. I rented a minivan in Dallas and
started the drive to Big Fork, Arkansas (aka the middle of freakin’ nowhere) to
run the Athens Big Fork Trail Marathon. The drive was late and long, with
several wrong turns (a foreshadowing of the marathon?), long stretches through
podunk towns, and white-tailed deer all along the road. Thanks to my GPS and
the almost-dead-batteries, I finally found the little Community Center in Big
Fork.
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| Big Fork Community Center |
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| Big Fork Mall |
Runners were arriving, energy was building, and the
Community Center was filling with warmth and smoke from the wood-burning stove
that heated it. We had a little pre-race meeting which consisted of a few
warnings about losing the trail and getting lost. The race director asked: “How
many of you have run this before?” About half the hands went up. “And how many
of you have taken a wrong turn before?” The same hands all went up again.
Yikes. He emphasized that we should watch for the white slashes on the trees.
If we didn’t see white slashes for a while, we should turn around and find out
where we went wrong.
As soon as we started and got into the woods, I could see
why. There were several divergences from the trail. And even sections where the
trail was clear, it was often covered with inches of fallen leaves. And beneath
the leaves—rocks! It was by far the rockiest trail I’ve ever run. The Athens
Big Fork Marathon website contains the following warning:
If you are not an experienced trail runner, we happily invite you to one of the other UTS runs, BUT NOT THIS ONE. This is a difficult event on a difficult trail that presents many opportunities for one to get lost, injured, exhausted, or incapacitated—with sparse access for rescue?
Sound fun? I thought so too. Then I read the “additional
note” that followed:
Please do not be enticed into trying this run because of the difficulty warning—it is merely an honest attempt at preventing the run organizers from having to find and rescue someone ill-equipped for the event.
I was sold. How hard could it be, right? I mean there aren’t
really any true mountains in Arkansas, are there? I was living in Idaho, in the
shadow of the Tetons. I had run some trail races, a couple of them very
difficult, so I thought this would be about the same.
I was wrong.
This was by far the most difficult marathon I have ever run.
But the main cause of its difficulty is not specifically mentioned in the
warnings or on the website: rocks. That’s right, the rocky trail. The uneven,
unexpected, turn-your-ankles-to-rubber rocky surface of most of the trail. Even
the sections that appeared smooth as I approached them usually had rocks hiding
under the leaves.
Now, remember, this trail was hard to follow. It is not
groomed, it is not maintained, it is not an ATV trail, it is an old hiking
and/or horse trail through the woods, up and over Mountainette after
Mountainette (not quite big enough to be called mountains). So you have to
watch for the white slashes on the trees constantly or you will get lost. Yet
you have to look down at the trail constantly or you will break an ankle (I
turned each of my ankles during the race; my right ankle three times! Once,
quite hard, and it really made me timid for the last third of the race.)
Hence, I took a wrong turn once, twice, three times a lady.
Actually four times. The first wrong turn went like this: “Hey buddy,” I say to
the guy just ahead of me “Have you run this before?” “Yeah, a couple times.”
“Good, I’ll follow you.” Then we see runners coming back toward us: “Hey, you
guys are going the wrong way.” There went my confidence in anyone who had run
the race before.
My second wrong turn I was alone, and it went like this:
“Ah, this is nice running along the river. Finally the trail is smooth and
soft. Wait a minute. Where am I? Where are the white slashes on the trees? Are
there any other running shoe treads on the trail? Should I keep going? Go back?
Argh!” So I had to backtrack from the smooth river trail back to the rocky,
hilly trail.
This was an out-and-back course, so it was a little easier
to find the way back. But my third wrong turn was on the way back and it went
like this: “It sure has been a lot easier not getting lost on the way back. But
this rocky trail is going to be the death of me. Although, this part isn’t so
bad. In fact, it’s kind of smooth and soft, and nice running along the river …
wait a minute!” Sure enough, I had taken the SAME wrong turn I took on the way
in! Good grief.
But worst of all was the last one. It went like this: “I’m
SO glad we’re finally off that nasty, rocky trail and on the dirt road again.
Only ONE MILE TO GO! There’s a ribbon that marks the turns. But that doesn’t
look right. Am I REALLY supposed to turn here? I guess so if there’s a ribbon
here.” I stuck with that road until my Garmin read 27 miles. I was SURE I was
on the right road. Turns out, I was surely wrong. Double ugh. I had to
backtrack more than a mile.
Now, I have to admit, I didn’t really care. In
fact, I was kind of excited about it. When my watch hit 26.2 my time was 6:15.
That’s right, SIX HOURS and fifteen minutes, so I wasn’t exactly trying to make
a certain time. (Start of race: “Maybe I can finish in under five hours.”
Halfway point: “It took me three hours to get here, maybe I can get a negative
split and finish under six.” Mile 20: “If I finish without breaking an ankle or
getting lost in the woods overnight, I’m good.”) So I was kind of excited to be
running more than 26.2 miles because it was the first time I ever had, though I
can’t honestly call it running. More like walking briskly up hills and jogging
timidly down the other side.
Anyway, I ended up covering just about 30 miles in
6:50. Almost seven hours of running! Wow. I never thought I would do that. And
I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. By the way, the course record is 4:20. The
winning time in 2012 was just under five hours.
Now you might be thinking the Athens Big Fork Trail Marathon
sounds like a lot of fun. If you decide to try it, here are a few tips:
1. If you aren’t on a terribly rocky trail, you took a wrong
turn.
2. If you aren’t consistently turning your ankles, you took
a wrong turn.
3. If you aren’t bleeding from running through bushes and
briars, you took a wrong turn.
4. If your shoes aren’t wet from crossing stream after
stream, you took a wrong turn.
5. And if you haven’t taken a wrong turn yet, then you took
a wrong turn.
So that was my experience at the Athens Big Fork Trail
Marathon. In short, I loved it. After crossing the finish “line” (there’s no
line, just three guys clapping), you simply write your name, town, time, and
distance(!) in a spiral notebook, and then recuperate beside the warmth of the wood-burning stove.
And if you’re me, you get back in your minivan, stop for
post-race snacks in Mena (never heard of it? Neither had I), get lost a few
times on the drive back to Dallas, ask for directions, enjoy some friendly
southern hospitality as folk outside Kuntry Store scrap for 30 minutes over the
best way to Dallas (“It ain’t rite, it’s lift”), fight fatigue from only four
hours of sleep and seven hours of running, avoid white-tail deer, and finally
crash at the Hutchings Hotel. Same sweet spot where I stayed for the Cow Town
Marathon (Thanks Clint and Liz! Great to see you again). Then get up at five
and catch your flight back to SLC.
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| A Local Fan |
The lady in the seat next to me on the plane announced that
it was her first flight ever, and she was trembling with fear. I resisted the
temptation to mess with her (“What’s that buzzing sound? Why is the plane vibrating so much; I’ve never felt it do THAT before”) and I slept the whole way
to SLC. Yes, then I had to drive to Rexburg. Sheesh. Why do I do it? You’re not
the first to ask me that. Four reasons: 1) Vanity, 2) Pride, 3) It motivates me
to keep in shape (I’m coming up on five years of marathoning!) And 4) I enjoy
it. Ten states down, baby! My next race is in Sedona, Arizona, the first
weekend in February. I bought a 10 lb weight vest I’m going to experiment
training with. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Ironman, Here I Come!
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| 26 miles at 10 degrees |
I bought myself an early 40th birthday present (okay, a year early) and registered for the Florida Ironman Triathlon. I was getting a little stagnant during hunting season (I didn’t run at all in October, though I hiked all over tarnation) and I needed something to motivate me again. It worked. I’ve been swimming, biking, lifting weights, and running since I registered. I even enjoyed a 26 mile bike ride in 10 degree weather. Registering for the Ironman has made me excited again about working out. Hunting season, by the way, was a real adventure this year. We saw wolves, bears, big bulls (the day after my tag expired), but not a single buck. My boy got his first elk after a great hunt. Getting it out was a marathon in itself.
Slowest First Place Finish Ever?
That’s right, I came in first place at the Run With the
Horses race in Green River, Wyoming on Aug. 20, 2011. The whole family came
with me to this one. I love it when they come along. We drove from Morgan, Utah
where we were visiting my in-laws to Green River and arrived in time to enjoy
the river festival—a nice little community shin-dig with booths, games for the
kids (hoola-hoop contests, etc.), art galleries, hot rods on display, kayak
competitions, rubber duck races, a shrimp fry, and so on. It sounds more fun
that it actually was. You know how those things are, but we enjoyed it.
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| We had a nice stay at Little America |
We stayed about 20 minutes out of town in the Little America
Hotel because I wanted to tell my kids the story of my great Grandfather,
Stephen Mack Covey, who conceived of the resort after a spending a night alone
outside in a blizzard in that same area. His miserable experience inspired him
to build a place offering warm shelter, beds, and food to anyone else in the
future who might need it (I don’t know if his dream included a billboard every
5 miles reading NEXT STOP LITTLE AMERICA.) It was fun to stay there, but it
meant the family couldn’t come to the race because we only had one car and we weren’t
going to drag them to the start line at 5:00 a.m. only to have them wait for
four hours for dad to come back from running with some wild horses up in the
mountains.
So you’re already realizing the irony of this situation,
right? That’s right, I ended up finishing first, and no one, and I mean NO ONE,
not even strangers were there to cheer. It was hilarious. The race has a small
field, of course, and it’s an out-and-back course that basically runs up the
canyon and then back down again. And you do actually see wild horses. Pretty
cool. So I had been chasing a guy, trying to catch up with him almost the whole
way up. As I approached the half-way point, no one had come back the other way,
and I started to realize that I may be near the lead.
I saw the guy ahead of me turn around at the halfway point,
and when I got there, I asked the lady at the aid station, “How many people are
in front of me?” “Just that guy,” she said, gesturing to the guy about a
quarter mile ahead of me. I was in second place! I couldn’t believe it. I was
only running about an 8:15 pace. Well, as you can guess, I made sure I caught
up with that guy and passed him. I knew this would likely be the only chance in
my life I would have to finish a marathon first, so I was really pushing it on
the way down, and of course, I couldn’t stop looking behind me the whole way
down. I had visions of that guy catching me and passing me right near the end,
but my adrenaline ended up putting quite a bit of distance between me and him.
As I approached the finish line, there were no spectators. I
knew there wouldn’t be, and normally I don’t care about spectators at all, but
hey, I was in first place! Not a pair of hands clapping, not a stranger sipping
coffee to mutter, “Way to go, bud.” I just ran up to the spray-painted line on
the pavement and stopped. A volunteer noticed, jumped up out of her lawn chair,
and asked, “Did you just come in?” “Yeah,” I said. “I think you’re first,” she
said. It was hilarious.
It would have been nice to have the wife and kids there to
make a moment of it. Instead, they handed me this dorky plaque that you could
tell they had recycled from someone’s Eagle Scout award or something and placed
a spray-painted horseshoe on it instead. All the other finishers got a slab of
soda ash, which I guess is a mineral the town is known for mining. So I was
kind of jealous. But the ice cold watermelon at the finish was fabulous and I
ate a few melons-worth I believe. When I got back to Little America, my wife
asked, “How did you do?” I just smiled. “No way,” she said, “You got first
place!” She guessed it. I guess if nobody fast runs, a 3:42 will do it. We had
a good laugh over the plaque.
My Best Race Yet?
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| Fighting to the Finish Line |
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| Me, My Brother, and our Families |
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| Had a nice barefoot run along this beach in Tulum |
I trained consistently and was able to get pretty comfortable with the 7:30 pace, but the wild card is always the four miles up Summers hill near the end. I knew if I could keep it under 8 minute miles on the hill, I could finish near 3:15. Every 10-mile training run I did, I ran up that hill. And on my 20 miler, I looped it twice, something I had never done before.
The race went well from the beginning, the weather was nice, and I just felt strong going up the hill. I had shaved my legs (first time since qualifying for Boston), and I had bought a light-weight pair of Brooks bright-orange racing shoes. I even wore a pair of lightweight socks. I was trying to shave off every once I could to make a 3:15 possible for me on this course.
It paid off. It would’ve been nice to set a PR, but I missed it by a minute. The racing shoes felt a little hard beneath my feet by the end, but the lighter weight made a difference. I was very happy with my time for this course (it’s no St. George!) and it was fun to place third. I think the only way I’m going to get any faster at this point is if I can lose more weight. I’ve plateaued for quite some time now, and the distance running works up such an appetite. I can’t seem to get enough peanut butter toast and chocolate milk.
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| Finished at last |
Way to go, Bro!
I ran the SLC marathon for the second time on April 16, 2011, this time with my brother. It was his first marathon, and so fun to run it together. He lost thirty pounds, gained two babies (twins), and completed an MBA during the time he trained. Wow! He’s my first sibling to run a marathon with me. Our goal was 4:00 hours and we came in just over that at 4:04. He beat me by one second, the sneaky devil. Way to go, Bro! Hopefully, we’ll do another together again soon.
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