Town Forest Race Report

It's not like I want to decide who lives and who dies, but I really am okay with deciding who gets to park at the senior center and who must drive down the road, park at the DPW building, and walk an extra quarter mile to registration. It's one of the duties that goes along with helping direct traffic at the Town Forest Trail Race. It's quite hectic about 45 minutes before the start of the race. All the runners arrive at the same time, and we do our best to park what we can in the lot and in the woods at the senior center. But there's a large turnout, and we simply don't do this for a living.

Luckily, runners are a happy-go-lucky bunch, and other than a few stressed-out expressions on the faces of some late arrivals, everybody cooperates without a fuss. And I do mean everybody. Nobody parked in the fire lane or out on the highway, which would not sit well with the fire department or police, respectively.

But not only am I helping out with the race, but I'm also entered into it. So with very few minutes to spare, I'm off to my car to shed a few layers, pin on my race number, and quaff a GU. It only vaguely resembles Clark Kent using a phone booth. Grab a cup of Gatorade and hit the mens room. No line! Then off to the start of the race.

I'm literally the last person to arrive at the starting area, with exactly 10 minutes to go before the race starts. I bump into Razi and Kim in the crowd, and meet Kim's new friend Ken, who takes pictures of other runners while trail racing. Far away race director Paul Funch is making some announcements using a bull horn that I can barely hear. Kim asks me what he said. I reply "He sounds like Charlie Brown's dad". And we're off...

As background, this is only my second ever trail race. In my first attempt, I went off course and ended up with a DNF. No worries here, as the pack is relatively large, the course is extremely well marked, and wrong turns are marked off with police tape.

I've also been standing on my feet or walking around for several hours before the race, and haven't had a chance to do any pre-race rituals such as stretching. I normally don't stretch before running, but usually my legs aren't tight from being on my feet for hours either. So I start off and run a slow comfortable pace with Kim for the first mile. Except that we're running a sub-11 minute pace, and normally a training run in the woods is about a 13-minute pace for me. Okay, so how soon before I poop out and am forced to walk a bit like what happened in the half-marathon a month ago?

Except the weather is much cooler today. My legs loosen up. The pack starts to thin out. I take off, just in time to hit the single tracks going up and down steep hills.

I've never run a race on single tracks before. It's tricky to see the footing when you're following somebody. You worry about slipping and creating a domino effect of falling runners when going downhill. In front of one of the professional photographers. This would be what we call embarassing.

Passing takes cooperation on a single track. Usually, I was content to match the pace of the person in front, since by now I was really pushing myself way beyond what I usually do in training. My heart rate monitor is reading something in the 180s. I'm breathing very heavy. I don't pass the runners in front of me so much as they pull aside to take a walk break. And of course, with open trail in front of my I must step up the pace.

Running in the woods is actually a lot of fun. The trail is always turning or going up and down, so your mind is constantly busy figuring out where to place each step. You don't get the "brain off" effect you get running on the roads. The only time I slow to a walk is up the steeper sections of trail. And when I say steep, think of climbing a ladder.

I finally caught up with Ken the running photographer at.. well, I forget how far it was. But I do remember being about 50 feet behind him for about half a mile, before I was able to get close enough and catch enough breath to let him know I was there and get a few pictures snapped. I hope he got my good side!

And finally it's back to the relatively flat gravel road, and my watch let's me know I'm past the 3 mile mark. For reasons that I cannot fathom, I pick up the pace even more. I'm now running around an 8-minute pace. Heart rate is 190 and climbing and I don't care. I've got to much of an adrenaline rush going to worry about numbers. And the finish line is in sight! Maria gets a picture of me in full sprint on her iPhone. I finish around 35:10. Yahoo!

I hang around at the finish line for a while, walk back to the senior center and chow down on some yummy baked goods, but strangely don't get much of a sugar rush out of it. And more hanging out until all the runners have finished and it's time to clean up. It should be noted that after running through the woods for 35 minutes, over rocks and roots, the closest I come to face planting all day is when tripping over a chair in the senior center. Go figure.

The hardest part of cleanup is trying to remember how the tables senior center were laid out when we got there. Apparently they're very particular about things being put back in the same place. I picture Grandpa Simpson complaining about his favorite chair being an inch off of where it was last week.

And that was my first ever experience with the Town Forest Trail Race. A most excellent, low-key event.