Sometimes the experience is more important than the time
This was my 7th time running the Escarpment trail run. It's a really unique event in many ways. There may be tougher longer races in the northeastern USA, but this one is run on very challenging hiking trails, through a dense forest along the northern escarpment of the Catskill Mountains, entirely on a single-track, following an 18+ mile section of the long path trail. Though a few might seek out multiple similar races every year, for me (and I would guess for most) one race as challenging as this is enough for one year. This is a race where you compete less with others and more with the course itself. See http://escarpmenttrail.com for information.
The race attracts runners from different parts of the country and other countries as well. I see familiar faces every year, have gotten to know some, and finally made it to the pre-race party at Dick Vincent’s house this year. I talked new and old runners, put names and stories with faces, and was surprised to see Steve Tarry, who I knew as a top notch orienteering champion racer from almost 30 years ago. It turned out Steve had won the race 30 years ago, and was back for the first time since then, bringing his son along for the race this time. Steve told me it was he who had introduced Eric Weyman, a former two time Escarpment winner, to the race. His son Kyle placed an excellent 8th this year.
My training this year was going well into April, but got more difficult in May as we began to prepare our house for sale in a big way. I got in a single longer run of about 3 hours in late May, but then my training volume started to fall into June, as we had good luck with the house selling quickly in a bidding war, which is what you hope for but don’t expect in a sideways-down market. Then I got the flu in early July, and had just gotten back on my feet when I had to do a final push to clear out and prep the house for closing. I was beat from all that, and was putting in shorter runs here and there when I could, but didn’t have the time or energy for any kind of longer run. Eleven days before the race on July 20th I finally had the time and energy for a longer training run, and I enjoyed it so much I wrote about it.
In the days before the race I seemed to recover well, doing a few runs and a few bike rides. But I was somewhat concerned how fully I would recover. I felt some discomfort in my right Achilles tendon in the last few days before the race. I rested completely Friday and Saturday to give my body more of a chance to heal and recover, but I worried that I wasn’t that well adjusted to my shoes of preference, the Saucony Peregrines. They are great shoes, but they’re very lightweight and have a low heel, and I thought they might not give me enough support in the race, especially with a potentially sore Achilles’ tendon. So I took a chance and did a last minute shoe change and went with the more rugged Montrail mountain masochists instead, which I had done very little running in. I also decided not to wear a watch this year.
It was predicted to be sunny with moderate temperatures of low 70s at the start and higher 70s during the day. One hopes for it to be cooler, even cold at the start, but that has rarely happened in recent years. But there were reports that the trail wasn’t as wet this year, and that turned out to be true: my feet didn’t get wet the entire run, and the rocks were less slippery this year, which was a welcome change for those of us who ran the last few years with wet trail conditions.
We lined up at the start for the long climb up Windham High Peak, about 3.5 miles and 1700 vertical feet up. Given my lack of training, my goals for this year were to finish in the time limit, enjoy the run, and save enough energy to enjoy last section of the race that I enjoy running so much. With these goals I started at the very back of the pack, with less than 20 runners behind me when the pack finally funneled onto the single-track trail. I didn’t feel particularly fresh or fully recovered, but I felt ok, and determined to start out very slowly.
After the initial ‘excitement to finally be running’ phase, our back-of-the-pack group settled into a power hike up the climb, with just a little running in the flatter sections. I generally felt comfortable on the early part of the climb, but my legs weren’t feeling very fresh and were taking time to wake up. I knew it would be a long day, at least 5 hours for me, and I wanted to enjoy it – I didn’t want to suffer miserably later in the race this time.
For grizzled long distance racers, suffering may be taken for granted and something to push oneself to the edge for, but I decided that I want to pick my battles from now on, and that if I’m going to suffer very badly in a race in the future, I want it to be for a good reason. Toward the top of Windham as usual I was tired of going uphill and wanted to get the climb over with, but at the more relaxed pace I was able to settle into the run more than usual, and didn’t feel particularly taxed at the top. My legs were already weary, but I felt that with careful management of my energy they would last the day.
I knew from experience that eating early in the race was smart for me for two reasons. First, it slows me down to a more reasonable pace because it’s hard to eat and get food down if you’re going hard, and second, I can use all the glucose I can get into my system to preserve the glycogen in my legs for later in the run. So I began eating about 30 minutes into the run, nibbling on a balance bar, and would eat fairly consistently through the rest of the run. Even though my normal diet is low carbohydrate, that’s mainly for health reasons, and I take a practical approach during extreme exercise and don’t shy away from the normal race foods: sugar, maltodextrin, and some fruit.
After Windham, I knew the course had miles of rolling hills before the steep climb up Blackhead, and I didn’t want to burn too much energy or tire my legs out too much in that section, so after naturally passing a bunch of people on the first technical downhill, I deliberately followed a couple of people who I felt were going a little too slow, but whose pace I knew would leave me fresher for later in the race.
A couple of miles later I needed to pee, so I took one of the short side trails out to a view south and had a nice little break, even pausing for a moment extra to take in Blackhead, Black Dome, and Thomas Cole mountains, still pretty far away to the south. Back on the trail it was refreshing to find myself alone for a while, which let me settle into my own pace and allowed me to flow on the trail better. Those trails are a pretty tight single-track, with rocks and roots and undulations, and the line and foot placements you choose determine your efficiency of travel. Following others messes that up.
I know from experience and having worn a heart rate monitor in the past that it takes much more energy even for an easy jog on those trails than it does on a normal flat running surface. It can translate into 20 or more extra beats per minute of your heart rate, so if you’re walking up some of the hills, that’s part of the reason: the terrain is slower and generally taxes you more just to keep running. Because of the constant line and foot adjustments you have to make, it takes more energy.
After a mile or so I had one of the guys I’d been following earlier in sight again, got closer to him slowly, and passed him as the terrain got technical again right before the Blackhead climb. I wasn’t trying to pass people at that point, and was still deliberately going slowly to preserve myself for later, mainly for the climb up Stoppell mountain beginning at 12 miles into the course.
I’m always quick on the water stops and passed several people who were lingering at the base of Blackhead. I grabbed some food to eat on the way up, and put some water and Gatorade in my bottle. On the climb I just went slow, but felt better, and passed a person here and there, finally catching up to a small group of guys as I neared the top. The volunteers were again terrific, up there with fanfare and water. I took some and kept going, passing another 5 or 6 people who decided to hang out longer.
Just beginning the long and rolling descent from Blackhead into Dutcher Notch, one guy who had been just ahead of me on the climb came up behind me and I let him go by, but otherwise we were both passing people, more than 5 on the initial descent. People seemed to hesitate on the technical drops, and generally seemed to have weary legs. But I didn’t want to go hard, and just paced myself down, then settled into an easy jog across the flats at 3200 feet for a mile or so.
As the final steep descent into Dutcher came I caught up to a few other people, and passed them here and there on the way down. My legs felt ok, not too drained, not fresh enough to go hard, but seemed solid enough. At the water stop there several runners were milling around. I got water and food and kept going, starting up the climb using the old trick I learned a while ago, which is to take short quick steps instead of longer strides when going uphill.
The Stoppell climb is always the test for me in the race. It’s the last long climb, and comes after a hard downhill, so it takes time for your legs to transition to climbing again. If you’ve gone too hard at any point in the race until then and haven’t suffered yet, you will crack on Stoppell. So as I began climbing I really hoped my holding back earlier in the race would help me there, and it did: I felt pretty good on the first section, and was able to run the flats in the middle.
Stoppell is long though, and it seems to take forever. You just want to see the plane wreck and then run the ½ mile slightly uphill to the aid station, from where it’s about 4 miles mostly downhill to the finish. As I got to the steep second section of the climb I had passed a couple of people and had now caught up to a few others, but I was in no hurry to pass them and was happy just to hang on for a while, feeling tired but confident I wouldn’t crack and have to slow way down. After a while I had passed and left behind a few people and could see another group up ahead, but I was done with the steep part, and just after the plane wreck stopped and celebrated by taking a little break to pee again and then eat something for the final part of the race.
I felt pretty good at the aid station on Stoppell, with sore legs, but good energy from eating a lot. My quads were still in good condition and ready for the last part of the course, but I paced myself down to North Point and didn’t go hard: I would save that for the last part. On a 5+ hour race with only one long run under my belt, I was just happy to be feeling good, and didn’t want to push too hard at any point. I passed two people on the way to North Point, and was starting to feel confident that I could really enjoy the final section.
When you get to North Point it’s the most open and scenic part of the course. You have some views at other places, but most of the course until then is in the dense forest and you’re very focused on your footing and scoping the trail ahead. But you can’t help but look around a little and down at the lake near the finish at that point. I took a bit more water and Gatorade and continued, quickly passing 3 people who were hesitating down the first big ledge off of North Point.
Ok, now was the time to open it up a little and use up my quads, so I did. Where it was steep and technical I let myself go, and passed some people in various places. Where it was flatter I just worked at a steady pace and slowly caught up to others. I caught and passed about 20 in that final section, which was fun, but mainly I just love running the technical downhills and those rocky steep ledge sections that are 10 to 30 foot drops.
It was really great to actually feel good and have energy to run my favorite part of the course well, even if I went slowly for most of the race. In recent years I suffered badly on the Stoppell climb and was in rough shape and didn’t enjoy the race after that. If I ever get in shape and go for my PR again, I will gladly push and suffer some, but otherwise I want to run races like I did this year and enjoy the whole thing.
I was also happy that my knees felt good during the whole run this year, because I’ve had problems with them in the last few years. They’ll never be perfect again but the escarpment trail is a hard test, and they held up well. I was also glad I chose the Montrail shoes, which worked out perfectly: they saved my feet from many bumps and bruises and were the perfect shoe for my run this year. I had no problems with my Achilles and my quads held up well, but were sore and fully cooked by the end. The training run 11 days before the race worked well to wake up my body and remind it of the fact that I do these kinds of things sometimes. I had just enough recovery to get some benefit, especially for my quads.
In conclusion, I was able to gauge my effort well, loved the dry trail conditions, and met my goal of saving enough to really enjoy running the final technical section of the race. Overall it was a good experience this year, but I didn’t like running the race for the 4th year in a row without adequate training. How does one experience and rate a middling effort well into one’s running career? My answer is that if you’re not out there enjoying most or all of the experience, then you’re either doing the wrong thing or looking at it in the wrong way. But in particular, the Escarpment trail is always vivid and unique, and it can be very fun as well.
My time was 5:07, almost an hour over my PR set in 2006
The good:
- temps were in the 70s start to finish, and not too humid
- the trail was DRY and the best I’ve seen it
- I was very well heat acclimated
- my weight was just slightly over when I ran my PR
- I gauged my effort well and never suffered badly
- I enjoyed the last section and passed about 20 people there
- my single longer training run 11 days ago paid off well
The Bad:
- I wasn’t fit because my training in June and July fell off a cliff
- I couldn’t take full advantage of ideal trail conditions
