Let’s face it. I knew what I was getting in to when I signed up for this race. Not one person said that Beacon Rock was easy. I had a taste of the climb up Hamilton Mountain on our training day, and I had felt that burn in my legs. I had heard that the climb up Hardy Ridge was even more intense. Still, I clung to the hope that maybe all of my miles in training would make for a good race, that somehow I would find that magic sweet spot where the work was easy and I felt like I could run forever.
Ha ha ha.
That place is a myth, people.
I arrived at the start of the race ready to go. My legs were rested – two weeks of no running, in fact – so they were as fresh as they could be. No illness, no soreness, nothing to hold me back.
The race began with an absence of fanfare, my favorite kind of start. A quick downhill (most notable for the fact that this one last little uphill would be our reward for finishing), and then we began the climb. As is always the case, I was tempted to run the uphill. The adrenaline and the energy of the crowd combines in a powerful cocktail of confidence – the cocktail I usually suck down with gusto and lay down a couple of too fast miles that come back to haunt me. But I resisted the siren call of the run, and I diligently kept a powerful walk up the hill.
The early stages of the race are always the most challenging for me. My head comes alive with strategy, calculation, planning. I want to run. I feel like I can race well beyond my abilities. Possibility is alive; reality hasn’t set in.
And then we turned up the Hardy Ridge Trail.
Holy shit, I thought. This is the steep part that Sarah was telling me about. Steep like we seldom see on the trail – certainly not on Wildwood anyways. Put your hands on your quads and power up kind of steep. Finally we make it to the top and start catching the wide open spaces in the gorge. It is beautiful, but I’m breathing too hard to truly enjoy it. But then comes some down, and I get to know a gorge runner who shares mutual friends. We are nearly flattened by a powerful downhill runner; I spend quite a bit of mental energy being annoyed with the lack of trail etiquette. We hit the aid station, fuel up, and keep on going down. After a another mile and a half, I catch up with Desiree on our trek down to the start of the Hamilton Mountain loop. We are running well, chatting about life and family. When we finally switch to the uphill of Hamilton Mountain, it is a relief on my quads.
The Hamilton climb goes fairly well. I know what to expect here, and the switchbacks pass fairly quickly. Across the ridge where I nearly lose my hat, and down the cutoff trail to the aid station and then back to the finish of the first loop.
I pull in to the turn around in 3:26.
Mentally, this is a tough spot. Not that I thought of quitting, but that I knew what was waiting for me. The endless climbs. The punishing downhill. And knowing that if I were stopping now, I could enjoy a cold beer and hot food, listen to some bluegrass music. But this day was not about comfort. It was about pushing on when the mind said no. And so I did.
When I would begin to think about all the climbs I had left to do, I would panic a bit. So the focus became the next turn, the next crest of the hill. Climbing back up Hardy Ridge produced some of the most significant burn in my legs I have ever felt. Where I was able to climb without stopping on the first loop, I had to stop and rest a few times on the way up Hardy. I was able to pass a couple of women on the ups, but they would quickly catch me and pass me for good as we began to descend. If I had any doubt about my ultrarunning weakness, it was now gone. I descend like an old lady, so cautious that it destroys my quads. Yet one more thing to work on.
The climb up Hamilton was enough tougher. Physically, it did not create nearly the pain that Hardy Ridge did, but for some reason, the switchbacks towards the top seemed endlessly longer. I found myself frustrated and near tears when I couldn’t open my shot blocks. It was rough mentally. But finally, somehow, I reached the top and began the climb back down to the finish. As I crossed the ridge again, I noticed Desiree behind me and started anticipated her catching me.
The huge grin is a result of finally being up the stupid mountain.
As we neared the aid station, I stopped to wait for Desiree, who was just behind me. “Oh, you have headphones in!” she says to me, “I’ve been shouting at you!” Oops.
We commiserated for a bit and then began to chat of who knows what as we headed in for the least stop before the finish. Those last five miles breezed by, the mental battles soothed by the company of a fellow runner, and they were nearly easy. Nearly.
And while I couldn’t bring myself to run any of the last hill, a spirited jog in to the finish line was not out of the question. 7:31:40.
Ha ha ha.
That place is a myth, people.
I arrived at the start of the race ready to go. My legs were rested – two weeks of no running, in fact – so they were as fresh as they could be. No illness, no soreness, nothing to hold me back.
The race began with an absence of fanfare, my favorite kind of start. A quick downhill (most notable for the fact that this one last little uphill would be our reward for finishing), and then we began the climb. As is always the case, I was tempted to run the uphill. The adrenaline and the energy of the crowd combines in a powerful cocktail of confidence – the cocktail I usually suck down with gusto and lay down a couple of too fast miles that come back to haunt me. But I resisted the siren call of the run, and I diligently kept a powerful walk up the hill.
The early stages of the race are always the most challenging for me. My head comes alive with strategy, calculation, planning. I want to run. I feel like I can race well beyond my abilities. Possibility is alive; reality hasn’t set in.
And then we turned up the Hardy Ridge Trail.
Holy shit, I thought. This is the steep part that Sarah was telling me about. Steep like we seldom see on the trail – certainly not on Wildwood anyways. Put your hands on your quads and power up kind of steep. Finally we make it to the top and start catching the wide open spaces in the gorge. It is beautiful, but I’m breathing too hard to truly enjoy it. But then comes some down, and I get to know a gorge runner who shares mutual friends. We are nearly flattened by a powerful downhill runner; I spend quite a bit of mental energy being annoyed with the lack of trail etiquette. We hit the aid station, fuel up, and keep on going down. After a another mile and a half, I catch up with Desiree on our trek down to the start of the Hamilton Mountain loop. We are running well, chatting about life and family. When we finally switch to the uphill of Hamilton Mountain, it is a relief on my quads.
The Hamilton climb goes fairly well. I know what to expect here, and the switchbacks pass fairly quickly. Across the ridge where I nearly lose my hat, and down the cutoff trail to the aid station and then back to the finish of the first loop.
I pull in to the turn around in 3:26.
Mentally, this is a tough spot. Not that I thought of quitting, but that I knew what was waiting for me. The endless climbs. The punishing downhill. And knowing that if I were stopping now, I could enjoy a cold beer and hot food, listen to some bluegrass music. But this day was not about comfort. It was about pushing on when the mind said no. And so I did.
When I would begin to think about all the climbs I had left to do, I would panic a bit. So the focus became the next turn, the next crest of the hill. Climbing back up Hardy Ridge produced some of the most significant burn in my legs I have ever felt. Where I was able to climb without stopping on the first loop, I had to stop and rest a few times on the way up Hardy. I was able to pass a couple of women on the ups, but they would quickly catch me and pass me for good as we began to descend. If I had any doubt about my ultrarunning weakness, it was now gone. I descend like an old lady, so cautious that it destroys my quads. Yet one more thing to work on.
The climb up Hamilton was enough tougher. Physically, it did not create nearly the pain that Hardy Ridge did, but for some reason, the switchbacks towards the top seemed endlessly longer. I found myself frustrated and near tears when I couldn’t open my shot blocks. It was rough mentally. But finally, somehow, I reached the top and began the climb back down to the finish. As I crossed the ridge again, I noticed Desiree behind me and started anticipated her catching me.
The huge grin is a result of finally being up the stupid mountain.
As we neared the aid station, I stopped to wait for Desiree, who was just behind me. “Oh, you have headphones in!” she says to me, “I’ve been shouting at you!” Oops.
We commiserated for a bit and then began to chat of who knows what as we headed in for the least stop before the finish. Those last five miles breezed by, the mental battles soothed by the company of a fellow runner, and they were nearly easy. Nearly.
And while I couldn’t bring myself to run any of the last hill, a spirited jog in to the finish line was not out of the question. 7:31:40.
WOW! That looks amazing! Gorgeous trail. Congrats on finishing such a tough race.
ReplyDeleteAwesome Trail!! I love your sentence "this day was not about comfort. It was about pushing" I agree with you, Bcos it's the only way you can take the best of you out there. So, Im glad you did it and you finished it.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations!!