Seneca Creek Greenway Trail 50k 2008

Volunteers: You are awesome. All of you. Thank you for your time and effort, without you these events cannot occur. I never cease to be amazed at the dedication and support shown by the volunteers at every race, and you kept that trend alive and strong. From those flagging cars into the parking lot to those serving at the post race cookout, and everyone in between, I give a heartfelt thank you.

The day began with a 30-minute bus ride from the finish line to the start line. After signing in at the cold and windy pavilion, I had a few minutes to loosen up and try to stay warm. We proceeded to the gate/ starting line where Ed Schultz gave brief race instructions followed by a very casual, "3, 2, 1 get out of here." I made my immediate mad dash for the back of the pack. You see, I wasn't exactly trained up to run an ultra this time of year. Since completing the Philadelphia Marathon in November, I haven't run further than 12 miles. Also I have very limited experience on trails; most of my runs are treadmill and street/ asphalt paths. I knew it would be a long painful day.

The first 7 miles were quite flat and I was easily able to settle into a pace I felt I could maintain throughout the day. As advertised, the first several bridges were slippery, one even had ice. I was feeling good and mentally strong to handle the distance, especially over such a benign course. As I approached the first big water crossing I noticed a rope strung across to hold on to for support. I immediately thought of the pictures of last year's race where runners were calf deep in water. Thankfully this year was nothing like that, the water barely covered the stones and I had no problem crossing in my waterproof shoes. Then the rope came off of the final stake in the hands of the lady in front of me. I pictured human dominos falling into the water, myself as one of them. However, she was able to maintain her balance and a volunteer was quickly on scene to assist. I'm not sure how (or if) they were able to get the rope back in place but I wasn't going to wait around to find out.

After a certain point I began to feel like I was in the last group of runners on the course. I could look ahead and see a string of runners in the distance. Looking back, I could see no one. Was our group of about seven really the tail end of the race? I intended to go out slow, but I still had to make the 50K cut-off time. There were some runners behind me at the start, and at the water crossing, and I know they didn't all pass me, but where were they? Ok, settle down; just run your own race Brian. It was a windy day but I don't remember the wind being much of a factor. At one point while down in a valley you could hear the wind howling above but feel nothing down below, that was a bit eerie.

At some point in the first 5 - 10 miles I approached a group of people surrounding a lady lying on the ground. Word spread that she was hit by a deer. I've read stories about that happening but it was still a bit stunning. (Reading the web site, I am glad to see that she is ok with relatively minor damage compared to what could have happened.)

I was happy to reach the first Food Palace. After a quick sports drink fill up, I grabbed a few cookies and was on my way. After exiting, two people with GPS were able to confirm to me that we had traveled 7.1 miles. It had taken about 75 minutes, so I was on 10-11 minute pace, perhaps a bit faster than I wanted, but given the flat terrain and the fact that I was feeling great, I was happy to this point. Also that put my mind at ease about the 50K cut-off time. Then someone mentioned, "It's all uphill from here". Being somewhat knowledgeable about gravity, I knew that water flows downhill so the course had to be a net downhill. I wasn't going to fall for their trick. About that time we reached the first real hill of the course. It wouldn't be long before I saw it his way, maybe the course would be a "net" downhill, but hills would rule the day. There were only a couple of big climbs, but the rolling topology took its toll on me. My very few training runs at Patapsco Valley State Park prepared me for the terrain, but not the distance. In addition, it was a muddy day due to the rain the previous night which only complicated things.

The group I was following were machines: slowly jog up each hill, slowly jog down each hill, never changing pace. I very quickly adopted a strategy to walk up the hills and allow gravity to carry me down, falling behind on the upslope and catching up at the bottom. I thought about how I might be pounding my quads too much, but it's the only way I know how to handle downhill sections. Besides, the walk up each hill was refreshing. I don't have much experience on trails but it seems like the right thing to do. Coming out of the next food station (more sports drink, cookies, pretzels) I walked and ran with Dave for a while. He mentioned that he was closely following the group I was with and asked, "Where were the walk breaks?" We agreed that to walk up/ run down was the better strategy than to jog up/ jog down. It wasn't long before Dave showed he had more run in him than I, and he was on his way. I was starting to feel the pain gradually coming on, my walks getting longer and runs getting shorter. About this time I started to see signs for "Peeptown", to see the "peep show", to "skip the embalming fluid" and the promise of "stale peeps". Good, I'm not the only one that prefers stale peeps to fresh. The signs were definitely like traveling along I-95, seeing signs for South of the Border several hundred miles away.

Finally I reached Clopper Lake. I headed straight for the cookies, pretzels, soda, and anything else they may have had to offer. A volunteer asked if I were doing the marathon or 50K. I was tiring for sure, but never considered the short version an option. It's only four miles further; of course I'm doing the lap around the lake. I thought about how later (say, mile 29 or so) I might change my mind on the whole "only four miles further" thought pattern, but I would just have to deal with it. She pointed me to the lake lap while I stuffed the final handful of junk food into my mouth, and I was on my way.

Good ole' Clopper Lake. Serene, peaceful, gentle, as you would expect with any lake. Unfortunately, the trail around the lake was nothing like that. I read a race report from a prior year where someone almost got lost on the loop around the lake. I had a similar problem. At the very beginning of the loop the road split and I didn't know which way to go. Two runners in front of me were confused also, then a few seconds later someone came along that pointed the way up the hill to a parking lot and on to the race route. Yes, up a hill, and that was the first sign that it wasn't going to be a nice flat run around the edge of the lake. The lake loop actually wasn't any worse than the rest of the course, but mentally I was prepared to settle down for a couple of easy miles and it didn't happen. That made it feel a little more difficult. Also, I kept hearing what sounded like creaking trees blowing in the wind, maybe ready to fall over on me. For all I know it may have been strange animal sounds that I wasn't familiar with (distorted woodpeckers, frogs or geese came to mind but not like I've heard before). As I rounded the lake I could look across and see people a half lap behind me so I felt good that I was well on pace to finish under all time cutoffs. In fact, I believe I left the lake at about 3-1/2 hours. A volunteer confirmed that I was "way ahead" of cutoff. I knew the last half (less than half by the end of the loop) would be much slower.

After a second stop at the lake food stand it was back on the trail. I went a mile or two without seeing anyone else in front or behind. It felt as though I were the only one on the course. It was quite a free feeling, just nature and me. At this point I was walking most of the time and was waiting for others to catch me, but they must have been walking too. Eventually a group, and then others passed by. I let their tide lift my boat to a more consistent jog for a while. Not wanting to overdo it, I slowed to talk with another runner, Lisa. After a couple of miles of nice conversation I passed her by and did not see her again. Imagine my surprise when I looked in the results and saw that she beat me to the finish line by a full 10 minutes! Either she passed me while I was at a refueling station or on the course while I was in zombie mode. In any event, nice job Lisa and congrats on your return to marathoning!

I jogged ahead a little further as best as I could and met up with another runner-turned-walker. We walked and jogged a bit, a couple of hurtin' pups. By this point in the race there were a lot of us on the course, just trying to drag ourselves to the finish line. I moved ahead to be greeted by the signs "Peeptown two miles ahead" and "Peeptown - one mile". Then finally I arrived.

I pulled into Peeptown and went straight to the peeps. I was hoping the promise of stale peeps meant a 1990s vintage. However, they tasted more of 2007 or 2008. It didn't matter, they were tasty. Then I noticed the box for a peep show. A peep show? Seriously, of all the things I never thought I'd see during a race. Oh yes, it was a peep show in more ways than one. And it was free! Not like the ones in New York City where, uhh, I mean, that's what my friends tell me. Given the choice between a sports drink and Seneca Creek water, I went for the sports drink. I downed more junk food then back on the trail for the final 6 or 7 miles.

I ended up walking most of last 8 or 9 miles of the race which was fine by me. I entertained myself by altering lyrics to songs. Perhaps you heard me singing, "Walking Down A Dream", "Walking on Empty" (how fitting), and "Walk Don't Run" (had to hum that one).

Did anyone notice the jug of hooch hanging in the tree in the last five miles? Don't pretend you didn't, it was empty by the time I got there. Thanks for not saving me a sip; I don't think you were supposed to refill your entire bottle from it.

I reached the final food frenzy with about 2.5 miles to go. Immediately after leaving and reentering the trail, in front of me stood what I can only describe as a stairway to heaven. It looked daunting. The bottom step looked as much like a bench as anything I'd seen after spending all day in the park, so I sat down in hopes that someone would come along to carry me up the hill. After a minute and no help had arrived, I made my way up in what is quite possibly the slowest time possible without stumbling and tumbling back down the hill. I had been informed that this would be the last big climb of the day which made it a little easier task to handle.

Near end of race, I kept saying to myself "RFP. Relentless Forward Progress. It may be slow RFP, but RFP nonetheless". After a few minutes of telling that to myself, I heard a group coming up behind and someone said out loud, "Relentless Forward Progress. It's slow but forward." That freaked me out a bit, but confirmed that I was in the right state of mind.

Finally I reached the road. It was reported that the last mile was paved so I knew I was close to the finish. I found a surge of energy for the final half mile and felt like I covered it at 8-1/2 to 9 minute mile pace, which would make it my fastest half mile of the race. My final time was 6:54:52. I like those "x hour, fifty-high minute" finishes, as though I am just beating a milestone.

It was amusing to read Mark Zimmerman's report. As he showed me the way from the area where the clock stops to the real finish line (the cookout), cries of "Sandbagger!" rained down upon him.

I waited a few days to do my race report based on the experience of my only other ultra, JFK, which took a few days before I could think straight and get past the "NEVER AGAIN!" feelings. During this race, it was only for a very short time that I was asking myself why I was putting myself through it based on the little training I had done. The camaraderie with fellow runners definitely helped me get through it. As soon as it ended I was already thinking ahead to the next one. My original goal for this year was to train up to Laurel Highlands, but I don't see any way possible that I'll be ready for 70 miles of rugged western Pennsylvania mountains. I found a 40 miler in the rugged West Virginia mountains the same day; maybe I'll try that one. My glutes and hips hurt for a couple of days after the race but all is now well. I found this race to be extremely well organized, had beautiful scenery and was a lot of fun. Thank you to everyone that made this day possible.

- Brian Nist