Belly shot! (as always) at the Megatransect, 26 miles, Lock Haven, PA Sept. 28, 2013

boulder section over — just 20 miles to go!

This is the last time I’m gonna say it: Wussies, you all are missing out on a treasure trove of beautiful, challenging technical trail races just a short ways north in Pennsylania (we drove there in 3.5 hrs on Friday) that are impeccably organized with hard competition and great shwag (check out videos and photos at the website).  Greg Zaruba (who has no excuse not to come to WUS now that he has a trail-running lady friend in Cleveland Park) is the only other one who gets it that these races are AWESOME.  The fact that it takes the first male 4.5 hours to complete the ~26-mile Megatransect is testament to how gnarly this trail is (it runs more like a tough 50k).  The iconic section is the 1-mile boulder field ascent that occurs around mile 6, which is made all the more challenging by the fact that you can’t use your hands to help navigate the rocks because you’ve been forewarned that the rock field is home to copperheads and rattlers.  Although the weather was cool enough today that the snakes were unlikely to be active yet, I was still inclined to keep my nose out of chomping distance.

the cult of the mega

The Mega is an extremely popular race: the field of 900 sells out in 2 hours on New Year’s Day, nine months before the event is held.  I failed to sign up (I was off doing the Redeye), but there were so many computer glitches during registration that a few more spots opened up and I was able to snag a spot a week later.  As soon as I saw that spots were open, I emailed Zaruba so he could enter as well, as we had run together at the Magnus Gluteus in December and spent several miles fawning over the beauty and gnarliness of Pennsylvania trail races.

me and Kathy, post-Mega

Greg had initially wanted to camp at the start/finish area, but with temperatures in the 30s at night I wasn’t so keen.  Fortunately my wonderful friend Kathy is always generous about letting me stay at her place when I visit State College, so Greg and I were able to crash with her.  The Tussey MountainBack relay is only a couple weeks away, so also took advantage of our trip to State College to have Happy Hour with my team and sort out our shirt designs and leg assignments (tricky because some legs are flatter and longer and other legs are shorter but hillier, so it’s not clear which is more suited for the slower runner).  Now that my former PhD advisor Eddie has moved to the University of Sydney I don’t get up to State College so frequently, so it was great to have a chance to catch up with the gang over some pitchers.

Neither Greg nor myself were planning to treat Mega as anything but a long enjoyable day in the woods.  Greg has the Oil Creek 100 next week.  And I had already expended all my competitive juices at the Women’s Half two weeks ago.  But of course Zaruba blasted out at the start and I had to go chase after him.  That would become the theme of the run, as I let Zaruba go again as I took some time to adjust to the rocks early on.  After 10 miles or so I finally figured out that I felt all wobbly on the rocks because my shoes weren’t snug enough.  Once I adjusted the laces I was good to go, but by that time Zaruba had a good 5+ minutes on me (I couldn’t even see him during the slow mile-long boulder climb when you have a long field of vision).  Nor could I spot the first-place woman, who was also up with Zaruba (who turned out to be my friend Meira, a perennial winner of the Mega, Hyner, Rothrock, and the other major PA trail races).

I wondered whether I would  ever catch Greg and Meira.  But this was a race I wasn’t going to push, and I just kept going my own pace.  And there was plenty to enjoy along the way: beautiful vistas over the valley, fields of ferns turning their autumn hues, massive waterfalls.  Every year the Mega designs a new course (and each year a little longer), so every year brings new scenic surprises.

I caught up to Meira at around mile 14 at the fatty waterfall (she had fallen several times and described her day as a ‘mudfest’), and to Zaruba shortly thereafter.  Greg and I ran together for a while until I got a large rock in my shoe during a creek crossing.  By the time I got my shoe back on again, two more runners had passed and Zaruba was out of sight.  I passed those guys back and made an effort to catch Greg.  But I had to stop at an aid station and re-fill my bladder, which took a couple minutes.  And after already catching up to Zaruba twice that day, I had lost some of my zeal for chasing Greg all day.

So instead I ran alone.  I passed a couple more guys, but never saw Zaruba again until the finish.  I was in good spirits, the course was spectacular, full of rocks and roots and hazards.  Perfect for someone like me who gets bored easily.  There were loads of lethal 2-inch stumps that I kept getting snagged on, but I managed not to fall the whole day.  I had a hard near miss where I really should have gone down, but my legs had the strength to catch me, which I found surprising so late in the race.

After the mile 22 aid station the course went up a gravel road briefly and then turned back into the woods onto single track.  Unfortunately I didn’t see the blaze for the turn (all other major intersections had volunteers directing — overall the course was impeccably marked) and kept heading up the steep gravel road.  I didn’t see any blazes for a while, but thought they might have figured they weren’t necessary on a straight road.  But after what was at least a half mile I got a sinking feeling about the lack of blazes.  It was so late in the race I desperately didn’t want to backtrack.  But after there were still no blazes after another bend, I made myself trot back down.

My heart sank when I saw the ribbon going into the woods, realizing that I probably had lost the lead.  But there was nothing to do but solider on.  At this point the race decided to kick a girl while she was down, and I had to ascend the most gruelingly steep and long climb of the day.  Just as I desperately needed some sugar and energy, my gel malfunctioned (I ripped the top off, but it didn’t make a hole and no matter how I tried to use my fangs to spear the gel like a rabid wolf I could not extract the liquid inside).  My heart sank even further when I spotted a guy I had passed miles ago at the top of the climb, giving me an indication of just how much ground I had lost during my ‘bonus miles’.

But I eventually passed him back and received confirmation from a volunteer along the course that I was still the first female, and finished the race in a good mood, despite the wicked ‘Green Mile’ finish — a mile straightaway of high grass along a highway.  The finish area was wonderful — free barbecue chicken and pizza and great beer for all.  My friend Kathy was waiting at the finish, along with Greg, who seems to know every PA trail runner (so there was lots of schmoozing).  Kathy’s quasi boyfriend Dan also ran (who quickly became a winner in my book after informing us that he owns a stable of Arabians he competes in endurance riding).

winners pose for the newspaper photo

The Mega doesn’t give prizes for winners, but every runner got a great zip-up sweatshirt that was  superior to most race prizes I’ve gotten.  In many ways the Mega is a classic that has remained true to the roots of ultra running, where the emphasis is more on enjoying a beautiful day in the woods than on finish order, even among the top runners.  At several times I had to plant my feet and take in the view for a couple moments.

The registration process for Mega is admittedly an ordeal.  At the finish area they were even selling t-shirts that said ‘I Survived the Mega Registration’.  But its cult following reveals it’s worth it.  Wussies who like challenging courses should go see for themselves.

RESULTS

Grand Canyon, Zion NP, and Bryce Canyon with the Italianos

September 2013

zion np

Five recommendations for wussies traveling to Arizona and Utah:

(1) Definitely visit Kerry, Doug, Joe, and Michele in Sedona.  Even if they happen to not be there (a rarity for Joe).  If we move to Minnesota, maybe I can maintain my sanity by joining the real estate Red Train to Sedona.

(2) If possible, travel with Italianos.

(3) Caveat: if you do travel with Italianos, make sure you prep them for the quality of the American coffee they will encounter, the difficulty of finding beer on a Sunday in Utah, and the tendency for Americans to masquerade fried cheese curds as ravioli.

bryce np

(4) Two words: BRYCE CANYON.  Big yes.  [If you stay at Bryce Canyon we highly recommend the nearby town of Hatch, Utah as a delightful road stop where you can get a clean cheap room (you have to go over to the gas station with cash to purchase it) and an excellent hole-in-the-wall pulled pork BBQ.]

(5) Bring along a boyfriend who takes good pictures.  We haven’t even downloaded Aaron’s high quality shots yet, these are just from my iPhone camera:

test

VHTRC Women’s Half Marathon

Bull Run Regional Park, Manassas, VA

September 14, 2013

Clapper’s vision of the WHM finally comes to fruition

All of the elements were in place for a big performance.  Fall had arrived early and the crisp morning was a stark contrast to the soggy heat of previous Women’s Half Marathons, which always felt like summer’s last putrid burp.  I had increased my weekly mileage from the 40s-to-occassional50s range to 50s-to-occassional60s range during late July and August, and the added fitness had already shown at the St Paul Urban Trail marathon.  But more importantly, I had a fire lit under me.  The prospect of moving to Minnesota in 2014 was looming and I couldn’t be sure when I would be in town again for another WHM.  If I were going to leave a mark on the course, a mark that would survive the carousel of speedy young things that come through each year, it would have to be today.

The fire was further fanned at the starting line by the appearance of Sonja (pronounced SON-ja, as they apparently say in Central Pennsylvania).  In today’s cool weather there was definitely more bodily coverage among the female racers than in previous years.  Heck, moments before the race started I had to convince crazy Robin to take off her long-sleeve.  Now Sonja is a perfectly nice person, and I even had invited her to run with WUS last October.  But if my embers weren’t already hot enough, all I needed was to see Sonja traipse up to the starting line in her itsy leopard print shorts (I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves here) to kick the flame up a notch.

photo courtesy of keith

One of my habits at the starting line is to identify runners who I will take particular relish in picking off during the race, based on what they are wearing.  I won’t go into great detail about the fashion faux pas that really set me off, but Jen R and I have a very aligned views on this matter.  In fact, I think the only reason Jen still shows up for the Women’s Half is for the chance to stand at the start with me pointing out the hot young things in overcooked regalia for me to cut down.  ‘Martha, you GOTTA see this girl, you’re gonna DIE,’ Jen told me at this year’s start.  I scoured the field for the tasty morsel.  Then I saw her, walking down the hill with her father.  ‘Oh my god, Jen, I KNOW her.  That’s Sonja.’

I had been licking my lips for nine months for a chance to throw it down with Ms. Sonja, ever since last October when Sonja’s butt cheeks had gotten between myself and a much-desired post-race beer and sandwich.  Dear Aaron would sooner get between a mamma grizzly and her cub than between me and a sandwich.  I not-so-patiently waited over an hour for my male teammates-turned-zombies-from-overexposure-to-typically-concealed-female-body-parts to get their final drooling gaze of Sonja’s hind as it crossed the Tussey MountainBack finish line before they would join me at the post-race celebration.  When Sonja finally arrived they whooped and hollered like steroidal orangutans.  I hadn’t seen such decay of the male brain since the Preakness infield.  Now this was just the icing on the cake — I had spent a good part of the prior six hours of the Tussey 50-mile relay race trying to herd these drooling monkeys away from their Sonja-viewing spots they’d stamped out and into the damn van so they would be at the next transition zone before our teammate arrived.  And when I finally got those zombies loaded in, I had to listen to nothing but guy-talk where Sonja the butt of every dirty joke (pun intended).

keith gets mad props for cutting sonja out of this picture so I can be front and center (ps – what you see here is my true Game Face)

When we lined up for the start of the race today, I did not place myself front and center but a row or so back, and to the side.  Some people commented on this after the race as a display of false modesty.  But I have a style: I like to hold myself back until I’m really chomping at the bit, and then only kick it up when I can’t hold it back any longer.  This might take 10 miles or 10 minutes.  Today it only took 10 meters.

happy kirstin

Every time I run the WHM I get nostalgic about how carefree I ran it the first time back in 2009, my virginal VHTRC trail race.  How I just enjoyed myself, utterly clueless about where the course went (Sean A told me the Doo Loop was in the second half so I was all befuddled), what the course record time was, or what skirts were back there chasing after me.  I was so confused about trail running etiquette that I got to the first aid station after the Do Loop and hung around chatting with Mario R. popping chips and soda.  After 30 or so seconds elapsed I turned to Mario, ‘Do you think it’s okay to go now?’  This year I had every reason to be more comfortable and confident: running faster, stronger, and leading by a wider margin over second place.  No matter, I’ll never be able to go back to being that relaxed.  As I told Greg Z. earlier this week, in this race I’ll always be the little fox scurrying for its life with the English hounds at its heels.

I went into this year’s race on particularly shaky footing.  Part of my doubt came from recently increased weekly mileage, which has made my legs sloggier at the beginnings of runs.   It was a foreign sensation and I worried that I had put on too many miles too quickly in August and was heading into the race with legs that were much less fresh than in past years.  The timing of my period before the race only exacerbated this sloggy dead-leg feeling.  And I’ve also suffered from a general feeling of angst lately that’s directly related to my recent faculty job hunt.  Now I know that I should be relieved to have verbal offers for tenure-track positions at two excellent universities (University of Minnesota and University of Glasgow).  But I haven’t yet committed to a university, it’s all still in limbo, and frankly I’ve found the months of applying, interviewing, and negotiating to be deeply draining.  Throw on top of that all the emotional angst wrapped up in the prospect of leaving DC and starting a new life in an unfamiliar (and potentially frigid) city.  My little train wreck of a head has somehow equated getting a tenure track position with a commitment to finally concede to entering adulthood and assuming all the responsibilities that come with it.  No wonder I’m panicking.

I consider my chronic angst to be a natural part of being a Jew, in the vein of Woody Allen, Marc Maron, and other Jewish entertainers who use their neurotic tendencies to their great comedic advantage.  Aaron of course does not suffer the same fate because his mother was not born Jewish and therefore his brain did not develop within the juices of self-doubt and neurotic terror that reside within a Jewish mother’s womb.  Hence the reason why I entirely agree with the Jewish law that dictates that Jewishness is determined solely by your maternal lineage and your early embryonic environment (as opposed to Christian law, which follows the paternal lineage).  Aaron assures me that not all Jews are defined by neurotic self-loathing, which applies mainly to the New York segment of Jewery from which my maternal lineage harks (Rye, New York, to be specific).

At any rate, it is my experience that Jewish anxiety is ingrained and entrenched from such an early intrauterine environment that it will never go away.  But unlike depression and other mental disorders, anxiety can effectively be combated with humor, which likely explains why there are so many Jewish comedians.  Rationalization can also weaken anxiety by actively recalling examples of trepidations that never came to pass (e.g., Yeah, remember that time when you really thought that you were an incompetent imbecile who was going to get fired and end up homeless and living in Rock Creek Park under Klingle Bridge?  Now did that really happen?).

I tried to strut and look hard for this picture.  Instead I look like a dopey bird watcher.

Thanks to a combination of factors — my underlying fitness resulting from Aaron’s encouragement to increase my weekly mileage, the competitive spark triggered by Sonja’s delightful bun-huggers, and the way that seeing VHTRC friends always puts me at ease pre-race (I particularly appreciated Matt W’s wonderful surprise appearance and Jen R’s biting starting line commentary) — I fortunately hit my stride fast and early and let my little legs pound their way out of trouble.  By the time I saw Aaron at mile 6, I was a different kid, relaxed and smiling.  Other than my right hamstring, which has plagued me incessantly for nine months and hurts whenever I try to run hard, the race was a gift.  I couldn’t have asked for more.  Beautiful day, so many friends, gorgeous flowers, delicious smoothies (I generally don’t like smoothies, but I sure like Mario’s).  This truly is my favorite race.

hey sonja, you want a bourbon smoothie?

After the race I did speak to Sonja, who was bleeding from her shoulder and leg from two falls (and her arm was wrapped from a previous fall).  She’s obviously an extremely talented runner, just needs to master those rocks and roots.  I brought up some things we had in common — I had been at Penn State at the same time as she had run there, and how I recognized her from last year’s Tussey.  She replied, ‘Oh, are you the woman who interviewed me after the race?’  Pause.  ‘I believe that was a petite redhead named Tara.’  I decided I needn’t bother renewing last October’s invitation to WUS, as Keith & co probably had ten times already.  Although I might try to get her to sign up for Bull Run, as that would greatly increase my chances of winning the race outright.  Finish order: me, Sonja, pack of 30 men…..

robin smashes her PR

Robin also ran a great race this year (personally, I’m nominating Robin for Most Improved Runner of the Year for VHTRC — I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more), and I was curious whether Robin and Sonja’s solid low-40s times would fall in the top 10 in the history of WHM finishes.  Here’s a rough list (it may not be exhaustive, but it looks like they both fall within the top 15 and could have won in several of the years in the era BM).

WHM top times.

1-4. me (1:33 ’13, 1:37 ’09, 1:37 ’12, 1:39 ’11)

5-6. Ragan (1:40 ’11, 1:40 ’12)

7. Heather (1:40 ’05)

8. Eliza (1:40 ’11)

9. Heather (1:43:09 ’10)

10-11. Laura Nelson (1:43:11 ’05) Robyn Ritter (1:43:11 ’09)

12. Sonja 1:43:26 ’13

13. Kristin Eddy 1:43:50 ’07

14. Robin 1:44:28 ’13

sarah wright!

St. Paul Urban Trail Marathon (26.2 mi)

August 24, 2013

St. Paul, MN

I almost didn’t run the St. Paul Urban Trail Marathon because Aaron and I nearly cancelled our whole August trip to Minnesota.  I had been coaxed to time a work trip to visit the University of Minnesota to coincide with the Minnesota State Fair, purportedly the largest state fair in the United States.  I’ve been studying influenza virus dynamics at the human-swine interface for several years now, so seeing the hog area at the state fair would round out my understanding of human-pig interactions in an ag fair setting.  Oh, and the fair was rumored to host a smorgasbord of delights like donut beer and fried cheese curds.  When we discovered that the St. Paul Urban Trail Marathon (60% dirt/grass trail, 30% bike trail, 10% road) also coincided with the planned visit, well hell’s bell’s, we planned us a pig-marathon weekend!

The 1,000+ pound champion hog

But in addition to getting Lyme disease, Aaron’s company ActivTrax has been going through some big transitions and the timing of a major office move unfortunately coincided with our planned Minnesota trip.  Part of the motivation for the trip was for Aaron to visit Minneapolis for the first time, as I have been seriously considering taking a faculty position at the University of Minnesota at the College of Veterinary Medicine.

Start of the St Paul Urban Trail Marathon

The early course was on bike trail

So we almost cancelled the trip entirely.  But then my old friend Sarah Wright came on board.  Sarah and I met in 4th grade and spent our childhoods playing on all our crazy sports teams together: we played soccer together on the Potomac Red Devils, we were Rec league 7th grade basketball champions (Sarah’s dad was our famously old-school high school basketball coach), we played B-CC High School field hockey together (after freshman field hockey I went on to be a long distance runner; Sarah stayed on to be multi-time Maryland State Champion and captain of the Duke field hockey team), and we did Rec Club ski middle school ski trips together to Wisp, Seven Springs, and Greek Peek.

After college Sarah and I decided to be adventurous and backpack around South-east Asia together for a couple months.  Needless to say, Sarah has many stories about me.  Sarah, myself, and our other high school friend Rosie typically get together every year for a Girls Weekend (see previous Summerfest post).  But Rosie just had a baby and no weekend had been planned for 2013.  So when Sarah said she was interested in driving from her home in Milwaukee to run the St. Paul trail race with me (the 10k version), I ditched Aaron in DC and jetted on over to meet her in Minneapolis.

Random person, but I wanted a picture of the nice part of the trail

The race had 500 people spread across the 10k, half-marathon, and marathon distances.  It was a bit tricky to pace because everyone started together, no elevation profile for the course was provided, and the first half was faster bike trail and road and easily tempted you into going too fast before the much hillier second half in Battle Creek Park (although with no elevation profile, you had no idea it would be so hilly).  They moved the race start up an hour because of the heat advisory.  This was only a heat advisory by Minnesota standards: it was in the 70s at the start and crept into the 80s and sunny by mid-day.  But I’m DC heat-trained thanks to Catherines, and I was able to run away with the race in the second half, finishing first overall in 3:07.  I felt very comfortable, relaxed, and there was great camaraderie on the trail from the heaps of exceedingly friendly Minnesotan volunteers, who were particularly excited about a female leading the whole race.  I’m so connected to DC and the running community here and the prospect of moving to Minnesota is so daunting, it meant a lot to  feel welcome and at home in a new city.  Although I need to teach them that the term is ‘chicked’, not ‘girled’.

Izzy’s….yum

Despite not really training, Sarah cruised to a sub-1 hour 10k and enjoyed her race as well.  Afterwards we met my friend Doug from UMN and his boyfriend Jason and went to The Strip Club for an awesome post-race steak tartar and eggs, followed by ice cream at Izzy’s.  Doug was even kind enough to let me wash my really stinky clothes in his washer rather than let them decay in my hotel room for the next couple days.  Saint Douglas.

To appreciated this picture you really should see the movie with Jennifer Gardner ‘Butter’

Sarah and I took big naps, and then rallied Saturday evening to meet my friend Andres to enjoy another Minneapolis summer tradition: drinking on rooftop bars.  Even though I’m scared shitless by the Minnesota winter, I am really pleased with the culture of the city — laid back, artsy, good food and drink, people who seem to know how to enjoy simple pleasures in life.

newborn lambs at the ‘Miracle of Birth’ barn

Sunday morning Sarah and I woke up bright and early to beat the crowds to the Minnesota State Fair ‘Miracle of Birth’ barn, where we saw two little lambs and three little piglets born right before our eyes.

Sarah and the goat

There was lots of crazy food to eat (Marie raved about the donut beer) and competitions to watch (including butter-sculpting), but the thrill of the newborns was by far the highlight of the fair for us.  Just as we were leaving, we ran into the friends we had met at the barn in their full regalia: the Budweiser Clydesdales.

Lookin’ dapper

So, wait, why is this blog called ‘Sisu’??  If you notice on the St. Paul Urban Trail Marathon website, the header says Go Sisu.  Minnesota, as you may know, is a mecca for Scandinavians.  I have memories of my Finnish grandmother telling me that I had ‘sisu’ as a child, which is Finnish for something along the lines of ‘strength’ or ‘guts’.  Finns are very proud of their steely reputation for jumping into frozen lakes and holding off the Soviets single-handed during the Winter War.  There is a picture on my wall of my grandmother holding a sign for me along the course of the 2006 Boston Marathon that says ‘Martha Has Sisu.’  A part of me that feels like going to Minnesota is returning to my Scandinavian roots, to the land of Sisu.

Grandma’s father was a Finnish miler

I decided to start a list:

Trail races I have done

And would love to do again some time:  Women’s Half Marathon, Promise Land 50k, Highland Sky 40M, Laurel Highlands 50k/70M, Laugavegur 55k (Iceland), Escarpment Trail Run

 And were pleasant enough to do again: Dam Half, Fire on the Mountain 50k, Holiday Lake 50k, Swinging Bridge, All the VHTRC fat asses

Trail races I have not done

 And would very much like to do (within the next 5 years): Bull Run 50M, Where’s Waldo 100k, White River 50M, Megatransect (doing in Sept)

 And would very much like to do (within the next 10 years): MMT, Zane Grey 50M, Wasatch, Miwok 100k

And have minor interest in: Grindstone 100, Mountain Masochist 50, North Face, The Ring, Western States 100

And will never do: JFK 50

And belong in a category of its own: Hellgate 100k