Year: 2011
Marthon wins Fire on the Mountain 50k
Fire on the Mountain 50k
Flintstone, MD
November 6, 2011
http://www.phdispatch.com/FOTM_2011_results.html
WUS represent! All 3 wussies (Aaron Schwartzbard, Martha Nelson, Selena Smart) make the post-race headline.
A race sponsored by SHEETZ! How could a wussie pass up?? They had Sheetz shirts, Sheetz bags, they even had a little Sheetz truck at the finish line serving free Sheetz smoothies, coffees, hot chocolate, and other goodies. Where the heck was Andrish?? Honestly, Seanie would have LOVED this course and this race. The terrain was rocky and full of deep stream crossings (the race director said he stopped counting them after 30 or so). It’s not trivial to negotiate those rocks in completely numb feet (continually re-numbed by the icy waters), and Selena and I both have black toenails to show for — not so much fun to kick rocks with numb toes. (For those who don’t know, Selena Smart is my former high school track & XC coach who is now a mother of 3 crazy boys in Van Ness but is still running and technically a wussie, having done a WUS with Keith, Dave Rees, and myself back one summer eve. Back in the day I thought Selena was a tyrant bent on destroying teenage runnergirls)
This race was all Selena’s idea. She emailed me that she was doing this race about a month or so ago. I was torn because it was scheduled for the same day as Marine Corps Marathon and I had planned to be happy, cheery race support for Aaron and spend the day with his parents, who live 1/2 a block from the MCM course in Arlington. But given that Selena and I weren’t running MountainBack together (Selena had to back out when the race was moved this year from Sat to Sun) and I wasn’t running any other races this fall, I decided to join in.
But the day before the race the course got hit with 6-8″ of snow and had to be canceled because the school buses couldn’t navigate the mountain roads in the snow (FOTM is a point-to-point). So it was delayed one week and I got to watch AarBear run his Marine Corps Marathon AND make him come run FOTM with Selena and myself. Double score!
The plan was to drive Selena’s 3 boys and dog to her parents’ farm outside Winchester, dispose of them, have some homecooked dinner, and then have a peaceful pre-race night sleep at America’s Best Value Inn in Hancock, MD. So we all piled into Selena’s minivan: Selena, Aaron, 3 hyper boys, a Belgian Malinois with bad breath, and myself.
The Smart family homestead was a dream home, situated ~20 southeast of Winchester near the Shenandoah River and Appalachian Trail, 80 acres of rolling farmland with cattle, horses, and three buildings constructed by Mr. Smart himself: the main house, the garage (with apartment above), and a barn that was so sparkling I’m convinced Andrish would try to secure himself a stall of his own if he could. I, of course, was obsessed with the horses. Aaron and I have an open invitation to return some day to stay in the apartment over the garage and ride horses and hang out. We will be taking the Smarts up on that offer.
We had a big meal of chicken & dumplings (we found some mac ‘n’ cheese in the cupboard for Aaron) and made our way to America’s Best Value Inn, which was not America’s Best Quality Inn. We had a choice: we could get woken up by the heater when it kicked into gear every 20 minutes or so. Or we could turn the heater off and freeze. We opted for the latter, piling all the blankets on from the second bed (apparently Selena did the same). After a sporadic sleep the kicker was when our 5am wakeup call came at 4am because they neglected to account for the end of Daylight’s Savings time. For breakfast we introduced Selena to the glory of Sheetz, providing edible foods and beverages in a town that otherwise had…..nothing.
The race was great fun, a beautiful course, surprisingly technical, a good mix of terrains, friendly and low-key. Nothing beats a crisp fall day with blue sky and sun. I had a lot of concerns coming into the race: (1) my hamstring was still griping about that poor decision to stand on the sidelines at Marine Corps, freeze to the bone, and then jump in with Aaron at 6-minute pace for a few miles (hence my wearing the butt-ugly spandex); (2) I had taken a bad spill at WUS that week and had badly bruised up my right knee and hip and it still was bothering me; (3) and of course my plantar fasciitis was still acting up that had plagued me since Cascade Crest. Fortunately, none of concerns 1-3 was much of a problem on race day. Instead, my gastrointestinal system flared up.
I’m not going to go into detail on my gastrointestinal adventures. As I’ve said many a time before, this is an area I’m going to have to figure out before I can become an ultra runner. I can get away with it for the shorter races you don’t have to eat during but 5+ hours does me in. But it says a heckuva lot about this race how much I enjoyed it despite the stomach ails. It was a really fun course, never a dull moment. Aaron almost fell off a cliff into the creek; the guy running behind me fell every 10 minutes or so; Selena was not so into the technicality of the trail; I smashed my foot up and my leg looks like an army of rabid cats got to it. Good times!
I can’t resist including this photo. I’m not sure what I’m doing at this moment, but I’ve discovered that Aaron is the most photogenic runner and I am the least:
Fall WUS Beer Mile Classic round up
Shadowy sidewalks, marked under alien street lamps and deciduous tree color delivered WUS to the track. The odd sensation of concrete, not dirt, under feet foretold of things different. It was yet 7:15pm, though as dark outside as the deepest cave. The temperature, crispy. Here again, on routine October visitation, our friendly acquaintance, fall, gracing our presence for the evening’s affair. The Beer Mile Classic: event number four on the 2011 Don’t-Hurt-Yourself tour WUS series of races.
In action, the usual suspects: Bobby-not-to-be-confused-with-Bobby-Pin-Gill. Aaron-huge-Schwartz-Schwartzbard. Martha-break-yo’self-Nelson. Sean-where’s-the-pizza?-Andrish. Jon-what-cha-ma-call-it-LoeWUS-Deitch. Neal-coverboy-Gorman. Ryon-Straight-out-of-Africa-beard-Lane. Doug-gee-whiz-Sullivan. Brian-Hip-ie -Greeley. Anna-Little-Leprechaun-Griffis. Gaby-Head-Gorman. Jeff-Beer-Me-Reed. And, finally: Mackenzie-its-Mack-Tonight-Tepel.
Crimson was on full display as runners toed the line, each cupping their beverage of choice. A piercing, unmistakably echoy sound- “sscchhhkkkhhheeerrraaahhh…”- signaled the race start. Instantly, slurps and burps sequenced in harmonic unison. Coverboy and Bobby-Pin sprang from the gate. J-Lo gave chase. Others seemed to more enjoy their beverage, savoring the sweet taste of Milwaukee. Gulping sounds eventually quieted, empties filled the voiding wake of runners dust. For the first time in a really long time, Aaron was all by himself. Standing lonesome on the track; clipboard in hand; stop watch dictating seconds passed. The field had spread out quickly.
Most of the WUS field ran their own race. A wise decision this would prove to be as nary chunks were blown over the track. Coverboy and Bobby-Pin on the other hand, immersed in a fiery duel, set about re-writing WUS race coda on a night sea of change. An epic race developed through the darkness.
Here are a few snippets recorded in the immediate post race furry:
“Fuck, that hurt! Owwww…” said Neal, as he crashed to the dewy grass seconds after winning his first Beer Mile Classic. “Halfway through the second loop I almost shit my pants.”
Bobby-Pin, with hand still in cupped position, looked stunned. The tireless efforts over prior months to pump his chest so that it would cross the tape first, before Coverboy’s, so that he might win the race, not Coveryboy, had forced a crushing reality check. In the final race seconds, culminating in a come-from-behind Coverboy-kick, Bobby-Pin was un-seated as WUS Beer Mile Classic champion. “Dude, my buzz is kicking in,” Bobby-Pin reportedly quibbed.
Coverboy, barely able to crawl from the grass, still in possible turtle-ass-mental-self-examination-mode, began to smile as the reality of a win washed over. Martha, Aaron, and soon J-Lo- 2nd place loser- came to the aid of Coverboy, and his ass, and to congratulate a job well done.
“Best Beer Mile finish ever,” cheered Martha.
“Any beer left over?” replied Coverboy.
FINAL RACE RESULTS (note: track is 500 meters!):
Neal – 7:10
Bobby – 7:11
JLD – 9:14
Ryon – 9:32
Brian – 9:36
Anna – 11:09
Jeff – 11:14
Sean – 11:43
Doug – 17:54
Mackenzie – Gun time: 39:34, Chip time: 23:17
Martha (2 beer category): PONIES
Tragedy Strikes the MountainBack
Tussey MountainBack 50-mile relay
State College, PA
Sunday October 23, 2011
I was impossibly nice to the cashier at Trader Joes in Bethesda last night. I gave my mom an unusually long hug last night after our Monday night Old Lady Aerobics + dinner tradition. I spent all morning cleaning my apartment, scrubbing parts of my toilet and under furniture that have never been cleaned since I moved in, because I knew sitting at a computer and trying to do phylogenetic analysis simply wouldn’t work today. I’ve had a somewhat delayed reaction to Ed’s tragic death on Leg 8 of the Tussey MountainBack 50-mile relay. Maybe it’s because our van was ahead of the event and really didn’t grasp the severity of the situation until Marty broke the news just as I was saying my last goodbyes before driving back to DC. So I never had a chance to share my grief with other NVRC runners, departing for DC before the sadness really set in. For the few minutes between learning the news from Marty and departing I was caught in a bizarre state of shock combined with lingering post-race high (I must confess, with a tinge of guilt, that our team had a great time, as we were largely spared from the terrible shadows of the day until the very end when we were departing).
I may have to return to State College for the memorial run in two weeks. I can’t think of any way to cope with the sadness other than to be with my Nittany Valley Running Club (NVRC) family as we collectively grieve along the trail of Ed’s last steps.
It may seem inappropriate to speak of this year’s MountainBack experience in light of Ed’s tragedy, given that up until the very end my experience was so overwhelmingly positive, while it was so traumatic for others. But MountainBack is something sacred for me, and even this darkest cloud does not diminish its standing as the most exceptional race there is — the only race where when my friend Tany asked me to be a bridesmaid in the wedding she held two weeks ago, I told her (to a bit of her chagrin) that I had to check my calendar first to make sure it didn’t conflict with Tussey (I’m sorry, MtBk comes first!). It meant so much to be able to give Aaron a taste of why this little relay is so special.
Maybe next year I’ll write more details about what Tussey MountainBack is all about — how the Draft Relay Challenge (DCR) works with its captains and bios and picks and such. How our dear Commish John Sheakoski thwarts my plans every year to bend the rules so that I can have the people I want on my team (poor Aaron had to chug up Legs 4 and 10 with me since John deemed him too fast to replace Selena). Or to explain why the race is the greatest running party in the world, a simultaneous celebration of gut-busting effort and the social bonds that seem to naturally germinate within and among the teams as the race goes on.
For now you’re just going to have to take my word that there is no running group as tight-knit as the NVRC, no relay scheme as ingenious as the DCR, and no race that so captures the spirit of running as the Tussey MountainBack. Ed’s tragedy — and the way our group has responded to it — has only intensified these convictions.
WUS goes to YUTC – Sept 17, 2011
