Author: martha

VHTRC Women’s Half Marathon

Bull Run Regional Park, Manassas, VA

September 14, 2013

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.

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).

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.

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?).

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.

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 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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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!

 

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.

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.

 

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’.

 

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.

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.

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.

 

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.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

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

‘Aaron, you’re not going to become a go-getter now, are you?’

We had at long last identified the cause of Aaron’s chronic suffering and fatigue, tracing it to an ill-fated tick bite he suspects he got during MMT in the spring of 2010. And following an initial bout of elation I was struck with trepidation. What if the mellow, sleepy Aaron I’d come to adore was only a Lyme-depressed manifestation of him?? What if the post-doxycycline Aaron would be less inclined towards naps and CSI marathons and instead favor frenetic activity? He had been a triathlete, after all! For goodness sake, what if the healthy version of Aaron would turn out to be….ambitious?

Aaron’s condition had flared after running Highland Sky, when he had a week of 102 degree fevers, teeth-chattering chills, and extreme fatigue. The experience triggered an idea that his many years of malaise might have been related to a pathogen, rather than the Achilles problem he had chalked it up to. The first two doctors were not impressed that slipping to a mere 2:50 marathon time could possibly represent a medical problem, and would not satisfy our request for a Lyme disease test. Finally, I snuck Aaron in to see my primary care physician, Dr Hunter, took his case seriously and ordered a battery of tests, including for all tick-borne illnesses.

We’re ready for a long road to recovery, but are elated to finally be on it. It’s amazing how many fellow trail runners know someone who has had Lyme disease or have experienced it themselves. As an infectious disease epidemiologist, it’s been fascinating to learn about the ecology and spread of Lyme — and troubling to read about the market failure 15 years ago of a vaccine with fairly good effectiveness against Lyme disease, but which was pulled after media hyping of false links to adverse events. Don’t get me started on the media and vaccines.

And no, Aaron promises, he won’t turn into a go-getter. But he might give me a taste of my own medicine on a long run.

Catherine’s Fat Ass 50k

Massanuttan Mtns, VA

July 20, 2013

Nothing says summer like frozen custard, watermelon, and the purple trail.

I liked driving to Catherine’s Fat Ass with Brian S. Sure, he made us arrive a full hour before the run started, but this was more than redeemed by stopping at Sheetz twice and even taking me and Sean to Pack’s.

For some reason this year’s Catherine’s course was substantially altered to an out and back (I’m not sure because I was napping in Brian’s car for most of the pre-run period). Sean was very cranky about this, probably because there wouldn’t be enough rocks. So I suggested we just do the old route and as long as we got aid a couple times it would be fine. Brian, Sean, and I recruited Keith, Neal, Matt B, and newbie John A. as fellow renegades to go the old route.

I liked the run. It was certainly hot in the sun, but not terribly oppressive. I was very disappointed to not see a bear again after all the reported sightings at Jeremy’s Run a few weeks ago, but that was more than made up for by the good company. Sean, Neal, John, and I formed a pack for the first ten miles and then after Sean and Brian went short Matt, Neal, John and I ran together to the finish. It was great to see Neal out there after his long bout with cytomegalovirus this spring. And now that Sean has moved to Leesburg I hardly get to see him at all, so it was great to run with him too. And it was John A.’s first ultra experience — quite an intro, what with the heat, the hornet’s nest (we all got stung, including John in a place too close for comfort), the limited aid, and the purple trail. But John was very game and a cheerful new addition. He also wrote a much more detailed blog about our jaunt here.

When we pulled into the finish the parking lot was abuzz with people, burgers, and watermelon. Despite opting for the 20-mile version, Brian and Sean had gamely waited for me. I had run out of water with a couple miles to go, so the watermelon (seedless AND organic) was particularly refreshing. There were a lot of people I wanted to catch up with more, but I had already pulled two ticks off me just sitting there in the grassy lot (which I’m particularly paranoid about right now because we suspect Aaron’s chronic fatigue is due to lyme disease) and Sean and Brian were eager to get to the Pack’s frozen custard stand we’d spotted — which, after five and a half hours in the heat, sounded like a pretty darn good idea.