The race was at Bear Mountain State Park, which is about 50 miles up the Hudson River from NYC. The park was massive, replete with heavily-wooded, mountainous ridges and a handful of small lakes and ponds. The weather was perfect too, sunny and in the low 50s at the 7 AM start. North Face also did a really good job of organizing and operating the event (this was just one of a series of 6 endurance challenges they do across the country each year). Even though there were maybe only ~700 people running all the races on Saturday (Marathon, 50k & 50m), they had a big, elaborate start/finish village with heat lamps, tents, food, and seating areas. Really just a well-run operation.
The course overall spent almost three-fourths of its length going up or down, and probably two-thirds on loose, sharp boulders in dry riverbeds. Perfect quad-bursting and ankle twisting-conditions. To set the scene, I'll just throw together a bunch of adjectives, ad-verbs, and descriptive clauses that I feel are appropriate and effective:
Rocky, climbing, mean, ankle-twisting, thorny, unsympathetic, deceiving, sharp, repetitive but not monotonous, falling, loose, narrow, dark, sunny, sloppy and muddy, crowded and sparse, isolating, and temperamental.
The First 10 Miles
Once the race started, about 250 of us set off. I tried to stay close to the back of the pack early to avoid the trap of getting caught up in the fast pace at the front. The first half mile was relatively benign, just some flat, smooth, double-wide trail, and I fell into the pace of the group at around 10 min/mile. After that, the fun started with the first prolonged up, then steep, hazardous down; each segment lasting about maybe a quarter to a half mile with one or two hundred feet in elevation change. That pattern pretty much repeated over and over for the first 10 miles, which took me about 1:50 to finish. Mentally, I was just trying to get through it with as little damage and fatigue as possible.
I also learned a lot very quickly in this early segment. Given my substantial inexperience in trail running, trail racing, and unfamiliarity with the course, my strategy coming in was very primitive and ill-informed. I basically had the expectation of power-hiking the uphills, and making up my ground on the downs and flats; and if I did that, then I should finish in about five hours. However, it was also a big risk that my strategy would get discarded on the trail like a used Gu-packet, as these strategies often are in the midst of competition. However, I stuck to it, which was easy to do since everyone else in the race seemed to be employing the same plan of attack. This lead me to my second key lesson about trail racing: play the course 'to par'. Like in golf I just wanted to cover each segment with the same efficiency as the average person. This made me feel a lot better about taking 10 minutes to get through a half mile in some nasty parts - I just reminded myself that I wasn't actually losing any ground to the field.
The Second 10 miles
The next 10 miles were a mix of some more ups and downs, but with a very nice, soft, and un-rocky flat-stretch of about 2 miles around mile 15. While this felt good on my feet and in my climbing/descending muscle groups, it actually broke my concentration. I have never done too much trail running, but I really benefited from the necessary concentration the trail commands to ensure you don't trip on a root or step sideways on a rock. Staying focused on the the 5 to 10 feet ahead of me made for a great distraction to not realize how tired I was getting or how much longer I'd have to work to finish. Hitting that flat, easy stretch freed up enough of my mental faculties and let my mind start drifting and realizing I was still only half-way down after about three hours.
Also at about this time, I caught up with another runner (the field had become pretty stretched out at this point, such that I usually had about fifty to a hundred yardss in either direction to the next runner), a guy named Kris who I ended up spending most of the next 15 miles with. This was a huge help for the both of us, as we each had somebody to be directly accountable to, and also to compete with. I was thinking 'no way am I going to drop behind and let him get ahead of me', and I'm sure he was thinking the same. Turns out we actually had a lot in common, and he provided me with a ton of experience, as this was the fourth time he'd run this race.
I've also got to mention how fantastic the aid stations were. All were well stocked, and staffed with very helpful people. Every time I came in to one, somebody took my water bottle from me, asked me what I was drinking, and filled it. I had my bottle back in my hand in no more than 15 seconds, full of fresh, cold water. I usually grabbed a small banana, some pretzels, and half a PBJ sandwich; shoved it all in my mouth; and was back out on the trail in no more than 2 minutes. The people who volunteer at these stations are doing God's work.
The Last 10.6 Miles
After I had 20 miles behind me (and four hours on the trail), it became much easier to start thinking about the end and pushing myself through - my mindset shifted from conserving energy to expending whatever I had left. The sun was also getting higher in sky, which started lifting the temperature a little and increasing the strain. Miles 20 to 25 were relatively benign (relative being a very important adjective in this context, as they still required a ton of climbing and steep descending).
The last 6 miles had a bit of a strange set-up, as there was an aid station around mile 25, then another one just about 2.5 miles later. The reason for this was the section of trail between these two points was referred to simply as "Hell". This consisted mainly of climbing and descending on two ridges, each several hundred feet high, each equally steep. Imagine climbing halfway up and down the rockiest parts of your favorite mountain, minus all the flat, runnable segments, and without all the 'safety precautions' installed by the parks department; then doing it again; and all after running 25 miles of an otherwise very difficult trail. At times, the description of 'death march' seemed like an appropriate appellation for that stretch of trail. The last descent was so treacherous due to its grade, abundance of jagged rocks, and complete absence of solid footing that they had two medics waiting at the bottom. This was also when my partner for the last dozen or so miles, Kris, separated himself from me. His experience clearly paid dividends on the descents, as he was able to pick his footing on the loose, sharp rocks much faster and more efficiently than I cared to attempt, given I don't have a reckless abandon for breaking my neck or dying alone in the forest. His performance during this section could best be described as a 'controlled fall', while mine was a 'reluctant tip-toe'.
The last 6 miles had a bit of a strange set-up, as there was an aid station around mile 25, then another one just about 2.5 miles later. The reason for this was the section of trail between these two points was referred to simply as "Hell". This consisted mainly of climbing and descending on two ridges, each several hundred feet high, each equally steep. Imagine climbing halfway up and down the rockiest parts of your favorite mountain, minus all the flat, runnable segments, and without all the 'safety precautions' installed by the parks department; then doing it again; and all after running 25 miles of an otherwise very difficult trail. At times, the description of 'death march' seemed like an appropriate appellation for that stretch of trail. The last descent was so treacherous due to its grade, abundance of jagged rocks, and complete absence of solid footing that they had two medics waiting at the bottom. This was also when my partner for the last dozen or so miles, Kris, separated himself from me. His experience clearly paid dividends on the descents, as he was able to pick his footing on the loose, sharp rocks much faster and more efficiently than I cared to attempt, given I don't have a reckless abandon for breaking my neck or dying alone in the forest. His performance during this section could best be described as a 'controlled fall', while mine was a 'reluctant tip-toe'.
Anyways, I got through that and to the next aid station, which was the beginning of the end. All that was left was a three mile 'victory lap', which seemed like a chip shot at that point. I felt so strong at this late stage, that I began worrying that maybe I hadn't gone out as hard as I could have. Regardless, I had a strong finish (except for the one root that I finally tripped on and completely crashed after about a dozen close calls earlier in the race), and crossed the finish line actually feeling a little fresh - six hours and twenty-eight minutes after I started.
All-in-all, it was a fantastic morning. The weather was perfect, the trail really kept me in a focused state, and I was fortunate that my body was just ready and energetic on that day.
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