Boston 2009 pics

Boston was a brutal and beautiful race. Everything it is hyped to be and more.

2009 Chattanooga Stage Race

The 2009 Rock Creek Chattanooga Mtn. Stage Race

3 Mountains – 60 Miles – 3 Days

STAGE ONE

A trail has a mind, it has the mind of those who created it… near civilization a trail will make very thoughtful turns, having a purpose, a feel, a sense that it is heading somewhere specific, but when a trail gets out, far away… the trail takes on a new mind… one that meanders, explores, twists and turns seemingly in mindless ways or to far off landmarks or waterfalls, but there is a definite feel to both- as if it is speaking to you as you run it, sometimes it is merciless and sometimes it is wondrous.

The dusty dirt road descended to a clearing in the tall trees. Tents and flags stood in the basin. The sun was already warming the early morning air. Racers gathered as one of the organizers brought a small red bullhorn to his mouth and began calling the rest of us, still digging through our cars, to the starting line. It was day one on Lookout Mountain of the 2009 Rock Creek Stage Race in Chattanooga TN, Three mountains - Sixty miles - Three days.

The race began after instructions and admonitions about hydration- it was going to get hot, very hot. The assembly of over 100 runners lurched forward, like one large animal, we were off. The start of the course was wide, dry, packed earth and loose rocks. The trail then dove into a thick, green forest. I soon watched the lead pack descend and disappear over a ridge, while the chase pack did not follow but chose a different way. The leaders had taken a wrong turn and in an instant, I was running with, who I was pretty sure were runners 3 and 4. I ran faster and with a greater sense of purpose.

The heat was coming; I made sure to drink my entire bottle of fluid between the aid stations, each about 5 miles apart. The temperature was expected to climb to nearly 100 degrees in town. I ran with two other runners. We traded running in the lead. Then one runner pulled ahead after the second aid station, and he was gone. I ran behind a runner who had been strong up until this point. He started fooling with his water bottle and his pace decreased. I pulled up beside him and looked over. Water was dripping off his hands. His expression was worried and fretful.

I asked, “You OK?” He shook his head; “I’ve only got about an inch of water.” I asked, “Didn’t you fill up back there?” He said, “Yeah, but I must not have put the top on good. I’ll have to take it slow.” We had just passed the first water stop at just over 5 miles in. We were miles from the next refill and now our bodies were totally covered in sweat. I urged him to stay with me and offered to share my bottle with him. Soon he faded behind, and I was running alone, for a time.

As we continued farther into the woods, the trail narrowed and became less distinct. A trail has a mind, it has the mind of those who created it… near civilization a trail will make very thoughtful turns, having a purpose, a feel, a sense that it is heading somewhere specific, but when a trail gets out, far away… the trail takes on a new mind… one that meanders, explores, twists and turns seemingly in mindless ways or to far off landmarks or waterfalls, but there is a definite feel to both- as if it is speaking to you as you run it, sometimes it is merciless and sometimes it is wondrous.

The day got hotter, the trail got stranger and the miles kept coming.

The majority of the lead pack - passed me as they doubled back and they were able to catch most of the field.

At mile 17, I came to a road crossing where a guy took my picture. I was feeling good- the sugary energy cubes I had eaten at 15 were kicking in. I grinned awkwardly and thought… “I’ve got this.”

Not long after, I started to feel a stinging twinge in my right calf muscle. I had been favoring that foot to keep from getting a blister. My socks were soaked through; they made a sloshing noise from the sweat. I kept fighting off little wrinkles by wiggling my toes. I figured I had compromised my running form, so I straightened up, and concentrated on my steps.

The trail jutted up, time and time again. I poured sweat and struggled through bouts of breathlessness and a racing heart rate. My pulse thumped in my ears and the heat of the day was giving chase. Even in the cool looking shade, where light outlined the leaves of the overhanging trees, there was a heavy heat that I drew into my lungs with each breath.

I played with my right sock with my toes as I tromped through the woods. My shoes kept sloshing in rhythm from the sweat that continued to accumulate in them - sloch-sloch-sloch. Wrinkles were still forming, causing me to adjust my stride. I tried to work them out. I felt a twinge in my right calf again. It sent a shot of pain up my leg. I tried to lengthen out my steps and give my legs a bit of a stretch in the process. The temperature felt like it had climbed into the 90’s and the humidity level was high and steamy.

Into the 17^th mile I strode, now my left calf began the same grabbing sensation. I recalled being back in my hotel sitting in the cool silence of the empty breakfast area… eating my bagel… my bagel without a banana. I never missed having a banana before a long run… until now. My legs tightened and loosened as I pressed along becoming ever more sensitive to elevation changes eventually reducing me to walking the steeper hills. The last mile or two was the same route we had come out from the start. We had climbed a nasty series of switchbacks where the footing was a mixture of rich, loose black soil, rocks and roots. I now had to descend that same steep grade. As I plunged down the single track bracing myself for the first coiling turn, both legs seized in mid-air as I hurled downward and out of control. I crashed between two gnarly tree limbs on my tailbone, pain shooting through my locked legs. I was not lucky enough to be alone- as two runners ambled past me as I slid and tried to keep moving. The sweat and dirt had mixed to create a slippery mud on my hands as I grabbed for trees and roots trying to swing down from hold to hold. I told myself, “Just keep moving,” over and over again.

I thought I had much further to go… once I reached the bottom of the incline it was no more than a half-mile until the tents of the starting line appeared. I, delirious and always leery of false hope, considered that I had an out and back run to do until I crossed the finish line, but that was not the case. I crossed the finish line and was told there were cold towels in the red cooler. I managed only a raspy mumble… “Where’s the water?” “Huh? Oh, over there I think.” Someone pointed, as I teetered to the jugs and cups and food. I shoved part of a banana into my mouth and gulped cup after cup of cool water. There was a clear, cold creek where some of the runners were sitting and talking. I got in the fresh stream. The other runners talked and joked with each other, and some of their wives were standing on the bank. My calves cramped painfully. I thrashed around like a carp in the shallows, throwing my water bottle to the edge of the creek, crawling out on the sand. I walked, straight legged over to the medical tent.

I spent the next 20 minutes with physical therapist, Dee who worked diligently to ease my cramps. It wasn’t until she realized that it was not just a potassium shortage but also a sodium and electrolite imbalance that the waves of cramps lessened. They brought another runner in who was cramping as well. She had it in her legs and toes and was having the same reaction to the pain, uncontrollable flailing of the body. We laughed at each other between fits. While most everyone else was relaxing and socializing, I was face down on a table occasionally breaking into spastic leg convulsions. But the truth is, no one thought much of it, because anyone who does much of this type of running has a day like this… on a rare occasion. Dee brought me a saltshaker and I poured it into my wet, pink palm and pressed it to my tongue. Soon I was able to walk again. What a great day.

On the trail:

I thought of how we humans have such a limited vantage point. We see the past through a mixture of memories and perceptions and the present with our biases and personal notions. But we see none of the future. Yet God sees all these things clearly.

by

Jadyn M. Stevens

6/26/09