Yesterday I helped the CSA put in its potato crop for the year. Potato planting is surprisingly easy. The farmer has already furrowed the field with his tractor, which takes care of by far the hottest and heaviest of the four jobs. The other three consist, in order, of: (1) chopping seed potatoes into about golf-ball sized chunks; (2) dropping the potatoes into the furrows; (3) hoeing over the furrows so the potatoes sit in about 2 inches of dirt. You couldn't have asked for a nicer day to do farm work: blue skies and temps in the 60s, new green on all the trees and robins caroling in the bushes. I'd figured to spend about 2 hours there, but somehow double that time drifted by before I knew it. Something about farm-work just puts you in the zone. Potato, flick, potato, flick, potato, flick, row after row after row....; after a while the action becomes unconscious and higher brain functions largely unnecessary. After the fact, I'm totally at a loss to identify what I was thinking about; I just don't remember ever being bored.
That aside had almost nothing to do with running, except that my back was a little sore this morning, prior to the Foxtrot. It worked itself out by the time I started racing. All right then, enough about potatoes! How did the race go?
What a fantastic day for a trail run! Cool and cloudy, not raining, but overcast in the particular way the sky has when it is earnestly considering it. The woods were an emerald dream of verdurous spring-time growth, rich dark mud, and flowing streams. We toed the line at 9am and got to it.
Right from the siren two guys jumped out ahead and I tucked in behind them. It was faintly possible they were running the 3 mile, but I thought it unlikely: you can usually tell a 5k from a 10mile runner by their arm carriage--besides which,the hard-core guys almost always do the longer distance at this race.
I love the course layout for this race, but I particularly love the first couple miles as they are fairly flat, your legs are fresh, and you can really fly, spinning over all the obstacles, your feet magically finding the stable ground between the rocks and roots that vein the trail. The trees blur by, and you take each downhill like a waterfall, inexorable, flowing always into the easiest path.
I don't run this race with a garmin. If I did, I would look at it and think I should be running slower. That might well be true--but I can't bring myself to do it. Flying through those early miles is just too much fun.
Around mile 2 I started losing contact with the lead pair. All my muscles were feeling strong, but my breath was coming fast, and I knew I had to hold onto it.
In 2008 (the last time I did the 10 miler), I somehow got confused during the race and thought the limed mile marker reading "5" actually read "6". As you can imagine, it was a bit of a psychological blow when I hit mile 6 again -- near the top of long up-hill. I was determined to have a better back half of the race today.
I took some water from the 'stop at mile 5 and I totally nailed it, except I got some on my glasses. I think my water station technique has improved.
Mile 6 and 7 are tough in this race. There's a couple long uphills to contend with, then the easy even Green Trail--which nonetheless throws some up at you--and then a brief section of the skyline trail, which absolutely sucks. I knew it was coming this time and was bracing myself for it. Perhaps too much so--in the middle of one of those long climbs, an HFC guy caught me! I willed for some faster turnover, but my legs were giving what they were giving. I caught up a little on the next down-hill, but not enough. Inexorably, he started to gap me.
I reached the mile 7 mark with great relief; The last 3 miles of the race are mostly pretty easy, and I still felt strong, my attitude focused on racing, not merely surviving. I flowed into the next downhill, feet finding the way.
Total solitude for the next three miles. I kept hearing what I thought were footfalls, but any time I hit a switchback turn (of which there are many), I couldn't see anyone behind me. At mile 9 I rejoined the green trail and picked up the pace. What a joy to stretch your legs after all the single-track where self-preservation forces you to be careful.
No one near me at the finish. A big kick over the footbridge, and I was done.
Results: 4th OA (AG ? ), time of 66? minutes
I didn't hang around for the awards so I don't know exactly how I did. Although I wasn't foolhardy enough to attempt double-headering like last year, I still wanted to catch the JJRamble....
One observation: holy crap what a difference it makes on the downhills to land more on your forefoot. I experienced a big improvement in downhill speed since the Great Footstrike Conversion of '09. Heel-striking downhill on trail is scary; you take fewer strides, so each stride has that much more weight behind it. And if the plant is bad, you're already totally committed, so there's nothing you can do. Maybe you roll your ankle, maybe you just jam it awkwardly. It tends to make you cautious in a way I hadn't appreciated.
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