Saturday, August 2, 2014

Grafton Loop Trail Overnight

I've been up in Maine, hiking and swimming and only running intermittently. I had a goal to explore some new mountains this trip, and settled on Grafton Notch in the Mahoosucs. Despite only being an hour from our summer home, we never went here on family hiking outings, heading instead for slightly bigger and slightly closer peaks. It's too bad because Grafton is beautiful! I had quite a wonderful adventure doing a solo overnight on the Grafton Loop Trail, which climbs over three and a half peaks on the East side of the notch, then crosses ME 26 (following a section of the AT), and goes over another 2.5 on a southerly trajectory that leaves you a short half-mile's walk back along the road to your car.

Here's how it went, in pictures.

I started from the trail-head around 6:50. It was still early when I got to the first overlook on the flank of Puzzle Mt, with dramatic clouds (remnants from yesterday's heavy rains) still hanging low in the notch.

The summit of Puzzle Mt was completely locked in cloud. I'm sure it would have had lovely views. The summit was slightly confusing, with two cairns seemingly heading in different directions, but no trail sign. I thought one way might be the Woodsum Spur Trail leading back down Puzzle Mt, but I found that meeting up with the trail further on. Anyway, it was useful to take a compass bearing to ensure I left the summit heading north.

The trail down Puzzle Mt. was wet from rain, and I soon came to the first of many gushing stream crossings.

As I approached Long Mt. I moved through an old timber cut, filled with verdant undergrowth and some late raspberries.

Long Mt's summit is forested and not interesting (distinguished only by a sign along a fairly flat ridge trail), but it did present this gorgeous view via a short spur trail.

Coming down from Long Mt. I got lost for pretty much the only time on the whole route (the way is excellently blazed, with only a few exceptions). Where the trail makes a hard left turn off an old timber road, I somehow walked right past a sign and a makeshift barrier of birch branches into this meadow. There was just enough of a treadway through the undergrowth to make me think I was still going somewhere. Lining the way were hordes of delicious raspberries, to which I helped myself. After exploring down past this meadow in a couple different directions I eventually realized my mistake.

In the valley between Long Mt and Baldpate, the trail parallels a stream (Wight Brook, I think) for the better part of a mile. It would be hard to pick just one scene of sylvan beauty that was particularly memorable over the course of the hike, but the laughing companionship of this stream as it rushed white and frothing down from the high peaks of the notch's East wall was particularly magical. I lunched at the Knoll Campsite turnoff, overlooking the stream, and was very happy.

Another shot of Wight Brook.

By the time I reached the main ascent of East Baldpate, I was feeling both drowsy and physically tired (having only got 4.5 hours of sleep in my eagerness to make an early start). I puffed my way up the flank of the mountain, determined not to rest until I got to the summit. I had planned my route with a "fast and light" mentality, but when putting my pack together I failed to deliver on the "light" part. Some rookie mistakes that I remember doing better on my last overnight, plus the fact that overnight temperatures in the 40s had encouraged me to bring my sleeping bag (which is huge and heavy, and has "Base Camp" stitched into the outer lining).

Anyway, I needed to shake off my doze for a few steep bits, such as the Via Ferrata stretch above. But for the most part there were no views to excite or inspire on the way up Baldpate from the East. Given the name I felt a wee bit cheated...

until I got to the summit! Amazing views to the N, S, and W. In the distance you can see a line of windmills turning in the breeze. I laid down and snoozed for a quarter hour in the sun, trying to replenish my energy reserves.

This whole time, about 17 miles worth of hiking, I had seen exactly two groups, a troop of boys way out in the forest between Long Mt and Puzzle Mt, and another female hiking troop just leaving the Baldpate summit as I arrived. Once on Baldpate however, the situation changed, as there were many people hiking this stretch of the AT.

Looking toward West Baldpate.

Hikers can be seen in the distance, navigating the trail up to W. Baldpate. I caught this group later on my way down to the Notch.

A look back up-trail on the dramatic, ledgy descent down from East Baldpate.

And a look down-slope. Baldpate lives up to its name after all.

In a dell between East and West Baldpate I replenished my water for the first time, filling up from a little stream running through a hemlock grove. The water was cold and not murky with particulates, but a slightly funny burnt orange color (from the tannins in the hemlocks, I assume). At around 3400 feet it was "high water" --by Maine standards anyway--but I treated it anyway with my a new electronic gadget (steripen).

Above is the beautiful scramble up West Baldpate.

I was pretty fagged out at this point and stopped taking pictures. I even bypassed the Table Rock overlook, which is supposed to be beautiful. The next shot is of ME 26 in the north end of Grafton Notch, as I finally made it down off Baldpate.

I hiked a quarter mile up the other side of the notch, stopping as the way became steep and moving off trail to find a bivouac site. Camping is not allowed in Grafton Notch State Park (sorry!) I felt what I was doing--essentially pulling up a tree--was so low impact that it would be difficult to complain about it, though.

Getting my contacts out, and then back in the next morning, was quite a trick. I washed off my hands with sterilized water from my bottle, and then licked them clear of FOD. It wasn't perfect, but I managed it.

You can't really see from the bivouac site above, but I was perched on the edge of a sharp declivity that flanked the South side of the Eyebrow, which is a great cliff on the shoulder of Old Speck. I could just see it through the trees, looming above me as I settled in. A cascade spilled down the side closest to me, and I drifted off to sleep with its sound murmuring in my ears.

I slept pretty well, waking occasionally, but otherwise unmolested by wildlife or anything else--even mosquitoes were scarce in the cool evening. There's no real dawn under the dense forest canopy that rose above me, but I blinked awake early enough to see the tenebrous murk slowly lift, the cracks of light between the leaves brightening until the whole scene became morning.

I dragged myself out of bed around 6, moderately sore, my achilles (both of them!) hurting, but not badly enough to make me want to abort. After I stretched out, they felt better. The trail food I had brought--mainly GORP, PB&J sandwiches, and candy bars, had long since lost its appeal, but I made myself eat what seemed an adequate amount of calories, and then got my stuff together to head out.

I was heartened by the knowledge that I would get the main ascent of the day done early, up to the summit of Old Speck, one of the highest mountains in Maine. In addition, my mileage would only be around 17, down from 21 the previous day.

As I got started, I could see glimpses of the cascade that had serenaded my to sleep the previous night.

When I at last made it to the crest at the top of the Eyebrow, I could see the actual summit of Old Speck, still quite far away.

When I finally made it to the summit around 8:30 in the morning, I was treated to a beautiful sight: lakes of low clouds lapping the peaks in every direction.

Above is the viewing tower at the top of Old Speck. The ladder up is not for the afraid of heights, but the views in every direction are well worth it. Hats off to the people who soldered this thing together up here!

Descending from Old Speck, I stopped at the Bull Run campsite turnoff to replenish my water supplies. It was another mountain stream of rare beauty (which I totally failed to capture with my camera), but the water it provided was perfectly clear, sweet-tasting and icy cold--elixir that bouyed me up for the rest of the trip.

After a long walk through wild woodlands, I began to ascend Sunday River Whitecap. Above, a view back toward Old Speck.

...and down into the Notch.

The trail up to the summit was almost bizarrely well constructed, given the comparative rarity with which this mountain must get climbed. The peak can only be approached via the Grafton Loop Trail, with a long journey from either end to reach it. Moreover, I didn't see a living soul the entire time I was on the West section of the trail.

Still, I'm not going to complain about such handy climbing aids.

The approach up to the summit was bare of trees and crowded with blueberries. The views were stupendous (above, looking toward Mt. Washington), and the peak wild and very isolated-feeling, despite the meticulously constructed boardwalks put in by the AMC crews. I ended up feeling like this summit was my special treat for doing the loop trail, as there is virtually no other way to climb it except by thru-hiking the western section of the loop. If this mountain were closer to a trailhead it would be getting thousands of hikers every season!

Another view back from Sunday River Whitecap toward Old Speck.

In hiking the Loop, you will spend a lot of time off the ridges and peaks, moving through wild Maine forest. There were many scenes of great beauty, like the one above--more subtle and difficult to capture with a lens, but just as affecting in their way as the majestic views from higher elevations.

I saw virtually no wildlife--not even insects bothered me, particularly--but check out this dead bird!

I continued on from Sunday River Whitecap, entertaining myself with the time-honored hiking game of imagining all the delicious hot meals I would eat when back off the mountain. The way continued quite pretty, although the descent down into the Notch was strenuous. I miscalculated my position and came to expect to see ME 26 at any second, until I ran into the Bald Mt Campsite turnoff, informing me in no uncertain terms that I still had two miles to go! It was just as well, as I was better able to enjoy the final descent off Bald Mt (a largely insignificant prominence, with no views despite its name) which parallels another mountain stream as it rushes down to join the Bear River.

The homestretch takes you through private land and is bit confusing--the blue blazes of the Grafton Loop Trail cease, and you must be on the lookout for yellow plastic signs, not all of which are obvious coming from the CCW direction.

To get back to the road you cross this beautiful meadow.

And this awesome suspension bridge.


Tuesday, July 8, 2014


Started the intervals @ 6am, but it was already pretty warm. Done in trainers. Wanted 75s.

10x 400 in

with 200 jog recovery. I was hurting--feeling the lack of quality over the last few weeks while I waited for my ankle to feel better. On the bright side, I'm light years ahead of where I was this time last year.

Monday, July 7, 2014

4 on the 4th in Bridgton, ME

Back to racing! Not much to say about this one--felt good to be on the line again. I had some pain in my left achilles that I was letting improve with light mileage--but what really ended up helping it was a 15 mile hike in the White Mountains the day after the race (not to a mention a very therapeutic soak in a very cold stream afterwards). I hiked up Baldface as far as the top of the ledges, but the wind was so powerful I had to turn back (a westerly from the direction of Mt. Washington--can only imagine what it was like up on the presidentials' ridgeline). On the way back down I stopped by Chandler Gorge--heavy rain from Hurricane Arthur had it going like a mill-race! Quite a sight. 

As a consolation, I hiked deeper into Evan's Notch and went up the blueberry/speckled mountain ridgeline, which was in the wind-shadow of the westerly ridge defining the notch, and thus hikable above tree-line. Tons and tons of green blueberries--I was just a bit too early for them, alas. 

Anyway, my officially measured time for the race was 23:42, for 13th overall (I clocked 23:40 for myself, not sure of the discrepancy). 

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Christopher's Run

I took most of last week off because my ankle was bothering me a bit. However, it felt fine on Sunday after an easy run, so I want ahead and did the 5K on my schedule. The rest had put some pop in my legs, and I was feeling just the right amount of pissed off (on that scale that runs from middle-distance ("howling berserker"), to ultramarathon ("contemplation of perfect peace and one-ness of the universe"). 

The guy I parked next to told me I was going to win, which I discouraged him from placing any money on, as most of the HFC low sticks were there to represent. When the gun went off I went out after the lead pack, because in my head at least I am a front-runner. The hot pace pulled me along to a quick start, and I settled into 4th. 

Round the mid-way point, two of my HFC teammates caught up to me, and we ran hard for a ways together. Eventually AJ gapped us, and Chris and I ran more or less shoulder to shoulder until the last 400m or so, where he slipped ahead. 

Finished in 6th (5th/HFC) in 16:48. 

Here's a picture I liked taken right before the finish (Chris is just out of the frame ahead of me):

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Great Bear 5K

Finish time 17:13, place 3rd. Splits were 5:12 @ mile 1, 10:40 @ mile 2. 

The leader went out like a rocket and won in 14:45--I looked him up afterwards, and he's a Kenyan with a 13:42 5K PR. Needless to say it was cool just to be in the same race as him (he shook my hand after and told me "good job"!)  So, I was mainly racing against #2. I kept pretty close and never really lost contact with him, but somehow couldn't be bothered to close enough to make it a tight race. 

I'm a little disappointed with how I did--I didn't hit my time goal of breaking 17, and didn't really feel like I left it all out on the course. On the bright side my ankle, which had been bothering me a bit over the last week, felt totally fine during the race. 

Ah well--I'm probably going to race again next weekend. Onward and upward...

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

13x400m intervals

13 x 400m intervals, with 200m jog recovery, in 75,9,7,7,7,6,6,5,7,6,7,6,4. Done in trainers. Conditions were ideal; left my house by 5:35 and was starting my intervals by 5:57--it was cool and clear, with no wind, a perfect spring morning.

This was faster than goal 5K race place (5K RP++, I guess). I will do one more track workout before the Great Bear, probably 9x600, trying to run accurate 80-81 second 400m splits.

Friday, May 2, 2014

ladder intervals

Ladder Intervals @ 5K race pace, 1:20 / 400m, with 400m jog recovery.

200   0:36
400   1:18
600   1:56
800   2:38
1000 3:20
800   2:42 (slow)
600   1:59
400   1:18
200   0:38

Done in New Balance 980s, which are pretty chunky. My left ankle has been feeling a little finicky, but nothing new about that. It generally works itself out after a couple miles. Beautiful spring morning today.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

JJR Race Report

It was good to be back at the James Joyce Ramble today! This may be the road race I have the longest history with in the Boston area, dating back to when I lived in Dedham, and discovered, quite by chance, that a huge race was setting off not a quarter mile from my house. I believe my casual "run to work and back, 0-quality, rarely race" training plan propelled my to a forty-something-something finish back in 2005 or 6, or whenever it was.

I've tried various things leading up to this race. Two years ago I ran it off no sleep after taking a red-eye train back from Philadelphia, T'd back to my town and speed-walked the 2 miles to my house before piling into my car to the race. Then I went and set my 10K PR of 35:21.

Last year I made the JJR a target race, carefully prepared for it, got a full night's sleep, showed up early, and ran a high 36.

So...this year my morning preparation was to clean my bathroom, then bicycle the 8 miles over to Dedham. The morning activity actually left me feeling pretty good--awake and relaxed. I picked up my number and went and did a warmup with Brian from HFC. When queried about my goal I said "under 36", which seemed plausible even though I haven't been doing much quality lately.

JJR was once again the site of the USATF Master's 10K championship, who started 3 minutes ahead of the main crowd. This makes the event function sort of like a handicap race, with the advance field strung out in decreasing order of grayness. It also makes the general results look waaay better than normal, as we shall see...

I ran the first (downhill) mile in 5:35, having long-ago given up any hope of negative splitting the JJR. Great to see the HFC cheering section at the turn just past Dedham Center. I ran a 17:05 or so through the first 3 miles, feeling consistently strong.

Of course the trick in the JJR is the section of hills through mile 4. In particular, the challenge is to keep enough fuel in the tank so that you can floor it through the flat 5th mile. I didn't quite swing that trick, and started to fall off pace a bit, letting two guys and the lead woman separate.

I kept pulling hard through the 5th and 6th miles, though nobody was around me except a scattering of people in the master's race, finishing with not-much of a kick in 35:52.

I was 10th overall, but really 32nd when the masters runners are included.

Good race! I cooled down with the HFC guys, then hung around for a bit until my legs felt strong enough to bike home (at which point it was time for the traditional post-race nap/comatose stupor).

Sunday, February 16, 2014

OFTM race report

Last year I had pre-registered for the Old Fashioned 10 Miler, one of the staple winter races 'round these parts, only to have it cancelled at the last minute. I felt somewhat guiltily lucky, as I was not in good shape at the time, but I would have shown up anyway to "take my medicine", so to speak.

Cut to this year: off-season training is going well, and I'm in much better shape. Running conditions have been tough the last couple of weeks, and I'm excited to get in a fast run at the OFTM as a stepping-stone toward my half marathon at New Bedford. Only a pretty big weather system rolls in Saturday afternoon, and snow falls late into the night. Email Saturday morning claims the race is on, and there is nothing else by 9pm, when I last check email.

I get up moderately early this morning to shovel out my parking space and then return inside for a slice of bread with peanut-butter (the spartan breakfast I prefer prior to an 11am race), then got my kit together and headed out. I-95 is clear, but most other roads still have a layer of packed snow on them, and I'm already revising hopes of breaking 60 minutes.

The parking lot is almost totally empty, and I head in to the race HQ with trepidation, already beginning to think I should have checked email this morning. Yup; I find the volunteers in a huddle, as the RD relates that his exploratory drive of the 10 mile course showed it was infeasible to run, and they will be substituting a double-loop of the 5k course in its place. Mike Gilio gives me the heads-up that the race is in fact delayed 2 hours as well--d'oh!

I judiciously cadge a 1/4 bagel from the post-race supplies, and consider my options. I definitely want to get a long run in today, and the best thing to do seems to be to do a 7 mile "warm-up" ahead of the race, then run the 10k as a simulation of the 2nd half of a Half. Even with an hour run ahead of me, I've got some time to kill, so I walk the 1.5 miles around the block, then go back to my car for a bit.

My warm-up turns out to be quite nice--the back roads are all snow-covered and traction is poor, but there's virtually no traffic and all is calm and quiet. I focus on good form and try not to slip around too much.

I get back in time to join the pack of runners queuing up on the road. There must be 400-500 people here, the crazy fools. The two races are going off together, so there is quite a mill. Once I find my way to the front, I hear the RD explaining that the course is "actually closer to 5 miles". Good to know!

The gun goes off and immediately all thoughts of running this as a workout or some kind of simulation go careening out of my head, and I am racing. Conditions are TOUGH; I can feel snow spilling out from behind me as I try to claw the ground for purchase through the soles of my shoes (a pair of virtually treadless Nike Frees).

One guy immediately takes command of the race, and no it is not me. I'm third off the front, with another dude not far off my shoulder behind me. We hit the first turn and enjoy a brief respite of clear pavement--it is like putting on rocket boots.

Soon we are back on snow, and then we hit the 1st mile: 5:52, and it is SO NOT AEROBIC. I'm thinking currapp this is hard! A monster strength workout, for certain. We cut the turn onto Baker Street, and the guy in front of me is floating maybe 15 yards ahead. Did I hear him say he was running the 5K? I am pretty sure he said that. I focus on looking for lines of clear pavement and making the most of them (there aren't many).

Getting back onto Fox Hill, we cross our own trail, and the pack has torn the surface up, creating pockets of ankle-deep loose snow along with occasional pockets of opportunity. I can feel the #4 runner still not far behind me. We continue the loop, and soon the guy ahead of me is turning off to finish. The leader is not visible--he might also have been running the 5K, but since he was absolutely killing it I suspect he's running the longer distance.

Now we are picking up runners still on their first loop, and then fun begins. The road is filled with slightly-unstable formations of slow-moving runners and walkers, creating a moving maze to navigate. As the 4-mile mark comes in sight, I realize that my friend from the start is still tailing me. This does not make me unhappy--actually, it's awesome. How often do you get a good head-to-head race, no complacency allowed?

What follows has elements of both strategy and luck. I try to pick lines through the field that will be hard to follow, and lines that will let me monopolize pavement where it shows up. But the available routes are mostly determined by the shifting currents of the crowd. With Fox Hill quickly coming to a close, I see my opponent is still right on my shoulder. "To the finish!" he says. AYE, to the finish! We press on bobbing and weaving for all we're worth, and soon are kicking--if you can call it that--down toward the chute. I finish ahead by about 4 seconds.

It turns out his name is Russ, and we go do a cool-down, along with his neighbor. So ends the highly improvisational 19th running of the Old Fashioned 10 Miler. Props to Jim Morris and his volunteers for pulling off a successful race out of such implausible conditions. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm going to be well prepared for when the going gets tough in the last 5 miles of New Bedford--it won't be any worse than this race was.

Final Results: 5.(2?) miles in 31:52, for 2nd overall.

Total mileage today: 15.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Derry 16 Miler Race Report

I've been pretty quiet on the blog, which is too bad because actually plenty is going on. I closed out last year's season with the Manchester Road Race (terrible), the Gilio ho-ho-ho 5k (won it; competition light), and Charlotte's new years day 5k (17:40, well back from the winning time--I blame the holidays). I joined a new club, and payed USATF dues for the first time. I set a goal of running a fast half marathon at New Bedford in March, and I've started working toward it.

I also decided, late last Thursday, to do Derry again. My history with this race is: 2011; started the race with a "workout" mindset, ran conservatively through the hills at mile 11-12, and managed to survive the last 3 miles well enough to run a decent time; 2012; started the race with a racing mindset, felt great, ran hard, went through the half marathon in 84:53, and then suffered one of the three epic bonks of my running career (and the only one not heat-related); 2013, signed up, was in lousy shape, realized I needed to frantically prepare that weekend for an international trip, DNS.

Most people reading this will already be acquainted with Derry, but for those that aren't, it's a 16 mile road race, run in New Hampshire in January. It's notorious for being hilly and cold (duh), and is theoretically supposed to be a good pace-predictor for the Boston Marathon.

So, 2014. I had one plan for the race, and it was not to repeat 2012. (By the time I finished the 2012 race, I had sworn bitter oaths never to run Derry again, or indeed any distance over half marathon--fortunately you kind of forget that end-of-race feeling).

I car-pooled up with Dan from HFC, and we arrived in good time to get a parking spot at the middle school. Conditions were sunny and windy, with ambient air temperature around 14 degrees fahrenheit. This was fairly warm next to the local Massachusetts temps we've been having over the last week, and would have been down-right pleasant except for the wind gusts. I went with XC skiing tights, tech shirt, nylon vest, mittens and headband, with some energy chews in my vest pocket.

At the start of the race, I fingered the chrono on my wrist-watch, then decided to leave it alone. I would start my chrono at mile 13, the same place I blew up in 2012--that would set the stakes: the first 13 miles don't matter--only the last 3.

I started easily and fell into a rhythm, using the time-of-day mode of my watch to very roughly estimate I was opening at around a 7 minute mile pace. It was a nice conversational start, and I exchanged pleasantries with some of the other runners. Weather was New-England-winter-gorgeous, with white fields glinting under a blue sky, and spindrift snow curling into the air from the banks beneath the deep shadow of the evergreens.

By mile 3, I was clearly running under 7 minute pace, but I didn't know exactly and didn't want to know. I was still running well inside myself, thinking all the time of mile 13--how I would feel when I got there, and what it would feel like to really put the pedal down.

I was mostly, slowly passing people through mile 9 or so. Shortly before the first big hill, two guys caught up to me. I debated chasing them, but decided to keep to my plan: 13 mile workout, 3 mile race. As it happened, they slowed way down on that first steep bit after you take that left turn, and I slipped by them again.

Round about the series of hills at mile 11, another guy around my age caught up. His pace was a hair faster than mine, but I let it pull me along. We grunted encouragement to each other, and reeled in another couple runners.

Coming off the hills, we had a brief conversation. I don't remember exactly what he said--something about this being a good time to go. I said, "yeah--just trying to make it to 13--it's going to be game on from there." He agreed. A minute later one of his friends had caught up with us, and he mentioned in a friendly way how I had been talking some smack about the last 3 miles.

Then the mile 13 marker came into sight. I felt a thrill of excitement. Up until now, even through the hills, I had been running contained, but now the thought I had been patterning in my head, over and over, rose to the forefront of my consciousness: that the mile 13 marker was a start line, that I would hit it and begin to race. I wormed one hand out of its mitten, and with clumsy cold fingers maneuvered to start my chrono.

The mile 13 marker. I hit my watch, and surged forward. Floating behind me, I heard the words, "holy shit, you weren't kidding!". My stride lengthened, and the two other guys in my pack started to fall away. I felt pleasure mingled with doubt, remembering the feeling of being betrayed by my body when the wheels popped off in 2012. Still, there are times when a little faith is called for, and this after all had been the plan all along.

The mile 14 marker came up with surprising speed. The field was sparse here, but I saw ahead of me a girl running (the lead woman?). 6:03 on the watch. I dug in, holding the pace. Gas still in the tank! It was a wonderful feeling. As we rounded the curve onto the 3rd-to-last road, I pulled in the girl ahead of me. She was running hard, but you could hardly tell--very clean stride. I kept pulling. Mile 15, 12:05. In the distance I saw two figures running together and I started to work toward them. The distance closed as I flashed down onto the little cross-street where the race had started, and now I could see (despite vision slightly blurry from the cold), that ahead was the BAA girl leading the woman's race.

I worked the last uphill to the middle school, but despite closing hard I still finished 6 seconds back from the two people I was chasing. I clicked my watch and found I had run 18:10 for the last 3 miles, a bit better, even, than goal half marathon pace.

So here was a run that went perfectly to plan, and sweet redemption for 2012. I had played conservatively with my physiological resources, and come out with a PR. It amazes me to think that in 2012 I was five minutes faster than today at the half-marathon mark, and five minutes slower at the finish. I ran almost an inverted version of that race--slow at the beginning, then slightly accelerating, then accelerating a lot, and ultimately negative-splitting.

  49   694 David Woodruff          M  30 NEEDHAM           MA    8   32:00  6:24    7 1:03:46  6:23    8 1:24:53  6:29 1:51:30  6:59 
   25  5  David Woodruff  M32 Needham, MA   34:12/6:51  1:29:56(est) 1:46:47/6:41