Born Runner, desperately late to the party.

This is an account of the first two races of three that I did in 2009.  The 3rd race report will follow.  All are somewhat remarkable for someone clearly running the wrong way.

In the summer of 2008 I retired from the USAF and we moved to Colorado’s ski country.  We picked the place we now live in because it looked like a great area for biking and hiking, and oh yeah that skiing thing.  Running?  It wasn’t something we considered.

In the summer of 2009, family was visiting and to entertain them, we took a ride up a gondola at a nearby ski resort.  Once we were up there, I noticed what looked like the finishing line of at trail race.  I simply had to find out the details.

As it turned out, what I'd seen was the end of a race that was part of a 5 part trail race series, all shorter events, all local.  Most of them were spaced at 2 weeks apart.  Before I could blink, I was signed up for the next one, two weeks away.

OK, what just happened is that a non-runner, having not been running for 7 years, signed up for a challenging and competitive, high altitude 5k hill climb, topping out at 10,000 feet with a claimed average grade of 12%.  Furthermore, I’d *never* gone for a trail run, much less a trail race!

I’ve really done it this time.  What can I do to prepare in just 13 days?  I’m guessing nothing.  I had pre-hiked the course but really couldn’t imagine what I was in for, aside from burning lungs, burning legs and possibly the sting of public humiliation.

Race day came and all I could think about was “What am I doing here?”  Of the 150 folks around me, surely I’m the only one in this position!

The whistle blows and just like that, oxygen debt has me and my lactate acid threshold comes along nearly as quick.  A big bottleneck forms as the mass hits the first trail constriction and puts me back because I’m on the backside of the mass.  The race leaders are streaming away at the pointy end of the group and I’m stuck in traffic.  The rest of the race feels much like damage control with my breathing near maximum output.

I just keep pushing on up as best I can and when the finish line comes, at long last, I think “Wow, that was an eye opener!!”.

As it turns out, a friend races this whole series and trains a good part of the year for it.  He’s also in my age group.  I find him afterwards and we talk through the “so how’d you dos”, waiting for the results to be posted.

For these trail races, my age group often provides a couple of people for the overall 1st, 2nd, and 3rd podium spots.   This area is a competitive location to race in.  You aren’t going show up at a popular race in Colorado and take an age group win without being talented and very well trained.  I expect to be at the bottom of my heap, if not lower. :)

The results post and of the 19 in our age group, my friend takes 4th in it.  Our top age grouper takes 3rd overall, of about 150 total racers.  I almost fall over when I see that I’ve placed 6th in my AG!  How can that be?  What would have happened if I could have been on the front of that bottleneck?  I’m stunned...and fascinated.

Next up…

So, I’m in for the next race in two weeks.  This time, it’s a 10k starting at 10,000 ft elevation and mostly at or above 10,000 feet.  Apparently I don’t learn.  Now, I’m signed up to really run, 6 miles at high altitude.  Standing at the next starting line, I’ve done a total of 6 training runs.  That’s hilarious.  Most of these were roughly 3-mile jogs just to try and get my legs conditioned to the idea of running.

Over 200 people showed for the 10K at 10,000 feet.  I’d guess that it’s much more appealing than trudging up a 12% grade with 150 friends.  This race is another first for me.  I’ve never done a 10k before.

Waiting for the start, I bump into my fellow age group buddy.  I tell him that I'm expecting something around 57 minutes and hope that I can actually manage it, but how could I know what to expect?  My second ever trail race, first 10k and at elevation.  I may just die up here.

The start area is packed when the countdown begins and we're off.  From the start area the route drops a little bit before heading up a steep climb.  Thankfully the trail is wide so there is plenty of room for runners to get their pace and place sorted out.  We top out after climbing about 100 feet to 10,460 and then start our fast descent down a wide and relatively smooth service road.  At the 1-mile mark my split is 7:16.  At 10,214 feet we hop on a narrow single track trail and begin our climb right back up to where we just came from.  I'm feeling good but I'm holding myself back slightly to keep from going too hard early on.  This single track eventually dumps out onto the service road we came down and it is pretty steep there.  I've been trading places with a few youngsters but what I keep seeing is my age group buddy right in front of me.  At the 2-mile mark the mile split is 8:39.  Now we’re on a steep section that I almost have to walk.  I'm still hanging in right behind John but I know for a fact that that's not going to last.  I have to assume that my ability to hold a steady effort will drop sharply before long.  After all, I have no base mileage, no stamina, or tempo workouts under my belt.  All I have is my genetics and the will to forge on.

After passing the intersection at the top of the hill that we first climbed, we head off to the Southeast on a single track trail and now we're on a continual climb to an 11,000 foot peak.  At 2.6 miles the trail turns steep for 3/10 of a mile and I decide to quickly walk this section.  I hit the 3-mile mark and the split is 12:01.  At 3.4 miles the trail turns steep again just below the summit and once more I walk for 2/10 of a mile to the top.  From here, hold onto your hats because its nearly all downhill to the finish line.

With about half of the race left and with the majority of the climbing done, I open it up as best I can.  I'm still feeling pretty good at this point but I've lost sight of my friend.  The only contact I have with other runners is a 20 or 30-something that isn't maintaining an even pace.  At this point of the race we're on uneven ground and you really have to continually read the trail surface for each foot placement.  After running downhill a little while I can tell that I'd like just a little more mid-sole protection but aside from that, my shoe choice is paying off.  My fourth mile averages to 9:30.

At 4.2 miles our trail hits another single track and the course takes an extremely sharp turn back toward the start area.  2 miles left in this race and I'm feeling fine.  Shortly after making this turn I see another runner ahead of me.  It seems like I might be able to reel him in by the finish and become very interesting in doing so.  At 4.8 miles I'm right on him and I hop off the track to his left and push by.  I definitely don't want him to latch onto me so I move the pace up for a few hundred meters.  Mile 5 split comes in 7:26.

Aside from my surge past the runner, I've been keeping a pretty steady pace.  5.5 miles marks the bottom of a small hill and I power up it keeping my speed.  Coming down the other side of the hill, at the very bottom there's a slight dip across the trail and my right foot digs in.  In an instant, I'm down and down hard onto my hands and knees.  My GPS data shows that I went from a sub-7 minute mile clip, to a slide and never stopped.  I was back up and running almost instantly.  Not soon enough to keep all of my external layers intact however.  I glance down and see blood on both of my lower legs and there is certainly some pain.  Bent on not letting this skip off the dirt effect my finishing time, I'm right back at the same pace and my 6-mile split is 7:20.

I can hear the distant cheers from the finishing area and I have one last rise to crest before I can see it.  People are lining the trail and yelling stuff like "Right on, looking great!" and I feel quite strong.  I push hard to the finish and cover the last 2/10 of a mile at an average pace of 5:42.  Right across the line are my racing buddy and my wife.  He exclaims, "Great job! You were right behind me!!"

My finish time is 52:41.  Faster than I could have imagined.  Of 209, someone in our age group took the race, 1st place overall.  Of the 33 that showed up for our AG, my pal takes 7th, I’m into 9th.  Another top ten finish for me with very near Zero training.

Now I have a problem.  I’m hooked and really want to find a certified road race to close out the season.  A certified road course will give me a basis to move forward from.

Next up, another first.  A half-marathon following another 24 sketchy training runs.

Yes, I'm running wrong but I’m clearly not wrong for running.