I think I’ve written this before, so I apologize in advance
for the repetition (on many levels). And yes, this is my one and only “race
report” post of the year, similar to last year’s very wordy recap. I’ll try to
be more succinct this time. I’m already not doing a good job of that. Anyway,
here’s how I was going to start this post: When people I haven’t seen in a
while ask me, “hey Pete, you still running?” … my reflexive answer is, “Nah,
not really.” Which, if you really think about it, is true. Sure, I have my
early-morning run partners, who I meet twice a week – in a good week, maybe
three times. Other than that, when I get up early in the morning, the preferred
mode of ambulation is walking instead of running. So am I “Once a Runner,” like
the title of the famous book? Pretty much, yeah.
I say “pretty much” because for one day each year – a Saturday
in August, in Pittsfield, Massachusetts – I take part in an 8-hour, fixed-time
ultramarathon called the “Sweltering Summer Ultra” on a dirt “track” (it’s a stretch
to call it a track, see pre-race photo above after a night of heavy rain) at
Clapp Park in the Berkshire city that’s about 85 miles from home. As race
director Benn Griffin calls it, it’s a day for the “Laps of Clapp” – a neat
community of runners, joggers and walkers, united and bound by the spirit of community
service, movement and camaraderie, from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. on a summer Saturday. Benn
does a great job of fostering this community feel through his many Facebook
posts throughout the year on the race’s FB page; also, this is part of the
BURCS ultramarathon series, which adds to the communal aspect to the event. It’s
my fifth year doing it; I’m only one of three who have participated in every
edition of the race. God willing, I’ll go back every year.
The one day in Pittsfield is MY one day every year. For the
other 364 days, my world generally revolves around the movement of others: My
Marist teams, my alumni runners, my children’s teams, my family’s myriad
activities. I say this with not a hint of bitterness; in fact, I revel in this
stage of my life, where I am a chauffeur (and coach) for wonderful Marist
athletes and alums, and compliant driver/cheerleader for my family members. On
Saturday, for once, I was not the audience, I was the participant.
As I wrote last year, my primary goal with this event is to
complete 74 laps, which equals a marathon. It extends my streak of completing
one marathon per year, now at 31 years. Beyond that, there are other goals: 88
laps is 50 kilometers (31 miles), 100 laps is, well, 100 laps (35.53 miles) –
each lap is precisely .3553746428 of a mile, 113 laps (40 miles), and so on. Last
year, if you’ll recall, I covered 99 laps, and received much good natured
ribbing from my family for not getting into triple digits. So, that was a last
goal to achieve for this year, 100 laps. Of course, upon arriving at Clapp Park
at around 5:30 a.m., after a night of heavy rain, a good portion of the “track”
was under water. Yikes! Fortunately, it didn’t rain for the entire eight hours,
but for the first few hours, that section of the course was really slick. Being
a Falling Hazard, I nimbly tip-toed that section each lap until the blazing sun
dried it out.
OK, the stats: I completed 109 laps, for a total of
38.7358360652 miles. I was able to achieve my jog/walk homeostasis, covering 55
laps in the first 4 hours and 54 laps in the second 4 hours. That’s as close to
even pacing as you’ll get in these type of races. My marathon “split” was
around 5:16 and my 50km split came about an hour later (6:19, if I vaguely
recall through squinty/sweaty eyes). Other than a few quick trips to the
Port-o-potty, I didn’t stop moving (see "action" shot, I'm the schmoe in the tube socks), nor did I leave the course for one moment.
This represents a 10-lap improvement from 2016, and I have decided to call it
my first “post-surgery PR.” I briefly flirted with the idea of approaching 40
miles, but honestly there was no physical way I could have gone any faster (“faster”? … this isn’t exactly fast moving)
than I did. My last lap was completed with 45 seconds to spare (no partial laps
were counted), so I definitely got my money’s worth and trashed my body to the
fullest extent possible.
No comments:
Post a Comment