SURVIVOR MONADNOCK

Let me start by saying that I have never done a trail race anything like the Monadnock 12k. It was advertised as the most difficult trail race in New England, which is quite the claim given races such as the 7 Sisters and the Pisgah 50k. After running the Monadnock race, it may not be most difficult, but I am absolutely positive it is the most dangerous.

On race morning, I was excited to be driving to new race that was east of 91. The description of an up to the summit and back down 12k race on hiking trails definitely got my interest. The 2000ft of vertical on the ascent was sure to make it tough race, and the rain that started on Friday night before the race wasn't going to make it any easier. I got to the start with plenty of time to check out the course. I needed to figure out which of my four Inov-8 shoes I wanted to run in. I started to run up the mountain in my Flyrocs, and at first look, the trail seemed very runable. That lasted for about a kilometer, then the race turned right and the footing got much rougher, with thick roots, sharp rocks, and some mud. I ended up going about 1.5 miles up the course, and tested out some surprisingly technical sections higher up on the mountain. I was comfortable with the Flyrocs, and headed back down to the start.

Prior to the start, I asked Elijah Barret about the upper sections of course. He is from the area, and is pretty familiar with the Monadnock trails. He also won the race last year. Elijah mentioned that the organizers were debating turning the runners around before the top, as it was snowing and pretty windy up there. The decision was made to run the whole course and we off up the mountain.

I took the lead from the start, and Elijah and Greg Hammett followed close behind. At times a would get a bit of lead, but it was never more than a few seconds. I soon realized that the footing was so consistently technical that you couldn't run all out. You were constantly picking out your foot placements, and sections of some ground were few and far between. There was a considerable amount of hand-over-foot climbing, and it was obvious the descent would involve considerable danger if you were trying to run fast.

While the race was in the trees, the trail was easy to follow. As the trees thinned, it was hard to see the yellow dots on the rocks or the small cairns. At one point, I headed off trail, and Elijah and Greg passed me as they called me back on course. Elijah started to push the pace, and Greg let me by so I could chase him. Greg stuck with me as we caught back up with Elijah, but it was obvious that he knew the trails very well. Soon after this, my wedding band flew off my finger as I swung from a tree. Greg was quick to spot it and handed it back to me. We lost contact with Elijah as a result of this. As we reached the exposed summit section, it became increasingly difficult to spot the trail and even though Elijah wasn't that far ahead, the terrain was very uneven, and visibility was getting bad. It had been snowing since we reached the upper sections of the mountain, and the wind was getting stronger with every vertical foot.

Unlike other New England mountains, Monadnock has an expansive exposed section due to a forest fire. Unlike a typical mountain, where you go steadily uphill to the summit, the Monadnock ridge has several small ascents and descents on the way to the top. We were above the tree line for about 10 minutes. I couldn't believe how bad the weather was on March 7th at only 3000ft above sea level. It was weather I would expect on Mt. Washington, which was 2 hours north and 3000ft higher. It was snowing quite hard, and the wind was a steady 40-50 mph. Greg and I helped each other find the cairns and stay on trail, which was becoming increasingly difficult. We had to yell to hear each other above the wind.

I then spotted Elijah on his down, so I knew we were close to the summit. We reached a high point, but there were other similar elevations in the distance, so we were unsure if we had reached the top. We asked a hiker if this was the top, but he couldn't hear us. At this point, the wind must have been about 60mph, and a gust knocked me right over. I could have started down after Elijah, but I wasn't too confident I would be able to find the trail by myself, so I waited for Greg to put a jacket on. At that point the race was over for me, and I just wanted Greg and I to get back down in one piece. I instantly came to the realization that if someone got lost or hurt in these conditions, they would be in grave danger in a matter of minutes. My hands went numb in the minute it took Greg to get his jacket on. I have never been so concerned for my own survival during a trail race, nothing comes even close.

We quickly headed down in the direction we thought the trail went, but soon were off trail, we spotted our hiker friend, who did a great job of keeping us on the course as the wind blew us around. The wind was so strong, by eyelids turned inside out a couple of times, and my left eye was stinging badly from the wind-driven snow. About 400 meters from the summit, we ran into the fourth place runner, and advised him to go down. He decided to go anyway, and I was a bit shocked. I later found out that he was familiar with the trails, but it still seemed a little crazy to me. There was no one left on summit, and if had gotten injured, it would have been bad.

When we finally made it to a more protected side of the mountain, Greg and I ran into Ed Alibozek, who told us that they had turned around the rest of the runners early, but must had missed the first four racers. The rest of the way down was relatively uneventful, but even running conservatively, the trail was still dangerous. Elijah had no idea we had backed off, and flew down the mountain thinking we were right behind. Due to his familiarity with the trails, he was really never concerned about his safety, in stark contrast to many others in the race.

I still can't believe how crazy it was at the summit. The 2005 Monadnock 12k is likely to be remembered by all who dared to run it for a very, very, long time. Next year, if it is raining on race day, I may think twice about getting in the car to head to the race. One epic Monadnock experience is enough for me.

Still defrosting,

Ben

7 Sisters 2005

7 Sisters 2005

This is always a tough race, even when you are in shape. For this year’s race, I was a bit more concerned than usual. My training in the second half of the winter was quite dismal. On top a busy work schedule, I got sick a couple of times, had some minor surgery, and my workout planning was poor. I really haven’t had such low mileage since being injured in college several years ago. Considering that I tend to sustain a consistent workload throughout the year, I don’t have much experience with coming back from a break in training. I discovered my starting point at the New Bedford half marathon, where I ran about two minutes slower than last year, and had a very painful recovery due to the attempt at running above my fitness level. It could have been worse, but it takes me a while to get in shape even without a gap in my training, so I knew had some work ahead of me. 7 Sisters is early in the trail season, and it’s the type of race that amplifies any weakness in your training. Although it seemed that I was getting lucky with Paul Low(3 time defending champ) being in Japan, it just added the pressure that I should win since Paul wasn’t there. I was the last non-Paul winner, and have been second (a distant second) during each of his wins.

That’s where I was prior to the start. The weather added an additional X factor with a very wet course. Paul and I had actually recently debated what was worse, a wet 7 Sisters or a warm 7 Sisters. I have the run the trail with a bit of both, and preferred the slippery wet course to the heat that baked your brain on the relentless hills. He would rather take the heat. Maybe the 7 Sisters knew that Paul would miss the race, and decided to grant me my condition of choice. I’d rather have the trail bone dry and cool, but that was not going to happen. Although it was supposed to clear up on race after two days of rain, it started to rain as we lined up for the start.

The field was quite strong even without Paul. Leigh and Keith Schmitt are both former multiple race winners, Greg Colburn has been running very well in the New England Mountain series races, and Judson Cake has run a low 2:30 marathon and regularly beats me in XC. I took the lead up the first 300ft climb and several people latched on. In addition to the usual suspects, we had my old GBTC teammate Bryan Graham and his Harvard colleague, John. My race plan was to take it relatively easy the first half of the race, and see how I felt after that. As it started to rain harder, there really wasn’t any other option. You couldn’t run the uphills too hard due to slipping on the mud, and the too much speed on the downhills was a high risk endeavor with greasy rocks.

On the third or fourth hill, Leigh passed me for the lead, with several cheers of, “Go Leigh” from all his fans a few seconds behind us. I couldn’t really see who was back there, but we must have still had about 10 people close to the lead after running for 15-20 minutes, which is uncommon for a course that tends to separate people early on. After a short pause, there were a couple of “Go Ben” shouts out of pity. I laughed. The funny thing is, I do about 95% of my running by myself in complete silence, and talk more during races than I ever do in training. From my experience at 7 Sisters, talking is a very good idea during the first half of the race, as it keeps you from going out to hard. Going out a bit too hard at this race leads to exponentially more suffering during the last miles. I don’t get to see my trail running friends that often, so it’s always nice to catch up with everybody at the races. With Leigh, we have most of our long conversations on the trail.

After about 25 minutes of running, Judson, Leigh, and myself separated from the chase pack quite suddenly. No real increase in effort, it just happened. Leigh actually picked up the pace a bit to take try and widen the gap, but we were still running quite comfortably. Judson kept insisting that he was just hanging on as long as he could, but I don’t think either Leigh or I really believed him, as he was easily keeping up the pace and could certainly handle the technical nature of the trail. On a couple of occasions, some random runner from the chase pack would reel us in for a while, and then quickly fade back. I was perplexed by this, as I had never witnessed this behavior in my six years of 7 Sisters. At some point during the first half, I commented that Judson, Leigh, and I could run the course relatively easy until the large hill about 20 minutes before the finish, and then start running hard, and the finish order would be the same as if we had run hard the whole way. Little did I know.

As we began the long descent from the Summit House to the turnaround point, the three of us traded the lead a few times. No one made a real move, but Leigh began to pick up some speed on downhills. I thought we making good time considering the conditions until runners began to catch us. One guy flew by with reckless abandon, and I thought he might have missed the start. He seemed to be extremely fast on the downhill, and out of curiosity I passed Leigh to see if I could stay with him. I caught him pretty quickly, as he backed off his aggressive pace. Heading into the turnaround aid station, there must have been 7-8 runners within a few seconds of the lead. Since it was chilly, I didn’t feel the need for any water, so turned right around and took the lead back up to the Summit House. Before long, Judson and Leigh assembled into formation, and we were pulling away from the field.

At this point in the race, I began to feel good about my chances at winning. I was still comfortable with the effort on one of the harder climbs, and no one seemed interested in passing. Even when I walked the steeper sections, no one made a move. By the time we had crossed the road and gone up another 300ft climb, Leigh was giving Judson a hard time about his “hanging on” story. He was still running very strong, but I noticed that he would lose a couple of steps on some of the tougher uphills. Given the difficulty in making up lost ground at 7 Sisters, no one does that on purpose, so I knew he was starting to fade. I was still not all that confident in my strength in such a long race, so I was trying to be as cautious as possible. Besides the exhausting soggy uphills, the rest of the field had done a number on the downhills, and they were increasing more difficult to safely navigate in the upright position. I think the three of us had several close calls on the way back.

When we reached the low point with about 20 minutes of racing left, Leigh was in the lead. When he neglected to increase the pace on the one flat 400m section of trail, I passed him and began to pull away. I thought that he might be saving up for the Pine Needle Hill, the hill that usually plays a large part in the finish order. This hill hits you with three tiers of hell, and is walked for the most part. It sucks whatever life is left in your quads, and amplifies the smallest differences in fatigue between competitors. For Leigh and I, it was the moment of truth. I ran and walked as hard as I could without totally wasting my legs, and waited for him to pass me. I took a quick look back after a right turn, and saw that I had put several steps on him. At that point, I was quite confident I would win. I’ve been in Leigh’s position, and unless the person in front falls, it is very unlikely that you will catch them. With every uphill, you lose a few steps, and if you try to make up on the downhills, you hurt your uphill performance even more. I think he came to this realization when he yelled, “Ben, you f-----!!” I laughed.

However, I am well aware that Leigh is one of the best downhill runners in New England, so I tried to capitalize on my uphill advantage. At the top of the last uphill, I seemed to have a large lead. Now, I didn’t back off the pace, but I did try and make sure I made it the finish in one piece. This last downhill is by far the most technical section on the course, and by the time you hit it, your legs are Jell-O, and your reaction time about double. On top of this, my wife had expressed grave concern about the condition of the course, as she knows how tough it is even when dry. I still have a large scar on my hand from the year I won the race. I thought I was doing well until I hear the avalanche behind me. What the hell is he doing? He has a one year-old son, his days of recklessly bombing down near vertical descents are behind him! I guess no one told him that. I must have had at least 10 seconds on him before the downhill, but he was reeling me in like I was in slow motion. As the adrenalin flooded my arteries, I threw it into overdrive. You could never get me to run that fast on that section of trail without Leigh chasing me during the 7 Sisters. A fall would most likely have resulted in serious bodily harm. We were running down a 45 degree slope at about 5 minute mile pace over and through wet rocks the size of coffee tables. At times we were probably covering 10-12ft of ground with a single stride, bounding from wet boulder to mud to wet boulder. I knew he might very well pass me, given the ground he had already covered, but he was going to have to work for it. As it was, I hung on to win by about 2 seconds in under 1:54.

Since I’ve only been able to win 7 Sisters twice in 7 attempts, this win means a bit more than some of my other trail races. I think what I enjoyed most was using my 7 years of New England trail running wisdom to finish in one piece with a decent time.