The 4AM alarm was almost too much to handle. The only reason for getting up so early is to climb a mountain either before the noon thunderstorms hit or the sun turns the snow into wet mashed potatoes. But my carpool was picking me up at 5AM and still I needed to eat, tape my feet, load my gear, slather on sunscreen, and mentally prepare myself for what lay ahead. Namely, the Bangtail Divide 38K trail running race.
In stark contrast to the mega full moon from the triathlon just two weeks ago for which I was up at 2AM (I really need to stop making a habit of this!), only the tiniest fingernail sliver of a moon was rising over the Bangtail Mountains. The temperature was a blessed ten degrees cooler than the previous several days, the skies were clear, and I only had 23.6 miles and 4,000 feet of climbing and descending between me and my goal. Not quite a marathon, but close enough.
The route follows the Bangtail Divide trail from Stone Creek to Bracket Creek. This is a classic single track mountain bike ride, and now a trail running race that is growing in popularity. There were only 28 finishers in last year’s inaugural event, but this year’s had nearly 100. Except for the first mile from Bridger Canyon Road to the official trail head, the entire route is on single track trails. We have had a consistently wet spring, so the entire route was lined with wildflowers. Around the halfway point, you cross a mile-long open meadow with views both east to the Crazy Mountains and west to the Bridger Mountains. The entire field was blanketed in the deep blues of lupine and larkspur. My suffering was in full swing, but the setting made me happy to be alive.
At around mile 17 I was greeted by my wife as I approached the last of three aid stations. From this point on I had a couple of rolling miles, one last solid climb, and a pounding 4 mile descent to the finish. I was tired, but still holding my target pace. As long as my old knees did not give up on me, I figured I would be OK.
I should step back, though. First, I am not a runner. I set silly goals like this in order to give myself the motivation to go out and exercise. My longest running race to date was a 17 mile trail run/hike last year. My longest training run this year was only around 16 miles. So I knew that suffering would be involved. Also, the last six miles of a marathon are notoriously cruel. Perhaps only two and a half months of training was a mistake.
The first sign of trouble was when I crested Grassy Mountain and started the long downhill to the finish. My hips and knees were hurting and starting to tighten up so I stopped and took a minute to stretch out. With about 3 miles to go, my calves started to cramp up, forcing me to stop and stretch more. With two miles to go, I was reduced to walking and my goal of a 5 hour finish was gone. One mile to go and I was forced to walk backwards down the steeper steps. And all the time people were passing me. With one switchback to go and the finish line in sight, and having been greeted by my wife who hiked up the trail to figure out what happened to me, two more racers were bearing down on me. Time to dig deep and not let them pass!
In the end, I probably lost twenty minutes and ten places on the last downhill three miles. It was definitely entering the unknown for me and I gave it all I had at the time. Two days later and I am finally walking almost normally. This one is going to take some time to recover from. Now it is time for fishing and hanging out in the mountains. Summer in Montana!
7 Comments
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Hmmm. “Two days later and I am finally walking almost normally. This one is going to take some time to recover from.”
Just confirms my fervent belief that running is bad for you. Running from tigers = good. Running for any other reason = bad. I stand by my hypothesis, actually able to stand. Not that I think you’ll be convinced or anything. Jus sayin that’s why I’m sitting comfortably in my chair with a beer instead.
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I knew I could count on you to put this in perspective. I tend to agree…running bad. But there was beer at the finish line. And it was a glorious day. So it was all worthwhile.
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Tony, you were out there doing it and you’ll always have that memory of adventure. Who gives a rats butt what place you ended up in. You challenged yourself and you won. Barry on the other hand sat on his butt drank a beer, just like the day before and the day before that; no challenge, no adventure and no memories to carry in to the years ahead.
My hats off to you for being out there and taking a chance on doing something good for yourself.
Thanks for sharing your adventure.-
Thanks, Willy. But the beauty of it is that Barry is a good friend and there is little better than sharing a beer with him. He works is tail off in other ways that I just don’t comprehend.
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Of course, if, while sitting together enjoying that beer, a tiger just happened to come along, you’d have the edge on me running away, since you’ve been doing all this practicing running from tigers stuff. I’d be tiger bait. So there’s that.
It will only be when we’re OLD beer drinkers, and you’re cripple from all these years of practice, that I’d have any hope of getting away. So, there’s that, too. Basically, you get eaten either way. Is it time to have that beer now? I hear Montana is a pretty hop-pin place these days. 😉
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Ah, yes. Out here you don’t have to run fast to escape the bear, or tiger for that matter….just faster than the person you are with to escape. I usually take the time to change out of my hiking boots and into my running shoes as a bear is charging.
Yes, it’s time to share that beer. Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll make it back east this year. I’ll tip one for you, though.
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Mores the pity. No worries man, I’ll pull up the rear any time.
Next time you’re here we’ll rock the boat a bit, in more ways than one
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