| January 2002 Newsletter |
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GREEN MOUNTAIN MARATHON
Let's get oriented: The Green Mountain Marathon is held on Grande Island, which is located in Lake Champlain. The middle of this lake divides New York from Vermont. The island is located on the Vermont side. (Erratum: The last FLRC newsletter listed this marathon as being in New Hampshire, which is not the case. New Hampshire is to the east of Vermont.) Plattsburg is located on the New York side of the lake. The Grande Island Ferry runs from Plattsburg to Grande Island 24 hours a day. Burlington is located on the Vermont side and a little south of the island and hosts the very popular Vermont Marathon held in the spring.
Let's get there: The tale starts as I drove my van onto the ferry at Plattsburg. As the ferry left from the pilings on a Friday it was a blustery and white cap evening. The first mate said to the captain, "it is a blustery and white cap evening." And the captain said, "it is a blustery and white cap evening." And I said, "it is a blustery and white cap evening." You may now assume that the strong southerly wind is going to be a dominant theme.
I was eager to take in the Green Mountains of Vermont, which run from Canada south and contain the famous Appalachian Trail as well as the Long Trail that afford fantastic hiking opportunities. I left my car and headed towards the fore deck on the leeward side. I had visions of Leo Dicaprio in "Titanic" standing on the bow with my hands outstretched, and wind in my face as I watched dolphins playing in the ship's bow waves. This image came crashing down quickly as we rounded a point and came full into the large fetch of Lake Champlain. The wind was intense and the waves made the hull shutter as they crashed into it. I turned my head to see if the High Peaks, the mountains in New York, were visible. They rival the Green Mountains for raw impact and beauty. Just as I turned I was suddenly hit by spray as a wave broke full across the ferry. I made a hasty retreat to my van. I needed to turn on the windshield wipers to get a glimpse of any mountains at all.
My thoughts turned to Winnie the Pooh, as I sat in my van, and the story about piglet being caught by the blustery wind one fall day where he was launched into the air ending up in owl's tree house. Owl told him not to worry, the ever-calm sage, as the chairs slid across the floor and the tree was toppled. Then my thoughts got gloomier, as water dripped down the window glass, and I realized that same kind of strong wind would be directly into my face during the return half of the marathon attempting to topple me like Owl's tree. I began to get nervous, which is something I rarely do before races anymore. You see my goal was to qualify for the Boston Marathon and I had been sticking, more than not, to a 16-week training program designed for running marathons. Unlike ski racing where a time means little to mark ones progress, due to the affect of differing snow conditions from race to race, running times were suppose to be a better reflection of your progress. This race was to be the test of my training and my resolve and unfavorable conditions like the wind could add minutes to my time. In ski racing you race skiers and not the clock so the wind would not matter, it is the same problem for everyone philosophically. The life preserver that would save me depended solely on the first three numbers on the finishing clock as I crossed the line, which had to be equal or less than 3:30.
Things got better as the ferry neared the island and the water calmed in a lee cove. I drove off and parked by a small food concession. I walked out back and now that my feet were on terra firma and on the battleground I started going through a mental change. The high peaks looked spectacular as I looked back into New York. I became more confident or at least felt ready to do battle with the GMM now that I was here. I started to focus on racing and the challenge ahead.
My first concern was finding a place to sleep. I like being real close to the start of a race, and my plan was to stay in the Grande Island Campground a few miles away from the race. This campground has the reputation of being one of the gems in the Vermont system. I knew it would be closed as of October 15 and it was the 19. I walked into the lean-to shelters, and found they were very nicely situated on a bluff overlooking the lake with the Green Mountains as a backdrop. The beach was covered with rocks and calling me, and it looked like a great place to stay except for one thing. You probably could guess this one by now. The wind was blowing into the lean-to and the temperatures were in the 40 range. So, I opted to sleep in my car just outside the campground.
I drove up to a hilly field overlooking the shoreline and had a precooked pasta dinner as I watched the sun go down. There was a two-story house with a pagoda like structure on top. This was a neat house with views of both mountain ranges from the pagoda lookout. I then went back to the campground and slept soundly until around 2 AM when I began wondering if the wind was starting to lessen as I listened to it wax and wane, which led to nighttime strategizing about how to run in the wind.
When morning came I ate my standard traveling race breakfast, oatmeal with some hot water from a thermos. I was off to South Hero, located at the southern end of the island and the starting point of the race. The school was race headquarters and the race had a real FLRC feel to it. The directors were Howard and Nan Atherton, husband and wife. They are part of the Green Mountain Athletic Association, which has a slate of races put on during the course of the year just like at FLRC. The course starts and ends near the house where Clarence Demar, 7-time winner of the Boston Marathon, use to live. It is an out and back on rolling and about half dirt roads that are well maintained. The temperature was in the 50s with 10 to 20 MPH winds.
Let's Race: The race started at 8:30 AM and headed due south into the wind for the first mile. This was okay because we had a pack of half and full marathoners of about 300, and they acted as a windbreak. We turned west and at mile two descended the largest hill on the course to the shoreline road. This would be mile 25 on the way back so I was checking it out. At this point the wind was not noticeable because it was at my back. My strategy at this point was not to worry about splits, but to try and run by pacing as I had worked out on a flat course near my home. I had mile markers on this course and found that a 7:40 pace felt good as my marathon pace and I practiced until I had the feel for this pace. However, with the wind assist I knew I was faster than that now. Around six miles the half marathoners were coming back and I soon could tell who was going to be running with me for the rest of the race. Miles seemed to glide by easily and I was anticipating the turn around. I hit it in 1:38:30 and now had a cushion to work with going into the wind. The northern part of the island was sheltered, probably due to high hills to the south. I had a small pack with four power gels. I took my first one at mile 14 and it went into my system so that by mile 16 I felt like sprinting. I knew this was one of those false highs like a false peak in mountain climbing; you start picking it up thinking the summit is right ahead only to find as you reach the rise you thought was the summit, off in the distance is the real summit. I realized it was the power gel kicking in and the roller coaster ride of emotions and physical gremlins were starting and would continue to the finish. This is why marathoning is such an alluring race distance for me; it is experiencing a set of bodily changes that are unique to these endurance events. Of course, some would say I am nuts, but not those that have taken on the challenge. This feeling to sprint ended quickly and I was still gliding on pace around 19 miles when I took the second gel anticipating the notorious 20-mile wall. I was around 2:30 through 20 miles and on a 3:16 pace, but things started to change rapidly. The wind all of a sudden hit me full in the face as we approached the south part of the island and were not protected from the southerly fetch of the lake. I was starting to slow and needed to force myself to run smoothly now as energy levels were dropping. At mile 22 I went for my third gel. I remember this one distinctly; it was vanilla flavored and hit me with such intense flavor that I almost couldn't swallow. This was not a good sign, as I knew from other long distance races. It was the precursor of depleting energy reserves, an internal energy low that was intensifying my sense of taste. As I started to get tired, the rolling hills were more of a challenge and fluid running was gone now. My concentration was on running as best I could as my muscles started to tighten and ache. I reached the last hill at mile 25. I felt it in the quads but no cramping fortunately just tired legs. I got up to the top of the hill and turned north, finally 1.2 miles down wind and flat as a pancake. I looked at my watch and it was 3:19. I had 11 minutes to get in. I had eaten up most of my cushion between 20 and 25 miles. I forced it up a notch to get back on pace and got in at 3:28 and it never felt so good to stop. Yeah! The right three numbers were on the finishing clock.
-- Jim Hoch
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