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FLRC Newsletter - August 2004 |
| Mount Washington Road Race | |
This was my third trip to the Mount Washington Road race. The last time I visited this place was in 2000. I was prepared to make my assault on the Mountain again to prove to myself that this earth is filled with such immense wonders and treasures and that each of us play such a small insignificant role in the grand scheme of things.
Our adventure began back in January when Diane Sherrer and I decided it was time the Finger Lakes Runners Club competed as a team on a road trip; Mount Washington was our chosen destination. Emails went out, members submitted their names to the lottery, and by the hand of god all 12 of us got in (over 50% of entries are turned away every year). We choose the option that if one did not get in than none would go. Hotel accommodations and carpooling were arranged. We were off to the top of the world, at least as far as the North East is concerned.
It was a relaxing and enjoyable ride to New Hampshire. We enjoyed the scenery and even managed to stop at the Maple Leaf factory store in Vermont. We picked up our race numbers and listened to a talk given of the description of the mountain where the average grade is 12%. (Mind you, that is average; much of it is steeper.) Some of the team started to show signs of doubt about why they had come.
We awoke race morning bright and early. Temps were in the low 60s. About 45 minutes before the race it started to rain. Supposably the temperature on top of the Mountain was 50°F. It continued to rain steadily. About half an hour before the run it was announced that the entire course would be run on this day. The race reserves the right to cancel for any reason. Weather conditions had cut the course short back in 2002. We came to run the entire 7.6 miles, so none of us wanted this to happen again this year. The race began to the announcement "Remember there is only one hill," followed by the sound of a cannon.
Off we went down a quarter-mile straightaway that was slightly downhill before the climb begins. I managed to establish a rhythm in my running and breathing. This was something I was familiar with. I had done some hill training and remembered the things that kept me going in 1999 and 2000. The first mile was hard, but doable. I felt strong and eager to run. About 1.25 miles into it I felt a hard strong cramp on my outer left leg between the lower knee and ankle. I ran through the pain until my right lower leg started going numb. It was not easy running with one leg that was cramping like hell and not being able to feel the other. I have experienced both of these before. I knew that if I could just keep moving I'd be able to work out the cramp and hopefully the feeling would come back into the other leg. I took my first walking break in the second mile. This is one of the toughest miles of the race. I went into a walk–run mode. When I ran I ran well, passing others easily. The problem was I was choosing not to run more than I should/could have. Chris Beach passed me somewhere in the second mile. I kept her in sight the rest of the race. We played leapfrog for a few times. I would pass her when we were running. She would pass me when we walked. Those long legs of hers sure proved their worth. The trees were getting smaller and the vegetation changed dramatically. Moss grew on the rocks in a way I've never seen anywhere else. The cramp subsided and the feeling in my leg returned somewhere in the third mile. Once we passed the 4-mile mark the winds began to pick up. I yelled to Chris to look up. At this point we could see runners two miles ahead on a steep switchback. It was an awesome intimidating sight. We worked our way up the Mountain against pelting hail, rain, and strong winds that had measured 45–55 mph. At one point I looked ahead and saw the clouds sweeping across the mountain as fast as smoke escaping from a chimney. Chris said that she thought she could see god. I told her she could and that his presence was definitely here. At the 6-mile mark I yelled to Chris to look down. We where at the point where the runners ahead of us were at when we looked up earlier. What a great reality check that was. It put things in perspective. We were conquering. We were achieving our goal. We were suffering. We were reaching the next level. I tried to enjoy the views when we had them. I took everything in that I could. I noticed the disappearance of the trees, the unusual vegetation, the moss-covered rocks, the gray color all around. The weather sucked. The wind was cold. The pelting hail hurt, but I was grateful for being there and would not have wanted to be anywhere else. Before I new it the 7 mile mark appeared. I dug deep, ran more, felt strong. In the last half mile I passed a man who said "there is always someone who seems to have energy at the end." All I thought was that I am not running any different than I had the prior 5 miles. Run hard when I ran; walk when I needed to. It was foggy, but I still managed to see our car in the lowest parking lot. I still figured I had a half mile to go, but before I knew it I was turning that final corner where that dreaded 33% incline is located. I choose to walk here, but once I turned the next corner I ran. I heard someone call my name only to see Frank Rusby bundled in a parka with a hat and a camera take my picture. I had finished. They rushed us though the finish line in the fog and rain. Don, my husband, found me even before I took the chip of my shoe. I turned to give Chris a hug. (I managed to pass her for the last time in the last half mile.) We both were ecstatic but cold. We waited in the observatory for the others. Don brought Chris, Jim Hoch, and me hot chocolate. The warmth was just what we needed.
We managed to find everyone who was carpooling down the mountain with us. Leaving the observatory was hard. The wind hit us as we exited with such force that I wanted to turn around and go back in. We walked down to the car. When I opened the passenger door, the bumper sticker that Don was given on his way up the mountain flew out the window. In a moment it was gone. We drove down to just before the 5-mile mark. The weather was clearer and the sun was shining here. We got out of the car for a photo op. Karen and I decided to run down from here. We flew down the mountain for about 3.3 miles. I felt fine, but the bottom of my feet did not agree with the downhill sliding. Don had pulled over at a "rest your brakes" pull off where we caught up to him. I could feel serious blisters forming, so we elected to hop in the car for the remaining mile or so.
We met up with the others (Diane Sherrer, Phyllis Radke, Sally and Frank Rusby, P.J. and Jim Miner, Joe and Chris Reynolds, Karen Grover, Jim Hoch, Linda Glowacki, and Fred Miller) at the refreshment area tent where it now was sunny and hot. What a change in weather conditions. We had all agreed that this was a ball-buster, but it was also one that we would all want to do again. As Diane said, "Now that I know what to expect, I will know how to train." Therefore FLRC is planning on tackling Mount Washington in 2005 if we can all get in again. Are you adventurous, brave, or crazy enough to join us?
Pictured (left to right) are: Joe Reynolds, Sally
Rusby, Diane Sherrer, Phyllis Radke,
Christine Reynolds, Lorrie Tily,
P.J. Peterman, Jim Miner, Karen Grover (in front).
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