Just getting to the start proved as challenging as some marathons I've run. The night before the race it began snowing and by daybreak 2 inches were on the ground.
Runners were to meet at a hotel to be bused 26 miles out, but upon arriving at the hotel I learned the bus drivers were concerned the roads were icing over and that they wouldn't take legal responsibility for carrying runners to the start. Faced with a nightmare scenario the race director made a tough call... to tell participants that they would be responsible for driving to the start/finish line via a ice covered single lane dirt road at their own risk. I was driving the cheapest micro-sized rental car I could get and I made hard slides more than once. The pucker factor was about as high on the drive as it proved to be during the run.
Did see some beautiful sites along the way...
With white knuckles I finally skidded to a stop near the start line and parked. Jogged to join the racers waiting for the gun and asked a woman beside me if she had run it before. She said yes but that she only made it 6 miles before she dropped out. Looking amazingly fit, I asked her, "WHY???" and her response sent cold chills down my already cold spine. "Because I broke my arm.", she replied. She explained she tried passing another racer, hit a root, and fell with her arm landing right on a rock causing a compound fracture. "Uh oh..." my mind silently said as I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
What I got myself into was more of an adventure hike than a run. The trail was truly only about 1' wide -- so narrow that if a runner decided to walk, everyone behind them had to walk too or risk stepping out of the trail into 6" deep white snow without knowing if hidden roots/rocks awaited them. Within minutes of the start I had a runner trying to pass another runner slide into me feet first, jamming their trail shoe tread into my ankle. Held my breath not from the pain but the fear I might have made a trip all the way to Indiana to get knocked out of the race and have to revisit the state. Luckily, no damage done.
Kept some stats on the race and here they are...
* Wrist sized roots and softball sized rocks lining the trail - kagillion
* Creek crossings – 21
* Steep hills – 18 (9 going out / the other side of the 9 returning)
* Deep mud holes – 4
* Steeply sloped muddy trail sections requiring rope holds – 2
* The number of which I’m most proud – 0 - the number of times I fell. Being tall with a high center of gravity, I had some mighty close calls but made it through unscathed.
* Number of times I twisted my ankles/nearly fell/actually yelled out “OW!” – at least 20
* Number of times I found the course so beautiful I thanked God for allowing me to run it – countless
The above stats shared, the course reminded me of how an elite Kenyan described another race I ran -- the hilly Mountain Home for Kenya marathon in Arkansas -- “It brought about many moments of elation and deflation”. The race very much reminded me of riding roller-coasters, as each time we crawled uphill I thought, “When will we EVER reach the top?” only to be replaced with a sudden, “WHEE!” after cresting the hill. It was truly a crazy experience to go from 17 minute crawling pace to 8 minute running speed over and over again, but that is EXACTLY how this race was run.
The report wouldn't be complete without sharing pictures of the snowy course. This Floridian hadn't seen significant snow in 8 years so to run in a pristine untouched snow--covered forest was absolutely magical.
The race turned out to be the slowest to date, but he beauty combined with the fast/fun downhill stretches made for a joyous experience... one I certainly won't forget anytime soon!


