North Country Trail Half 2011

Race highlights:

• “I don’t see my name on the bib number sheet”
• “Which way do we go?”
• “Pick up your damn feet, Jess! (x2)”
• “I could watch you run all day”

 “I don’t see my name on the bib number sheet”

It’s the end of August, which means this weekend was the North Country Trail Run in Manistee National Forest.  This was my second time running this race, which is conveniently located just 5 miles east of my home town.  The weather was beautiful at the race start:  a near-perfect 60 degrees without a cloud in sight.  Clint dropped me off at the trail head to get my goodie bag and bib number while he found a place to park.  The marathon (26.2 miles on a trail?  No thanks) started as we pulled up.  I went up to the registration area and scanned the half-marathon list for my bib number.  My name wasn’t there.

This was strange, because 1) I’ve been excited about this race since last year, and 2) I bought a plane ticket for the weekend.  There must’ve been a mix-up with registration.  The registration folks were awesome.  They had me wait a minute while they got the ultra race (50 miles on a trail?  WTF people?!?!) started.  I came back in to find another woman dealing with her missing name.  Whew!  I wasn’t the only one.  Unfortunately this woman was a bizzo about it.  I sat to the side and watched the computer guy calmly get her information, and the goodie bag lady (Sheila) put together her t-shirt, hat, gels, and pins, all while this gal sighed and complained about having given all this information “months ago”.  Maybe it’s because I’ve been in the race-directing seat before and I know how crazy things can get, but I wasn’t frustrated or mad at the race folks.  She, on the other hand, let them know how disappointed she was.  I know race directors tend to measure their success based on how many people they get to do their event, but I wouldn’t be sad about losing people like that.  I’ll take a small “quality” group of friendly, laid-back runner folk over a large “quantity” of frustrated, entitled crabby-pants any day.

The registration team seemed to be pretty relieved when I came up with a smile.  They got me all my stuff (a sweet hat, drawstring bag, extra gels, meal tickets, and a unisex small shirt, which I was later able to exchange for a women’s medium – score!) and I had a new bib number assigned.  I was ready to go in minutes, no swearing necessary.

“Which way do we go?”

The race started out GREAT!  I couldn’t remember my time exactly from last year, but I thought 1:50 was a good goal.  I just went with the flow for the first few miles.  We separated out pretty quickly and I was in a small group with another couple gals.  We all shifted positions based on how we felt up and down the hills.  I’m not sure what pace we were going, but it felt smooth.  I definitely noticed that I was able to crank up the hills pretty well.  I’ve done a lot more strength training this summer and I think it paid off.  We were told the course was better marked this year with red flags for marathon/ultra, and yellow flags for the half.  Last year they only marked intersections, which was fine if you were on the right track, but was a little scary when you had long stretches without intersections or you missed a turn and came to an unmarked intersection.  I appreciated the consistent yellow reminders that I was on the right track.  We got to around 5.5 miles and there weren’t a lot of flags.  It was ok though, because we could see people ahead.  Then there was a sign pointing us left and up (“REQUIRED” it said above the arrow).  We looked left and everyone came to a halt before beginning our walking ascent.  I don’t know the exact elevation change, but it was ridiculously steep.  Everyone walked it.  At the top was the fire tower (hence the height) and an aid station.  I had my Nathan belt and didn’t need to stop.  The workers told us to go back down. What?  Yeah, back down the way you came.  This was the one major design flaw in this course.  We kind of shuffled back down the narrow track while others walked up and we told them it wasn’t really worth the effort of getting to the top.

We got back to running again, only to see a small group of runners congregating ahead.  They were stopped at an intersection.  This was not just any intersection.  We had five options and there were no yellow flags to influence our decision.  Someone pulled out the mini-map they gave us.  It showed an outline of the course, with no distinguishable pathnames or mile markers.  Zero help.  I don’t know how long we mulled over the decision.  At least two more groups of runners came up on us as we waited.  Finally, everyone started down the path straight ahead.  It turned out to be a good choice, because about a quarter mile in, we began to see flags again.  Apparently the course markers only forgot that small stretch (albeit an unfortunate stretch to forget), because the rest of the race was clearly marked.

“Pick up your damn feet, Jess! (x2)”

I started to feel good after the half-way point.  I’m talking really good.  I felt smooth, my breathing was good, and the hills were – easy? – not as painful as I expected.  The intersection mishap clustered up the top 5 or 6 women.  When we started again two of the ladies bolted out and pretty quickly disappeared.  Another gal and I were a little ways back.  Eventually we came up on girl #2 and passed her on an incline.  We jostled back and forth a bit over the next couple miles and finally I got in front and felt pretty confident that I could stay ahead and maybe get second.  And as quickly as my daydream started, my foot caught on a root and it all came crashing down.  Of course, the fall felt like it took forever, super slow motion style.  I took two deep breaths and pushed myself up.  Just enough time for the gal to say “are you ok?” and me to respond “yup” as she passed by.

I was a little shaken after that and spent the next couple miles doing high knee drills and being timid on the downhills.  I was covered in dirt and my left leg felt a little bruised and scraped.  I smiled to think that I might look a little more badass at the finish.  But mile 11 thought I needed another layer of dirt to complete the look.  By this point I was pretty much on my own, thank goodness, because when I bit it this time, it was literally a face plant.  I felt my cheek get pounded into the dirt and my water belt shifted just enough to smash one of those bottles straight into my right ovary.  It knocked the wind right out of me.  I swore, looked back to check the trail (no one – whew!), got up and reminded myself (out loud) to “PICK UP YOUR DAMN FEET, JESS”.  Luckily I was just two miles from the finish and the last bit was pretty flat and clear of obstacles.   My foot did catch a couple more times, prompting more swears, but I stayed vertical for the rest of the race.

“I could watch you run all day”

The last half mile of the race is awesome.  You hear the crowds near the finish and the trail is flat and grassy, so you can start to pick up the pace.  I rounded the last curve and saw the camera guy.  I smiled, which may be the only race I was able to smile for the camera.  I ran up to the finish and saw 1:55 on the clock.  Considering the stopping and my two major biffs on the trail, I felt pretty good about it.  Clint later told me that some guy said “Whoa looks like she fell”, to which Clint replied: “Yeah, she falls all the time”.  It’s sad but true…

Final stretch of the North Country Trail Half

I was immediately given a metal the size of my head (“largest in MI, 3^rd largest in the U.S.”).  I felt like Flava Flav walking around with that on my neck.  I finished third for women and 10^th overall with a 1:55:58, which was just 1 minute behind the 2^nd gal (I blame the falls for that place loss) and 3 minutes behind 1^st.

Post-race at the North Country Trail Half

While we waited for awards I got my veggie burger, dessert and beer (awesome!).   As I was eating, a guy came up and said “Good race”.  I did the same and he continued: “This may seem a little weird.  I hope you aren’t weirded out.  But I could watch you run all day.  You were so smooth up those hills.”  It was the greatest running complement I’ve had in a long time.  I felt so good and had a huge smile for the rest of the morning.  It’s funny none of my running photos are able to capture my “smoothness”.  I always look slightly handicapped in my race photos.  It’s nice to know at least good in person.  I completed my stockpile of goodies with a bottle of wine for getting first in my age group.  This is such a great race!!

Post note:

After spending a good hour looking through my credit card/checking account and emails, I couldn’t find any proof of registering for the race.  What a huge brain fart!  I immediately emailed the race director and I’m sending them the registration fee.  I can’t believe I bought a plane ticket, but never actually signed up for the race!!  I’m really happy they were so nice about letting me run.  I can’t say enough for how awesome these people are and what a great race it is!!