On March 3rd, 2007 Jane and I finally ran the Seneca Creek Greenway Ultra-Marathon we had been preparing for. We opted to do the marathon trail 
distance of 28 miles rather than the full 50K distance, which was a wise choice. The race turned out to be a far greater challenge than we had expected and we were tested to the maximum of our abilities by the horrendously icy and muddy conditions of the course. But, we both won the day completing the race with heads held high. I won't recap the entire race--the memories, although fun to privately relive, are still painful. Instead, I'll borrow a few qoutes from other hard-core ultra-runners as there seemed to be a collective need to share these common stories of misery with each other in the days following this race.
distance of 28 miles rather than the full 50K distance, which was a wise choice. The race turned out to be a far greater challenge than we had expected and we were tested to the maximum of our abilities by the horrendously icy and muddy conditions of the course. But, we both won the day completing the race with heads held high. I won't recap the entire race--the memories, although fun to privately relive, are still painful. Instead, I'll borrow a few qoutes from other hard-core ultra-runners as there seemed to be a collective need to share these common stories of misery with each other in the days following this race. THE BEGINNING:
"There were plenty of runners on-hand, milling around on this pretty, sunny morning. We received a plethora of instructions before the race started and everything was rather low-key... I have run plenty of laid-back races before but when the instructions end like this: "So, be careful and have fun. *2 second pause*. All right, get going", I knew I was in for a different race."
"Rain a few days before and the nighttime freezes ensure long stretches of path covered in a thick, smooth glaze. As the race leaves the road at the start and enters the trail in Damascus Regional Park, I see where here and there a little sun finds its way to the path. In these places, week-old footsteps in the snow h
ave become packed down, re-frozen slush, slick and craggy as a D.C. lobbyist."
ave become packed down, re-frozen slush, slick and craggy as a D.C. lobbyist.""...the melted ice and snow had settled in to form the most slippery surface I had ever run on. "
Early in the race we crossed a sizable stream flowing with frigid water that completely numbed our feet by the time we reached the opposite bank. Man! I remember my feet hurt for the next hundred yards after wading the creek. TKH
"A runner in front of me slides down the slick side hill on his side towards Seneca Creek. Just before going airborne over the embankment and into the drink, he grabs a small tree at the edge and hangs on. I hear later that another runner misses the little tree here and takes the plunge. Most slide down on their butts, a few inches at a time."
THE MIDDLE:
"as the rest of the race would show, if you could jump off the trail to run around mud, ice, or shin-deep water, you would. "
"as the rest of the race would show, if you could jump off the trail to run around mud, ice, or shin-deep water, you would. "
"Every step was an adventure and if I was not sliding uncontrollably on my ass....I was doing my best to make sure my shoes did not get sucked in by the quicksand ice-mud."
Compared to the ankle-deep slick mud the ice was merely a mild nusaince. TKH
"Then they appear. The signs. Excuse me, the stupid signs, as the last of many to come self-admits. Tofu. A non-MCRRC runner near me asks “what the hell is that?”, pointing to a small sign stuck in the mud advertising “Tofu to come – mmm”. I explain that I do not really know, but I suspect that a bored race volunteer with a clinically abnorm
al sense of humor is advertising the goodies to come at the Sugarland Aid station. This station is MILES away still and soon we are on another sign advertising the fruit of the bean curd. Tofu torture."
al sense of humor is advertising the goodies to come at the Sugarland Aid station. This station is MILES away still and soon we are on another sign advertising the fruit of the bean curd. Tofu torture."
"Even after running through streams and splashing water and mud up on me, let alone falling down, they (this runners legs) were still cov
ered in rivulets of blood from the wounds I had sustained so far. "
ered in rivulets of blood from the wounds I had sustained so far. "
"As the last person finished in 8:25 minutes or 16 minutes and 17 seconds per mile this guy gets an unbelievably "waytogo" from me. That type of strength takes a set of stones I do not have in order to be out there that long and still finish."
"While there was no t-shirt (who cares), and no medals......a small medal would have been nice. The scars and cuts on my legs are nice proof of the effort I put forth but.....I would like a little more to commemorate my time. Just a little something that I will be able to look back upon and shake my head at what was one of the hardest races I have ever done."
"I regard running this “race” with a weird mixture of dissatisfaction, ......yet with an odd sense of pride at having finished."
"On the long trudge back to my car, I wonder if this race, flawlessly organized and supported as it was, should have been held today under these trail conditions. Now, it is well known that a race day forecast of a hundred-year flood, golf-ball-sized hailstones, and an impending asteroid collision would not deter trail runners from starting any trail race and, most likely, not from finishing it. Were these events to actually occur, these runners would just say “the course was tough, dude”. But this ice, this was crazy."
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