Iroquois 100 Race Report 2009

Photo from Steve Gallow

IROQUOIS TRAIL 100
SEPTEMBER 19-20, 2009
VIRGIL, NY

The first week of September I was in Los Angeles running portions of the Angeles Crest trail as I inhaled gobs of smoke from the growing Station Fire. The fire was in its infancy but I knew deep down that it would impose itself on the AC100 ( http://www.ac100.com/ ) race scheduled for 2 weeks later. Though I enjoyed my training runs, I knew that figuring out a plan B was in order. Upon my return home to Santa Cruz, I received an email from the AC race directors. Even two weeks out they knew that there was no way the race could go on. Unphased, I jumped on http://www.run100s.com/ to look for a different 100-miler to do.

The Iroquois Trail 100 caught my eye as it was in upstate New York and only two hours from my family whom I hadn’t visited in two years. I contacted the race director Ian Golden and explained my situation. He welcomed my registration and I began my last minute plans to visit family and some old friends.

All I knew of this race was what I read in various race reports from their inaugural year (2008). All in all things were pretty vague – which coupled with my lack of familiarity with the terrain of central New York piqued my curiosity. I was most intrigued by the elevation change stated on the website. 18,000 feet of climbing. It sure seemed like a lot for New York. Most definitely my ignorance to the local geography kept me from respecting the difficulty level until it was too late. But I’ll get to this later.

Three days with family in Rochester then off to Virgil I drove. Folks in upstate New York drive pretty slow compared to the California speeders I was familiar with – and the New York State Troopers all wear Smokey the Bear hats. This strangely intimidated me and I opted to drive my rental Ford Focus as close to the speed limit as possible. It seemed like it took forever to drive two hours. There’s some irony here when comparing this to the actual race.

As I took the exit into Cortland I stopped to consult my map. When finally I oriented myself I turned onto the main drag heading into Virgil and nearly sideswiped the only other car on the road. He honked and gave me the finger as I shook my head, wondering why I didn’t see him coming. I was tired, but not that tired. Not yet. Then I drove to the start of the race – The Gatherings – and imagined how it would look the following morning. I’d have to return later that afternoon to pick up my bib number but decided to find a hotel room in the interim. I returned to the scene of the near-wreck and rented a room at the Days Inn. I was happy they had wireless.

After checking in and relaxing a bit it was finally time to return to The Gatherings for the pre-race briefing. Ian had organized a delicious pasta meal. I sat with some new friends, Scott and Garth, both from New York City, and we awaited the briefing. Ian’s briefing was rather confusing for those of us who had no experience on the Finger Lakes Trails. After Ian the author of Born to Run, Chris McDougall was introduced. Under other circumstances his presentation would have been great – but I’m pretty sure the entire room of folks was as ready as I was to hit the hay for the night. Unfortunately Chris seemed to drone on and on. I had originally planned to have him sign the copy of his book I lugged from California but changed my mind on the spot. As he wrapped I was out of there and with a quickness. I needed sleep.

I dozed off watching Ultimate Fighting and woke up many times with a sore back. I grew worried about this as morning got closer and tried unsuccessfully to will it away. 3:30 am arrived and I was up and ready to go in a flash. The plan was to arrive at the start early enough to get a good parking place near the finish line. I wanted to use my vehicle as a place to stash my aid. My preparation paid off and I got a prime spot. It was a cool morning. After checking in I sat in the comfort of a heated car. A few minutes before the gun I headed towards the slowly growing group of silhouettes at the start line. And just as Ian had promised, the race started on time.

In my first loop I managed to link up with a few local runners. No sooner had they warned me about the gopher holes on the newly mowed downhill off the ski hill (Greek Peak) that I stumbled in one and rolled my left ankle. It didn’t tweak it too badly, or so it seemed, but for the next 94 miles or so I felt it getting tighter and tighter. Enough so that I chose to not change my socks nor my shoes out of fear that relieving the pressure might allow swelling. I was somewhat pleased by this as I really didn’t want to change shoes anyhow – no matter how wet my feet were going to get.

At about the 25 mile mark I hit a low point per usual. The course was taxing me and I started thinking too much about the overall distance. When one’s only consolation is the idea of having “only 75 miles to go” there may be a sudden rush of anxiety that makes the next few miles a bit tough. As a friend in Aptos says, I was forced to “suck it up” and have an out-loud conversation with myself. Actually it was more of a scolding. I ripped myself a new one and got over the hump. Then for the next 10 miles or so some amazing classic punk rock songs filled my head. Namely some angst-filled tunes by Suicidal Tendencies.

As my body began to cooperate I also wondered about the random musical selection my brain was unconsciously making. The punk riffs were replaced with other, more relaxing genres. I realized that each song’s tempo perfectly matched my pace. It goes without saying that when the mental music shifted from Suicidal’s “I’m Not Crazy” to Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All” I’ve probably started to slow down. No matter how much I tried to impose faster songs into my mental radio, all that was coming out was slow jams. When Lionel Ritchie’s “Running With the Night” came on I wanted to turn off the damn thing.

The most challenging aspect of that first 50-miles was the footing. I most certainly was not used to the rooted single tracks, nor was I familiar with having to look up for trail markers. Combining these two conflicting actions together only made me misstep over and over again. My ankle begged for mercy and I grew concerned that the second loop, in the dark, would be tough going. Nonetheless, I managed to complete the first 50-mile loop in about 9:30. I realized the time was respectable but also felt as if it might have been too fast. I was very impressed with the aid along the way and the general support of the spectators. Apparently the access points were very easy to get to – and the crews and volunteers made sure we each arrived at the stations with a fanfare.

The second go of the Greek Peak loop was much more enjoyable than the morning loop in the dark. I managed to negotiate the loop without stepping into any holes. It was also during this loop that I finally met up with a runner who’d been trading places with me all day long - Chris Luberecki from Tahoe City, California. I’d seen his name on the runner’s roster and even did a pre-race search on http://www.zinsli.com/ to compare our finish times. He and I ran races at similar paces so it was relieving to see that we had done the first 50 within minutes of each other.

Upon my arrival at mile 57, Ian connected me with my pacer who was then standing grill-side learning how to cook quesadillas. We introduced ourselves and since I didn’t feel in need of a pacer at that time, nor was it dark yet, I told him to continue with his cooking and meet up with me at the Pipeline aid station nearly 10 miles away. I was happy to knock out this section while there was still ample sunlight. I also had decided to put on my glasses and realized that maybe the footing problem I’d been having was more of a vision problem! Suddenly the stretch seemed easier and I kept a pretty solid clip until the Pipeline aid station when I picked up my pacer.

At Pipeline I quickly learned that my pacer had never run more than 26.2 miles (and on road no less). Plus, he’d never paced anyone and hadn’t the foggiest idea what his role was. Fortunately I was coherent from this point until the race’s finish. Most certainly I learned the hard way about the risk that comes with being assigned a pacer, sight-unseen.

My pacer talked non-stop even after I explained that at this point in the race I’m usually not too chatty. He just said he’d fill the empty space with noise and that’s exactly what he did. His banter made it difficult to focus as I was compelled to remain engaged with him in conversation. I didn’t want to be rude. But eventually it was too much to deal with and I contemplated asking him to drop at the next aid. However, I knew that he knew the trails and I was worried about missing a marker without him in the lead. In hindsight I’d have probably been fine – but under the gun I felt a sense of relief with a local leading the way. I could tell he was frustrated by my slowly declining pace and soon felt a strange sense of guilt for “dragging” him along with me. Quickly I got over this and maintained the best pace I could – a.k.a. “very slow”.

At some point the clock struck midnight. And since September 20th was my pacer’s birthday I wished him a good one and thanked him for sharing part of it with me.

The sky was so clear and the stars seemed frighteningly close. Each time I looked up I felt dizzy and overwhelmed. I tried to keep my eyes from glancing up as I feared I’d be pushed over by the view.

My 11 minute miles quickly turned to 13 and soon to brisk 15 minute walks per mile. The last 20 miles of the race were all walked miles and I found myself growing more and more worried about my time goal. Originally I had wanted to break 22 hours, but soon after the sun went down I altered these plans and figured sub-24 would be more realistic. As I was walking I became concerned about this and expressed my concerns to my pacer. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ll make the cutoff,” was his response. Talk about a buzz kill! He also then went on to ask me what a pacer should do. I didn’t really feel like going into it at mile 85 but I did anyhow to kill time. It really didn’t make a difference though. I only had finishing on my mind.

I have to send three cheers the folks at the Daisy Hollow Road aid station as they fed me perogies (spelling?) for the first time in my life. Though I was craving Dunkin Donuts I settled for this pasta potato concoction. Absolutely delicious! Thanks Daisy Hollow!

Had my wheels still been turning from this point I just may have hit my original time goal. But the best I could do was a brisk walk at best. The last 15 miles took me nearly 5 hours. Ugh. Yes, it was as horrendous as it sounds.

The final 2-mile hill down to Tone Road was a test of fortitude. Knowing that the finish was just ahead put a smile on my face but certainly didn’t speed things up. My finish made it look like I still had something left in the tank but I really didn’t. As I crossed the line I saw Ian and a small group of amazing volunteers cheering me in. As I crossed the finish line I announced, “Now THAT was a character builder!” I shook Ian’s hand, thanked him for a kick-ass race, and within seconds I was shivering uncontrollably and had to escape to the warmth of my rental Ford Focus. My pacer needed a ride to his car so I drove him – then fought sleep for the next 20 minutes as I drove back to my hotel for a shower.

Back at the Days Inn I defiled the towels by wiping off my legs and made the decision to abandon my funky shoes in this New York motel. I took a 90-minute nap and woke up to shower and pack. Slowly. En route back to the start line, I stopped at Dunkin Donuts and grabbed a dozen assorted, eating three within the next 5 minutes. Back at The Gatherings I watched a few more folks come in before seeing my parents pull into the parking lot. We ate breakfast together then went to the awards ceremony. Apparently too many runners finished sub-24 since Ian ran out of buckles!

All in all my experience at the Iroquois Trail 100 was a good one. This course is much more difficult than I expected and I encourage any future participants to respect the surprisingly difficult terrain. I’m glad it was a suffer-fest because it forced me to challenge my limits. Such challenges make me a better runner, and a better person. I appreciate the lesson in self-improvement, Ian!

Next time I do this I’ll go sub-21.

See you all in a few years. Thanks Ian for putting on a great race. And thanks to my pacer for dealing with my sleep-deprived attitude. Maybe someday we’ll see those belt buckles.

Tom Griffen, Aptos, CA, 23:15