Joe's Running Blog

9/28/25: Vermont 50K

Though I’ve run thousands of miles over the past few years, and running is now at least 50% of my personality* I am still, advertantly and inadvertantly, learning about what kind of runner I want to be.

(* ed. note: seems low.)

Early on in this project I managed to surround myself with a lot of endurance/ultra runners. What started as “ha ha! I’m never doing that!” eventually turned into “maybe I should try it once.” Which, in most cases, has turned into “maybe I should give it another shot.”

Such was the case with the marathon, in which a poor experience with weather in my first try led me to try another go-round under what I expected to be more favorable circumstances. The second marathon went better, but only just.

In between marathons, I ran a 50K race. (Technically that was my second 50K, because I had managed 33 miles in the Race for DFL backyard ultra back in 2021.) The Pineland 50K was plagued with the same issues as my first marathon, namely unexpected race-day heat and sun exposure. To boot, I strained my knee playing baseball just a week before. So, as was the case when I finished my first marathon, I decided that I didn’t want that to be my only 50K race finish.

I knew I wanted to sign up for a fall race in hopes of having cooler weather and minimizing cramping issues. (I guess I forgot my experience in both Bolton Valley races, which were in October.) Friends of mine had reported positive experieces in previous years with the Vermont 50, which is held the last weekend in September. I started thinking about this in the spring, but it wasn’t until July, high from the experience of volunteering for the Vermont 100 race, that I went ahead and registered.

That only gave me ten weeks to train, but I already had a pretty solid base, so it felt like plenty of time. And indeed, I feel like I executed a pretty solid training plan. I got through the whole thing uninjured and feeling good. The only thing not under my control was the weather.

A week before the race, the forecast called for 73 degrees and cloudy skies. A little warm, but hopefully manageable with a slower pace and proper hydration and elecotrolyte intake. As the day got closer, the forecast changed. 76 and some afternoon sunshine. By the day before, the weather was predicted to be upper 70’s and full sunshine. You know, just like Pineland.

My friends assured me that there isn’t a lot of direct sun exposure on the course, and also the October sun is lower in the sky and less intense than the late May sun. Both true, but still I was getting nervous. I made an attempt to up my hydration in the days before the race, and planned for a variety of remedies: I carried Gu gels and Untapped MapleAid (as was also provided at the aid stations), I planned to take advantage of salted potatoes, potato chips, and dill pickles at the breaks, and I had Katie carry Magesium tablets for me at the crewed aid stations. I wanted to do all I could to defeat my nemesis.

The race was on Sunday. On Saturday we went to Ascutney Outdoors in Brownsville for bib pickup. This is a large race, with about 250 runners but also 750 mountain bikers, so the pre-race energy was high, with a lot of people hanging out and enjoying the scene. Katie had booked a room at the All Hallows Inn in Windsor, a charming Halloween themed B&B with incredibly gracious hosts. The few decent restaurants in town were slammed with business, so we got some pasta for takeout from Windsor Station and ate at the inn.

Because the inn was only a 15-minute drive away, we didn’t have to get up super early to make it on time for the 50K start. The 50 mile runners started at 6:30, and the mountain bikers in waves in the half hour before that, but I didn’t need to be there until 7:30 for the 8:00 start of my wave.

The weather at the start was ideal, with clear skies and upper 50s temps. But the clear skies meant things would warm up fairly quickly. I saw my former neighbor Sal at the start line, but nobody else I recognized. Sal is a faster runner than I, and I didn’t expect to see much of him after we got going. We started on pavement on the Ascutney Mountain access road, and turned onto the main highway past the mountain for a short stretch before turning onto a gravel road. I had studied the elevation charts and knew the stretch to the first aid station had a lot of uphill, but the first mile was mostly downhill and then flat.

The course then took us up a fairly steep hill, where the road dead-ended at a farm, and the course continued on a grassy farm road. The early morning scenery was gorgeous. After a bit we emerged on another gravel road for more climbing. There were a few rollers before we arrived at the first aid station at 3.7 miles, on Coon Club Road.

In helping Katie with her planning for meeting me at crew stations, I had sketched out my expected timing for each segment. Basically I was thinking 14 minute miles if mostly uphill, and 12 minute miles if neutral or downhill. For this first section I had rounded 3.7 miles to 4 and rounded 14 minutes per mile to 15, so I was expecting it to take an hour. In reality there was much less climbing than I expected and I arrived 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

Sal was just exiting the aid station as I arrived. Sal had been ditched by his friend Tom when he stopped to use the port-a-potty. I lingered a bit at the first station to make sure I took in some calories and sodium. There was an immediate climb coming out of the aid station on a single track trail through the woods. Traffic was slow, and I managed to catch up to the group that Sal was in. Traffic was still slow on the downhill, and I ended up passing a few people, including Sal. Sal then made his way up to me, and we ran together through the woods and then on to the second aid station, Ralphs, at 6.9 miles.

My friend Matt was working Ralph’s, and we chatted a bit as I indulged in some fig bars, PBJ, and potato chips. Sal and I then took off. I was still 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

The next section was all dirt road. Up to this point, the 50K runners were on their own. All other race participants had started at least an hour and a half before us, and their additional miles were all in the first half of the race. Cyclists started to filter in to the mix on the way to Margaritaville. As I mentioned above, Sal runs faster than I do, and I was going a little higher pace than I would have on my own, but the second half of this stretch was a pretty decent climb, so we walked a fair amount.

I was still 15 minutes ahead at Margaritaville, and I had more PBJ and fig bars, and also some Coca-Cola. I had been taking Gu gels every 40-45 minutes, and hydrating with MapleAid, but then trying to get the bulk of my carbs and calories through aid station food.

Sal and I stuck together through the next section, which was a short 2.5 miles to the Greenall’s aid station on Silver Hill. The cyclists again parted ways at Margaritaville. We headed back into the single track, and about halfway through the cyclists came back in, and would be sharing the course for the rest of the way.

Greenall’s was the first of two crewed aid stations, and Katie was there to meet me. She had my sunglasses and a change of shoes if I needed them. I arrived shortly before three hours, about 20 minutes ahead of schedule. I got some more food, restocked gels, and replenished my water. Sal didn’t have any crew help, so he took off while I was still checking in with Katie. After a few minutes I was off again.

At this point we were 13 miles in, a good half marathon, and I was feeling pretty good, though I could definitely feel the temperatures. But, with 20 miles to go, the race was really just starting.

The next section was the longest between aid stations: 7.7 miles along winding single track, up a big hill and then back down. It wasn’t super technical, but there were some rooty and rocky bits, and not any of it was flat – even on the ridgelines the trail was off camber enough that everything was a crooked footfall. It was brutal. It was here that I started swapping back and forth with a guy in a white shirt. I would pass him going up, but then he would catch me on the flats and downhills. This went on for awhile.

And by now we were stepping aside every few minutes to let a cyclist through. At one point White Shirt Guy and I let a biker through, but then he went around a corner and wiped out. He was fine, but it took a few minutes for him to dust off and catch us again.

Somewhere along the way I passed two other guys who were moving slow enough that I was surprised they were still ahead of me. One looked sort of like my friend Manny, and the other was an old guy with long gray hair and a long gray beard. I try not to get too cocky about people like that, because they usually have a ton more experience than me. But I figured I should be ahead of them.

White shirt guy got a fair bit in front of me as I trudged along. Early in the race I had heard rumors of an unofficial aid station serving up beer, and sure enough, a little past mile 20 was a cooler full of icy PBRs. Tempted though I was, there were still 13 miles to go and it didn’t seem like a great idea.

Shortly thereafter I was surprised to see Sal ahead of me. He was walking gingerly on an uphill jeep road after we had mercifully finished with the single track. Unfortunately for him, he had twisted his ankle when he stepped in a hole while making space for a cyclist. His ankle was swollen, and he was thinking he probably ought to drop out at the next aid station.

We walked together, and soon approached two younger guys who had passed me earlier, but now one of them was struggling a bit. I said “half mile to the next aid station,” and one of them said “how confident of that are you?” I was quite confident, and it turned out to be quite a pick-me-up for the struggling guy to know there would be a place for rejuvenation shortly.

The Fallon’s aid station, at mile 21.2, was where you really see the variety of experience people have at these races. The previous section had been brutal, much more difficult than I expected – it took me half an hour longer than I had estimated – and I can see where people may have underestimated the provisions they would need to complete it. White Shirt Guy arrived and hung out for a while, while Fake Manny and Hippie Runner made short work of it. The rough footing had brought pain to my feet, which is sadly another common problem, and I lingered for quite a while to make sure I had everything I need.

The next stretch took us down more jeep track to a gravel road. By now the faster 50 mile runners were passing, including my friend Dylan, who is one of the top female ultrarunners in Vermont. This was a fairly cushy section, but I was no longer able to move particularly fast. It was 3.5 miles to the Stone’s aid station, and I was now 40 minutes behind my estimates.

I should say something about my estimates. When I first signed up for the race and studied the maps on Strava, I figured it would take me 8 1/2 hours to finish. When sketching things out the week before, however, I got that down to 7:30, then 7:20, somehow forgetting that I would likely be in pain at some point.

I took time trying everything I could to rally at the aid station: water, Gatorade, fig bars, orange slices, pickles. Anything to hopefully stave off cramping and keep myself fueled. The younger guys from before showed up before I left, and again expressed gratitude about the morale boost miles earlier. I joked with them that the good news was that my “crew” would be at the next aid station (less than three miles from the finish), and I could drop and get a ride if needed. The non-struggling one of them said, “dude, you are not dropping at the next station. I will carry you if I have to!”

Leaving Stones we headed across a field, then into some single track, then back out into another field with some switchbacks. This was the most exposed portion of the course, and after we went back into the woods cramps were starting to set in. Somewhere in the woods I received a text from my friend Lauren, who ran this race a couple of times in the late teens.

“How was it?!”

“5 miles to go. I hate this.”
“Too hot”

“Relatable”
“I promise you’ll feel great when you’re done!”

She gave me some tips about what was still to come and assured me I could do this. I promised to check in at the end.

I texted Katie a revised ETA of 3:45 for the final aid station, an hour later than original estimate, and said I would need magnesium for the cramping. Katie, of course, didn’t receive these texts, because she was in a dead zone for her cell phone. But she met some folks she knew while waiting at Johnson’s, and was aware that people in general were moving slower than usual on this day.

Fortunately this section was almost completely downhill. Unfortunately I was doing 16 minute miles and not 12 minute miles, but I was moving forward. After coming out of the woods there was a nice gravel road, then a short stretch on pavement before turning on to Johnson Road, where the final aid station – and Katie – awaited.

I will admit that the last aid station was a real struggle. I was sore, physically tired, and mentally tired. I had magnesium pills and pickles and electrolytes, anything in hopes of warding off the cramps, which were severely impacting my morale. Katie provided constant support and pep talks. Even though I had only a couple of miles to go, I topped off my water bladder. I was hoping to leave nothing to chance.

Though the distance to the finish was relatively short, it still felt daunting. I wasn’t about to drop at this point, but I also didn’t have a great desire to continue. I spent about 15 minutes in the aid station. Fake Manny and Old Hippie Guy came and went. The two young guys arrived. By the time the walking guy showed up, I knew I had to get going.

The final section started along the edge of the farm field before leading us into the woods and some more windy uphill doule track. It was slow, sore going, and more people were passing me. The cramps persisted, particularly any time I got some speed on a downhill. We passed by a (nearly dry) waterfall and climbed again. I caught up to Fake Manny and the Hippie Guy on the hill. Hippie guy said he did well on the roads, but struggled with the trails. But he seemed like he was doing okay overall.

The route took us across the back of the Johnson Farm field and back into the woods. were a couple of motivational signs, and the trail was named “Last Mile.” This was a misnomer, as quite a bit later was a sign saying the finish was one mile away.

Finally we popped out on to the ski trails, and a series of long curves down the mountain. My friend Eli, who I met several years ago at the Race for DFL, was taking photos of people racing to the end. Mercifully, the finish line came just moments later. It ended up taking me 9:05 to complete the course, only about half an hour longer than what I first thought, but it felt much longer after I had convinced myself that 7-something was possible.

After the race the cramps came back and settled in for awhile. I laid down and iced my legs, tried water and electrolyte everything, and even had Katie massage. They would subside, but come roaring back as soon as I tried to change position (or, god forbid, take off my shoes!). It was the better part of an hour before I could limp back to the car. Luckily Katie had found a spot very close to the finish line!

So what did I learn about what kind of runner I want to be? Honestly, after this race I find myself more interested in the half marathon/25K races. This is still a challenging distance, but typically I don’t spend hours in pain as a result. I’ve done two marathons, and I’ve done two 50Ks, and really the second time for each was no better than the first. Do I really need to keep doing them in hopes one will finally feel good? I’m not so sure.

But maybe I need to do a third one of each, just to see.

9/18/25: Racing as Training

Hello again, dear readers!

In the months since our last checkin, I decided to finally register for my second 50K race. My first was at Pineland, in New Gloucester Maine, in 2023. That didn’t go as well as I had hoped, and I vowed at the time that it would not be my only 50K experience.

Last year I decided to avenge my first marathon experience at the Maine Coast Marathon in Wells, Maine. That also could have gone better. I decided then that, if I was going to do another long race, I would run it in the fall. This was both so I could better acclimate to potential hot weather, and so training wouldn’t overlap with ski season.

I had been keeping an eye on the Vermont 50K, part of an event that also includes a 50 mile run and a 50 mile mountain bike ride. I hemmed and hawed about it, but after Katie and I volunteered for the Vermont 100 in July, I decided to pull the trigger. This is akin to shopping online after drinking: you might not be in the correct state of mind for decision making. But I did it anyway.

This gave me ten weeks to train for the race. On the surface that’s not a lot, but I was already averaging approximately 30 miles per week, so I had a pretty good base. I felt confident that I could make it work. But I knew I needed to start ramping up some long runs.

I also knew, or rather I read and accepted as truth, that running hills would be key in race prep. In particular, running hard extended downhills as a way to build up quad strenghth. Just a week earlier I had run the Bear Swamp Race, which features about three miles of downhill, and my quads were in pain for several days after. Clearly there was work to be done.

I started to build the volume. and pound some hills Two weeks after signing up, I returned to Bear Swamp to do a double loop. This was an 11.5 mile run in the heat, but I ended up feeling pretty good on the second time around, which was a good sign.

The next weekend we signed up for Lover’s Lane. This started out as a six hour event, running as many 1.8 mile loops as possible in that time. Now it’s expanded to also include a 12-hour option.

Given where I was in training, I decided to stick to the six hour version. We ran this in 2022 and I did 15 laps, or approximately 27 miles. That seemed a little unwise for where I was in training, so I set a goal of 20 miles. This was a big stretch, but I figured the relaxed format and short loops would allow me to take it easy.

I did make it 20 miles, but the heat of the day and the big increase in volume took its toll. My feet and hips were very sore by the end. However we still had an hour, so Katie and I walked one more lap together to get to 22 miles. It was slow going. Afterwards my legs got cramps, as they are known to do, but Dr. Rob was there (not a real doctor) and set me up with cold compresses and magnesium pills. That helped. But I will admit that I was taken aback, knowing that the real race is going to be half again as long.

The next two weekends were spent having fun. First it was my 60th birthday party with my family back in Maine, then it was Katie’s cousins wedding in Montreal. We managed to get some runs in, at Shepard’s Farm in Norway, Maine and at Mount Royal in Montreal. This did have the benefit in setting up a three week cycle (up-up-down) leading up to the race.

The following weekend was the Northfield 5K. My friend Matt, who lives in Northfield, has occasionally run from his home to run races in Montpelier, and that sounded to me like an excellent training plan. It’s about 12 miles from my house to downtown Northfield, with a giant hill in between. So I headed out 2.5 hours before I needed to check in for the race, and enjoyed a spectacular early morning run. The race itself was fine. After 12+ miles of warmup I wasn’t going to run a fast 5K, but I set a goal of under 27 minutes, and I did that with some time to spare, so I got some bonus speed work in. Afterwards I ran a little cooldown to get to 17 for the day.

The view from Hill Street on the way to Northfield

The plan calls for following up a long run with half the mileage the next day. We went back to Maine to visit my dad, who is 94 and not in the best health, so it was back to Shepard’s Farm for a triple circuit of the Witt Swamp, approximately 8.5 miles for the day.

The World’s Best Boardwalk, Witt Swamp, Norway Maine.

The next weekend was the Groton Forest Race. At one time earlier this year I had contemplated running just the 10K, but now that I had an ultra to train for I signed up for the 25K. Three mountains and lots of vertical. But that’s only 15 miles and I needed 20 for the day, so I arrived early to run the extra five.

The race itself went pretty well. I was going slow, pacing as if I was running 50K and not 25K. But the benefits of training were evident, as I felt much stronger than last year despite the added pre-race miles. In fact, according to Strava, I climbed the final hill faster than the two previous times I have done this race. I was feeling pretty beat the next day, but the plan called for ten miles, so I went to Berlin Pond for a double loop that isn’t flat, but doesn’t have the killer hills found elsewhere nearby.

Now we are in taper mode. I scaled back last weekend, but still did 14 miles in a preview of the November 1 CircumVictory trail race and mountain bike race that Katie and I signed up for. That was followed by a mostly-flat 9 miles on Sunday. This upcoming weekend will be ten and five, then cruising into race day.

50K still seems very daunting, as it’s an additional three hours of running compared to my longest run in the training cycle. But I am feeling strong heading in, and my only goal between now and race day is to not do anything stupid. Wish me luck!

5/25/25: Vermont City Marathon Relay

For the second year in a row*, I returned to the site of my Very First Marathon^TM to participate as a member of a relay team. This time it was a four-person team put together by my baseball teammate Dan Winters, along with two of his co-workers at the Vermont State University. Dan and I ran into each other at the New Year’s Eve 5K in Montpelier, and a casual conversation about, “hey, a couple of guys are thinking about a relay team” turned into the real thing.

* I did not write a post about the 2024 relay. It was a good race. I casually mentioned at one point that I was looking for a relay partner, and my friend Stephen Brown wrote to say his wife Hannah was also looking for a partner. So we partnered up as Team (Hannah and Joe) Montana. It was a good race, though (cue the theme of 2024) not quite as fast as I was hoping. Perhaps I’ll sprinkle some more details in as we go along here.

I’ve known Dan for a few years, and we’ve run into each other at various 5Ks over that time. Dan enjoys the races – he competed in approximately 25 last year – but I don’t think he had ever run a longer race before. In talking to him, I learned that he’s ready for different challenges in running. This is one of the first steps.

It was the same with the other guys on the team, Jack and Jake. Jack has run some 5Ks as well, often with Dan. Jake, not as much. Dan said Jake is very new into running. “He’s run a couple of 5Ks.” I thought that meant 5K races. Dan meant 5K runs. This was to be Jake’s first-ever race.

And it was going to be twice as long as he’d ever run before. The VCM course is a 13.1 mile loop that is run twice. Each lap has two subloops, approximately 6.3 miles south to Oakledge Park, which returns almost to the start, and approximately 6.8 miles north to Leddy Park and back to the start/finish area. We were each to get one of the subloops.

The plan was for Jake to lead us off and Jack to finish, with me taking the longer of the two middle loops. The north (Leddy Park) loop is longer by about half a mile, so I took leg #2. It would probably be my last choice, because I think the south loop is nicer, and if you’re doing the north loop it’s more fun to cross the finish line.

Alas, I was a guest on this team, and I happily took the second leg. I was also happy for Dan, because I thought he might enjoy the run back along the water.

The race starts at 7:15, and we agreed to meet at the DoubleTree Hotel at 6:30 and take the shuttle to the start. According to a pre-race email, the last shuttle was to leave the hotel at 6:50. We were in the lobby, getting coffee, and handing out bibs, when a shuttle bus left. I looked at my watch and saw the time. It was 6:52.

“I think that’s the last shuttle,” I said.

That kicked off some concern and confusion. “What?” “OK, what are we going to do?” “How do you know that’s the last one?”

“Because I read the email.”

“There was an email?”

“Yes, and you’re supposed to read it because it contains important details.”

Because I was a guest on the team I had been happy to sit back and let others lead the way. But now I realized that I was probably the only person who knew what was going on in this race. I kicked in to take charge mode.

“Okay, the most important thing right now is to get Jake to the starting line. It’s two miles from here to Waterfront Park, the rest of us will have plenty of time to walk down.” Jake’s wife Ava rushed off to get the car. But as she was pulling up, a bonus bus came along. I’m sure this was always scheduled, but the organizers know some idiots are going to miss the last bus, so they give an earlier deadline.

But it really was cutting it close. Many streets were blocked off for the race, so the bus had to go around the long way, and still dropped us off about a quarter of a mile from the start. That gave us time to panic about the missing belt for the shared (chipped timing) bib for the team. “There’s a belt?” “We just had it!” “What does it look like?” “It looks like a belt!” We were making plans. The important part is the bib with the chip. Our active runner could just…carry it? Stick it in his pocket?

Then Dan held up his race package swag, which was a fanny pack. Dangling from the fanny pack strap was another strap. One might say it looked like a belt.

“Is this it?”

It was it. Jack clipped the bib to the belt and handed it to Jake before we arrived at the dropoff. It was about 7:10 when we arrived, and Jake and Ava hustled off to get to the start. As the rest of us were approaching we could hear the announcements. Then before we knew it, the wheelchair racers were flying by, followed shortly by the first runners. Then the crowd. Did Jake make it in time?

We searched the crowd to no avail. After the major pack went by there were a few stragglers. And there was Jake. And he wasn’t even in last place!

After Jake went by we had some time. We wandered down to Main Street, where we could watch runners finishing up the first half of the first loop. I figured we had a least an hour and 15 minutes before Jake would finish. We watched as the leaders came through in what seemed like an unreasonably fast time. The first guy was there in just 32 minutes!

Around 8:00 I decided to take a little warmup run. I ran back to Waterfront Park to drop my bag off at the gear check, then back toward Main Street. When I finished and joined back up with the team, we wandered up the hill to the first exchange spot. As we started to move, the leaders came through again, starting their second lap. “I think we’ve been lapped!” I said.

At the exchange I saw this guy Ron who last year started showing up at a lot of CVR races and who always manages to finish just a little ahead of me. (Though I did finish a little ahead of him at the Paul Mailman 10 Miler in April.) He was there for the fourth leg of his team’s relay. He acknowledged that he was very early. “I’d rather be an hour early than a minute late!” We chatted for a bit as I waited for Jake.

After an hour and 25 minutes, we saw Jake plodding up the hill. The bummer about the first/third leg is that it finishes with a big climb, gaining about 80 feet over the last third of a mile. It’s a bitch, and though Jake looked spent as one would expect for someone who had never run this distance before, he made it all the way up.

After gaining the belt I took off. The finish of the first leg covers only 80% of the hill, so I started also with a climb, though not a super steep one. I felt light on my feet, the best I’ve felt at the start of a race in a long time. As was the case in 2024, the teammate I followed was one of the slower runners in the race, which meant I had very little ground to lose but a lot to gain.

And gain I did. One of my least-favorite parts about running the full marathon in 2022 was the fact that I was constantly being passed by relay team runners. Now the shoe was on the other foot. There weren’t a lot of runners in sight on Main or Church Streets, but by the time I turned the corner on to Cherry Street I was starting to pass people.

That continued as I went up Battery Street/Battery Park and on to North Avenue. I actually had a pre-race fueling plan that I forgot to follow through on, which included eating the half a banana I brought before I started. I remembered now that I wanted to take a gel, so I slowed down at the first aid station so I could have two waters to wash it down. While there I saw my teammate Dan’s son Ryan working at the aid station. “Aren’t you Ryan? I’m on your father’s team!” “Cool!”

This was about a mile and a half in, and the gel was perfectly timed to give me a little more of a boost. I wasn’t carrying water, so I planned to take some water or Gatorade at every aid station.

Luckily the weather was cooperative. Both 2022 and 2024 turned out to be in the 60s with too much sunshine. Today was low 50s and clouds. Perfect for running. In 2024 my passing pace was tempered by having to manage my energy for 13+ miles. This year, I felt like I could push it.

And I felt really strong the whole way. I don’t want to overstate things, as I was running an 8:30 pace, which would not make for my fastest 10K time. But it was the best I felt in quite some time. And passing people made me feel stronger.

I had one last slowdown at my friend Kirsten’s house, as she always has maple syrup shots avaible, so I had one of those and a quick chat. Somewhere on North Avenue I passed the 5:30 pace group, then at the start of the bike path home stretch I passed the 5:00 group. There was one point with about two miles left when I dialed it back a notch, because I felt like I wouldn’t be able to keep that effort for the full length.

I never was passed until the very end, when the first five race leaders raced by near the finish. (We really did get lapped!) I made it to the turn for lap two just before number six got me. In just under an hour I found the team at the exchange and we sent Dan on his way.

Jake, Jack and I went to the post-race party at Waterfront Park. I collected my bag, then we got some food. Jack decided to pregame for his leg with three (3) slices of pizza. Jake didn’t realize we got medals, so he and I grabbed ours and some more swag. After a bit we worked our way back to the Main Street exchange and waited for Dan.

My collection of VCM medals. The shorter distance you run, the smaller the medal you receive.

Dan came in on his leg at an hour and seven minutes, and turned things over to Jack. We headed back to the park, and grabbed some more food. In addition to the complementary food for race participants, there were a number of food trucks on site. I was excited to see Samosaman, which back before I moved here permanently used to have a restaurant in Montpelier. It was perfect post-race food.

I mentioned to Dan that I had seen his son Ryan at the aid station.

“No. Not my son.”

“He looks exactly like your son, said his name was Ryan, and thought it was cool I was on his dad’s team! If that’s not your son, he’s an exact doppleganger!”

Dan called Ryan, but there was no answer. A little while later, he got a call back. After a brief chat he hung up and said, “Ryan is not volunteering at this race.”

“Well, then there’s some kid out on North Ave who is probably thinking, ‘okay, Grampa. Whatever you say!”

All this was happening as we wandered over toward the finish line to wait for Jack. Ava had been tracking the team on the RaceJoy app, and after Jack crossed the timing pad at Leddy Park the app estimated a 4:34 finishing time. Because Jake crossed the starting line four minutes after the gun, that meant Jack was expected before 4:39 on the clock.

We were anxiously watching the countdown when we saw him. Luckily Jack is easy to spot; he’s well over six feet tall, pale skin and bright red hair. He beat 4:39 by about 20 seconds. Our official time was 4:34:34, good for 366th out of 450 3-5 person relay teams.

Team Faster Together: Jack, Joe, Dan, Jake

It turns out that this was one of the most fun races I’ve participated in. It helps that I felt good and ran well, but being part of this particular team was a great deal of fun. My teammates were all so excited to be part of the event, and I had a lot of fun being the wise veteran helping with logistics and doling out advice. Jake, after his first race, was very happy. “When’s the next one?” I told him it’s a slippery slope from here. I hope to see him at many more races in the future!

Why I Decided to Fire My (Virtual) Coach

Image generated by AI. Any resemblance to the author is coincidental.

Last August, I broke my Garmin watch while playing catcher for my “old men” baseball team. In 2019 I bought a Forerunner 35 as my first runner’s watch, one that I selected because it was the simplest model available at the time. I wanted a watch that would record my distance and pace, and capture the GPS data for a map. The 35 recorded all of that, along with heart rate, sleep data, and daily steps. Frankly, given my tendency to dive deeply into numbers, any more would be too much.

Sadly, when the time came to replace my broken watch, the 35 was no longer available. There was no question whether I would buy a new watch – no data would certainly be worse than too much data – but the question was, how much of an upgrade would I go for?

It wasn’t really a difficult question. For one thing, all the watches available gathered more information than the 35. For another thing, anything above the most basic current models costs in the hundreds of dollars. I hadn’t been planning on replacing my watch at all, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pay $500 (or more) to do it.

The most basic Garmin available when I went shopping at REI was the Forerunner 55. As one might infer, the 55 is a step up from the 35, but still without a lot of the bells and whistles of the higher models.

Among the features I like is the ability to record more activity types than the “run, bike, swim, cardio” available on the 35. Another attractive feature is the ability to program workouts, where the watch can tell you, for example, how many minutes to spend at a particular effort level, be it running pace or heart rate. If you diverge from the target, the watch sounds an alarm so you can adjust.

You can program your own workouts, but Garmin also has a built in vitual coach – I call it “Coach G*” – which will suggest workouts to you on a daily basis. I watched on Strava for several months as my friend Jim (who is one of the handful of people who will actually read this) followed Garmin’s automatic coaching and started to see great improvement in his performance.

*I should note here that Garmin Connect has several other coaching plans that are more curated and designed to prepare you for a specific race. I have not used these coaching plans, as I haven’t had a special “target” race for which I would want to peak. I think Jim has used those along with the generic Coach G.

At first I really liked having the coach. It was nice to be able to train via heart rate rather than pace. It was also nice to have someone else make decisions for me.

Coach G started off with shortish base runs, for example 36 minutes at a target 130 heart rate. This was actually quite low effort compared to the typical runs I had been doing for years. I’d get a longer run in usually once per week, and also some recovery runs with a target heart rate of 120.

I soon realized that my heart rate would spike way out of the target range as soon as I was running up a hill, so I ran more on the flat streets in town and less on the hilly park trails. No worries. At the end of each workout my watch would ask for feedback on the workout. How difficult was this? How strong did you feel? I dutifully input when I felt like things were pretty easy and I felt strong, figuring the workouts would increase in intensity.

And they did, to some extent. As I mentioned, Coach assigned me some longer base runs, anywhere from 75-90 minutes, which allowed me to put in some miles. Additionally, the standard base run increased to 42 minutes – sometimes even 45! Coach also started putting in some speed workouts usually once per week, tempo or threshold runs and even the occasional V02 Max intervals.

At this point the only real problem was that I couldn’t see the upcoming workouts in advance. Every night at midnight I’d get the new assignment. This was usually okay, but occasionally I’d get a long run or a speed workout on a day where my work schedule wouldn’t really allow it. During the height of winter, where days are short, some of the speed workouts weren’t going to work after dark where road visibility was minimal. And often if I didn’t do the workout on the prescribed day, it would be gone, with another base run or recovery run suggested for the next day.

This is when I learned how to program the watch myself. If Coach G suggested a speed workout on a day that I couldn’t accommodate, I would program the watch and do it the next day.

These were minor inconveniences. But what really started to bother me was that the workouts really didn’t build in difficulty. Week after week it was day after day of Base 42, Base 42, Base 42. Once per week I’d get a longer run. But even more bothersome was the fact that the speed workouts started to evaporate. January had four, one per week. February had three. March had…one? Not only were we not building, we were actively regressing.

And I felt the regression in my body. I gained a few pounds. I felt slow. And I didn’t feel as strong as I did when I started.

Strava has a feature for paid users that shows your fitness after each workout. Generally, longer runs with higher exertion (heart rate) will increase your fitness. But let me show you the picture.

The peaks are around some big races, like the Maine Coast Marathon in May.

This is a two-year graph. The vertical line shows the date of the Groton Forest Trail Run, which was just a couple of days after I started wearing the new watch. Those who read my recap of that race may remember that I didn’t feel overly fit at the time. However, the fitness reading on that date was 57. In just a couple of short months my fitness level had plummeted to around 30, where it has stayed throughout 2025.

Finally this combination of factors – declining fitness, not enough variety in the prescribed runs, lack of visibility for planning purposes, non-existent speed work – led me to the decision to “fire” the coach. In addition to being less fit than before I started, I found following the plan made my daily runs less enjoyable. Especially now that the weather has improved and the trails are open again, I want to have more control of when and where I run. And I want to build speed again, which can’t be done with no speed work.

I will likely sign up for a fall race for which I set an actual goal. If I do, I will probably give one of the curated coaches a try, as a training plan assigned to a goal seems like a good approach. Until then, though, I am enjoying being free to make my own plans.

September 2024: A Tale of Two Trail Races

I’m going to pinball around 2024 a little bit as I catch up on this blog. I don’t plan to recap everything from 2024, but there are a few races to comment on, including these two very different trail races in September.

The summer of 2024 was peppered with races that were not quite what I was hoping for. It all started with me falling short of some goals with the Maine Coast Marathon at the beginning of May. Rather than using the base conditioning as a jumping-off point for a great race season, it seemed like all of my races were a little slower than the previous year. I wrote that off to being a little lazy in my training, especially in the form of speedwork.

That was all bound to change with the Groton Forest Trail Run the first weekend of September. I didn’t do any training specifically to prepare for the race, but I had run it in 2022 (it was cancelled due to flood damage in 2023) and I knew what to expect: a saucy 15-mile run over three mountain peaks. I hadn’t done any particularly long runs since the half-marathon relay for VCM at the end of May, but I had been doing the trails and the hills all summer. I figured I would be fine.

And for the first half, everything went pretty well. In 2022 I ran the first eight miles with my friend Tara, who unbenownst to us was at the very beginning of a bout with Covid-19, the effects of which slowed her down. This time I was left to my own devices, and I chose to push myself a little bit, particularly on the first climb up Big Deer Mountain.

At the top of Big Deer I met a woman who was taking her time at the peak. I checked in and she was okay. We talked a bit on the way down; she was visiting her sister in Burlington and made a last-minute decision to jump into the race. However she lives in Albania, which is considerably warmer than Vermont. I thought the 60-degree race time temperature was perfect. She was cold.

On the way down I was surprised to see my friend Stephen Brown coming up the hill, as he is a much faster runner than me and I had seen him take off ahead of me at the beginning. Unfortunately he (along with several other runners) had missed a key trail marker and gone at least a mile out of his way before figuring it out. He quickly caught up to us on the way down, then he and the Albanian woman were off again.

I was surprised then to catch back up to Albania, who was walking about a mile before the second aid station. She was still struggling with the cold, and it sounded like she was contemplating dropping. The next aid station was at mile 8, just before the climb up the second mountain, which is Owl’s Head. At this point I was about five minutes ahead of my 2022 race and feeling good.

The Owl’s Head climb is the gentlist of the three mountains on the course. It’s pretty runnable as these things go, but I wasn’t feeling the gas.

Two things happened on this climb. First, a woman passed me on the way up who I recognized from the previous race by the distinctive tattoos on the backs of her legs. I saw this to be a good sign. I remember seeing her on the Owl’s Head climb last time, and then passing her on the way down from Little Deer at the end of the race.

The second thing was there was a guy heading the opposite direction from me who was wearing a bib. Being a veteran of this race, I was aware that this was not the way he should have been going. I asked if he was going the right way, and he said “I think so?” But he soon realized that he was not. He had reached the peak of Owl’s Head and then turned around, thinking this was an out-and-back section like the other two peaks. I convinced him to accompany me on the way back up, and he realized that he had not gone quite far enough at the peak to see the markings for the way down. Once we found the peak, he took off and I was alone again.

(The course markings magaged to be both abundant and lacking for this race, which is a shame for the participants who end up running extra mileage.)

The run down to the next aid station is the tenth mile of the race, and it felt good letting it go a little. I lingered for a moment at the Lanesboro stop, then headed off on the way to the next mountain. I found myself running with a marathoner for a bit, then got ahead of her. The next few miles are fairly gradual up and down, and should be a time to pick up the pace, but I definitely found myself unable to shift up a gear, and by now the bottoms of my feet were incredibly sore.

In the 2022 race I had a strong finish over the last two miles from the Little Deer peak. I was able to run sub-10:00 minute miles and pass the tattoo leg lady. That was not the case this time. Further confouding the finish was the fact that the 2022 course had been shortened, but this year we had to traipse through another hilly section of woods. This added about half a mile to the overall length, just when I wasn’t in the mood for it.

I ended up finishing about ten minutes slower than the previous year, half of which was due to me being slower. I was 24th of 45 finishers so it wasn’t a total disaster. Still, this was a humbling lesson about being ready for the race in front of you.

Two weeks later, on a Friday night, came the second annual Paine Mountain Anchor Challenge, a run up the trails at Paine Mountain in Northfield, where Runderachievers put in some miles during the Covid lockdown in 2020 and 2021. Following the Groton Forest race and a good-not-great Sodom Pond four miler just two days before, expectations were sufficiently lowered for this event. But most of the Northfield crew was there, so I knew it would be fun.

There was no mystery to this challenge. The race starts immediately uphill on a service road and then follows mountain bike trails. It’s 1.7 miles and 850 feet of climbing to the Anchor, which was formerly the top of a ski lift. Then slightly over two miles back downhill.

I didn’t feel super strong on the climb, but was able to keep a steady pace. There was an older guy in front of me wearing the 2023 shirt who I thought I might be able to stick with. I was not. But there was a younger guy who I later learned was someone who almost joined up with Runders a couple years earlier. His name is Will. I made some steady gains on Will on the climb, and finally passed him with the Anchor coming into view.

At the top we touched the Anchor and headed back down. Will wasn’t having it with me ahead of him, and he passed me with long, loping strides as we went back into the woods. The downhill was again largely on the service road, also known as the Red trail. I passed my friend Lia – another Runder – on the steep part still near the peak.

The steepest descent lasted about .6 miles before Red met up with the Yellow trail. Yellow at this juncture is nice flat stretch through some tall evergreens before opening up to Cheney Field. Here Will’s aggressive downhill wasn’t serving him as well, and I passed him again before we got out of the trees.

I felt very strong on the descent. I also passed Lia’s partner Ray. There were two other guys in front of me heading into the field so I set my sights on them. I was able to catch one, but they second guy pulled away. But I was firing on all cylinders – running downhill certainly helped – and was able to sprint my way to the finish.

I finished 25/60 for the race, and second in my age group, which was a huge surprise. This was definitely my strongest race of the year, and a great way to cap the “summer” race season.

Stay tuned to this space as I backtrack through 2024 and ruminate on some lessons learned.

10/20/24: Rome Half Marathon

This one was a win for the algorithm.

Sometime early in 2024, a race ad came across my Facebook feed, as has happened many times in recent years. “Announcing the Roma Half Marathon.”

As readers of this blog are aware, Katie and I love a good destination race. Readers may not know that I love visiting Europe, and have blabbed about my previous trip to Italy frequently to Katie over the years. What better reason to head back than a race?

Admittedly there was a leap of faith involved. At first the website was very sparse. Like, practically no information other than there is going to be a race in Rome on October 20 sparse. “Save the date!” There was no previous edition of this race to bring us some comfort, either.

I monitored the website and eventually more information arose. They promised the race would run past many famous Roman landmarks. When registration finally opened up, it was super cheap: 35 Euros, which was about $40 US. We still weren’t 100% convinced it wasn’t a scam, but at that price it was well worth the risk to entice us into a vacation.

We ended up planning ten days in Italy. We scheduled the trip so the race would be on the first weekend, after which we could play. We started and finished in Rome and in between sandwiched a few days in Florence – just a 90 minute train ride away.

This is a race report and not a vacation recap, but I will state for the record that we did several other runs during our time in Italy, and wow was it fun to see the cities that way. Both Florence and Rome are very walkable, and if you get out early enough very runner-friendly. Nothing better than bombing around for a few miles and treating yourself to a coffee and croissant, or maybe a spritz, afterward.

Running through a random back alley in Rome, not on race day.

We booked our trip, and as the month got closer it became apparent that this was going to be a real race. We also discovered that there is a fair amount of beaurocracy involved in European races, requirements that participants prove who they are and the like. There were papers involved.

At last the week came. We took a red eye from Montreal and arrived Friday morning. On Saturday we made our way down to Eataly, a large modern Italian Market, which hosted the Expo and bib pickup. It was a zoo. What we originally thought was going to be a race of 5,000 – 7,000 people turned out to have approximately 15,000 registrants. The tent was packed!

Sunday morning dawned with partly cloudy skies and cool temperatures. Perfect weather for a run! Our accommodation was in the Monti neighborhood, only one kilometer from the finish line near the Colosseum. The start was on the other side, next to Circus Maximus.

A race this size starts in waves. There were three full waves following the elite runners, who got to go first. We were in the Intimissimi wave, as we had taken advantage of a freebie offer to run in Runderwear – shirt, shorts and socks all provided by the Italian producer of undergarments and other clothing.

Finally we were off. As with Bermuda, we were there to run in the event, not race our fastest race. Along with the huge crowd, there were going to be sights to see. Given that this was only Katie’s second half marathon, we adopted a run/walk strategy for the race: we would run to the first aid station about three miles in, then walk for a minute each mile between there and the final aid station, before running the final three miles.

The course was largely as promised, though it was unavoidable that the monument-to-urban landscape ratio would be pretty low. (However this was all in the old part of the city, so there were plenty of cobblestones and beautiful architecture.) The first major landmark at three miles was the Basilica Papale di San Paolo fuori le Mura (Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls), which is one of four major Papal basilicas in Rome. I’m not Catholic, so I’m not super excited by such things, but it seems like a cool spot.

This basilica is not confined by the walls of Vatican City

The first aid station immediately followed, and we took a break for water and porta potties, then were on our way again. We doubled back past Rome’s pyramid, then up the only significant hill on the course. Soon we were passing along the other side of Circus Maximus before moving along a lovely tree-lined boulevard along the Tiber River. Then we crossed a bridge to the other side of the river, close to the Vatican but not next to it. Soon thereafter we crossed back and took a break to take a few photos, some selfies and a shot of the stream of people ahead of us.

Wave three, which started a few minutes after us, was the biggest, and we were being passed pretty consistently, but obviously we didn’t care that much. However was another couple in Intimissimi gear that stayed close, and we kept our eyes on them. This was our only little shred of competitiveness on the day.

More landmarks followed. We ran through the Piazza del Popolo (the People’s Plaza), which I initially mistakenly identified as the Piazza Navona until we ran through that one later. In between we went through Piazza del Spagna, home of the famous Spanish Steps.

The Spanish Steps were a little after the ten mile mark, but the plan to run the remaining miles was at odds with the reality that Katie’s frequent injury setbacks had taken a toll on her training. This section was a little uphill and required another walk break, and there were a couple more ahead. Still, we were doing well. Other than the pit stop at the first aid station and the little break on the bridge, we had moved forward the full time. We didn’t really have an opportunity to stop for monument selfies along the way, as the crowd of runners was just too thick.

After Piazza Navona, we were on the home stretch. We ran up to the Victor Emmanuel II Monument, which with its giant columns I believe is meant to fit in with the ancient architecture, but which was built in the late 1800s in honor of Victor Emmanuel II, the first king of the unified Italy. I understand many people think it’s an eyesore, but I kind of like it.

Finally the spectacular finishing stretch up the Via del Fiore Imperiale, which was widened by Mussolini for tank parades during the fascist years. That part is unfortunate, but it runs adjacent to the Roman Forum and provides the money shot of runners heading to the Colosseum.

Can you think of a more iconic home stretch?

There was a little left-hand turn and then I was surprised to find us on Via Cavour, very close to our accommodation. (I shouldn’t have been surprised, because we walked past these barricades on our way to the race a few hours earlier.) Then up Via degli Annibaldi to the finish. Here we spotted the other Intimissimi couple. They evidently were not aware that we were racing, but they were incentive enough to get us to sprint (such as it was) past them just before the finish.

Really the only negative to this race was after the finish line. Runners were funneled up a narrow road into a park to pick up medals and snacks. It was another sardine moment that lasted far too long. But ultimately a small price to pay for an incredible experience.

Though not the point, I’d feel remiss if I didn’t post the results here. We finished in 2:24, and were in the 11,200 range out of 13,400 finishers. Definitely okay for a fun run.

10/28/23: Haunted Island 10K

Our trip to Bermuda in January made Katie and I realize that running is a great excuse to travel. Find a fun race in a fun place and go. Ideally also build in some time for being a tourist.

The Haunted Island race idea was slightly inverted. I follow a blog called Uni-Watch, which is dedicated to athletic aesthetics and other esoterica. The post on Halloween 2022 introduced me to Bike Kill, an annual punk bike freak show block party in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

This was something I knew I had to attend, so naturally I looked to see if there was a race we could incorporate to fill out the weekend. I found the Haunted Island 10K put on by NYC Runs. This is on historic Governors Island, just a short ferry ride from Lower Manhattan.

We found a relatively cheap hotel that was just two blocks from the ferry, signed up for the race, and waited several months for late October to arrive.

In the meantime we had to decide on costumes, because this race is held the weekend before Halloween. After much deliberation I settled on an old standby: The Most Interesting Man in the World. I began preparing in earnest in September, by starting to grow a beard. Katie found a cool navy blue jumpsuit, and soon her Rosie the Riveter costume came together.

We took Friday off and drove to New York. I wanted to go for a run on the High Line, a pedestrian walkway above the streets of Manhattan built on a former elevated rail bed. It’s a super cool way to see the cityscape, with lots of gardens and vistas, and even a couple of spots to get a drink.

As it turns out, on a balmy 70-degree Friday evening at sunset, the High Line is very popular. There wasn’t a lot of actual running. But it was fun!

We got up early on Saturday, got dressed, grabbed some bagels, and made our way to the 7:30 ferry. It was filled mostly with runners at that hour for the short sunrise ride across the East River.

We had some time to poke around and eat our breakfast after checking our bag. A Manhattan bagel loaded with vegan cream cheese, along with a large coffee, wasn’t the ideal pre-race breakfast. But I was also running in a dark navy suit. This wasn’t a PR race. I would deal.

Unfortunately Katie injured her knee a couple weeks before the race, so she was only able to walk. We lined up in the rear of the starting corral so we could hang together until the gun sounded.

The benefit of starting at the back was that I got to pass a lot of people early in the race. Soon I settled in with my crowd, which included a guy in shiny pants and sequined glasses and a tee shirt reading “Elton Jog,” a couple who had covered themselves in purple balloons to become grape clusters, and a guy wearing a Nemo costume.

Other than the start/finish area in the middle of the island, the course circles the perimeter of the island, and while the views are great, there is very little shade. The previous day’s warmth returned, and we ended up running in 80-degree heat and humidity and direct sunlight. Also, the course was paved. It was hot!

That Dos Equis bottle was filled with water for this race. Sadly, Nemo passed me by the end.

Because Governors Island is small, we had two laps for the 10K. At one point about 2/3 of the way into the lap there is a little out-and-back section. Here on my second lap I found Katie waiting for me. She offered to take my blazer, but I was committed. Plus I was getting props from the other runners for wearing it the whole way. I am not without ego!

As I approached the finish I heard the emcee announce The Most Interesting Man in the World. I had arrived!

Though this wasn’t a racing race for me, I was happy to finish in just over 57 minutes. A 9:10 pace was great for the conditions.

We would have loved to stick around to explore the shops, food, and museum on offer at Governors Island, but I was on the verge of heat stroke and desperately needed to shower and change my clothes. Plus we had another event to get to.

Bike Kill was everything I had hoped for. But that’s a story for another blog.

Bike Kill. You can’t really describe it.

We had a great time in NYC. I managed to sneak in one more run over the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges before we came home to make for a full running weekend. The Haunted Island races – there is also a 5K on Sunday – were well organized and a lot of fun. I would highly recommend.

RACE SUMMARY:

Distance: 10K
Time: 57:31
Pace: 9:09
Place: 477/1,511
Age group: 19/41

5/5/24: Maine Coast Marathon

After four months of training, race day finally arrived, with pretty much ideal running conditions. Mostly cloudy skies, temperatures in the low 50s, no rain.

This of course was my biggest concern for the whole race. After getting burned by heat and sunshine the past two years, I really wanted comfortable weather for my next long race. And after a scare in the forecast a few days in advance, things worked out ideally.

Having survived 18 weeks of training without injury, the weather was icing on the cake. I was feeling extremely ready for marathon number two as I joined nearly 1,000 other runners in a parking lot at the end of a peninsula in Wells Beach at 7:30 a.m.

The size of the field surprised me. I had looked at the 2023 results and counted only 270 finishers. But last year was the first year at this location, and evidently they limited the field to make sure everything went smoothly. It was a very big event. On Saturday there were 700 entrants in the 5k, including Katie, and 2,000 running the half marathon.

1,000 people filled Atlantic Avenue to the brim. This is a classic oceanfront village, with houses and hotels densely piled almost on top of each other to gain access to the beach. It was a great atmosphere to start with.

Owing to the cool morning temperature, I started out wearing a long sleeve shirt, but I had arranged to meet Katie at the first intersection a mile in, where I handed it over to her care. I was already amply warm, even with a slight ocean breeze.

The next few miles were along Webhannet Drive, which then feeds into Ocean Avenue as we approached the Ogunquit town line. Here the housing was much less dense, and featured sprawling modern properties. There was a lot of construction, both new buildings and renovations, and I noted that resulted in a lot of bonus port-a-potties on the course. I didn’t see anyone take advantage though.

After four miles we turned inland on Bourne Avenue. This was a nice jaunt through the coastal marsh of the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge. Soon we were back in a residential neighborhood, then heading north on busy Route One, which in Wells is known as Post Road.

There was lots of great crowd support along Post Road, which we followed for a mile and a half before turning left (west) on Littlefield Road. This was the start of the rural inland portion of the run, and the first significant climb.

It’s about four miles up Littlefield, and about 150 feet of climbing. That’s not super steep, but I tried to keep myself in energy preservation mode. I had done the first four miles at about a 9:15 pace. That would work out to just over four hours for the race, and was basically what I had been aiming for. Miles five and six were slightly uphill and at 9:30. Mile seven on Littlefield was done in 10:16, as I fiddled with my nutrition and my phone. I was trying to text my progress to Katie and friends. It turned out to be a difficult task without my reading glasses!

The race was going well at this point. When I first signed up for this I was thinking I could just jog ten-minute miles and finish in four hours and twenty minutes, about ten minutes faster than it took to complete the Vermont City Marathon. In my training, however, 10s felt a little slow. I also received feedback from my friend Donna, along with “general guidance,” that my marathon time should be closer to 4:00. 9:30s (sub 4:10) seemed like a reasonable goal.

I even started harboring this fantasy that if I got close to 4:00 I could focus in 2025 on trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I turn 60 next year and get an additional fifteen minutes to qualify at 3:50 or under. Boston seems like an experience that I would love.

I will admit that at no point in my long runs during training did I get the sense that I could sustain the pace needed to get close to 4:00. But you never know what race day will bring, so I figured I would approach the race as if this was a possibility.

Returning to the race: the course flattened out and even went downhill for mile 8, which I wasn’t expecting. That went in 9:03, my fastest split yet. Also at this time I veered from my nutrition plan. My friend Ali had sent an article about how to fuel during a race, which called for much more aggressive intake of carbs.

I was taking Gu gels every 25 minutes, but already by the third one at mile eight that was starting to feel like a lot, so I skipped it. I haven’t typically had stomach problems during races and didn’t want to start now. I had gotten through my first marathon with a lot less. I ended up taking most of my planned nutrition, but I did skip a couple of more along the way.

The next three miles, which included the turn on to North Berwick Road, were more gradual climbing at a 9:30 pace. Now we were on the back stretch, with five miles of rolling hills, which would culminate with one more significant climb. I reached the halfway point in 2:04, so I was still doing well for a sub-4:10 finish. And even if I only ran 10-minute splits the rest of the way it was going to be a 4:15 finish.

It was downhill to the mile 14 aid station, then another mile-plus down before the last big climb. This is where the race was supposed to be made, the fast downhill miles. Mile 14 was okay, but mile 15 was not. My hips were beginning to get stiff, and I wasn’t getting any speed on the downslope. The 9:50 split here was a bad omen.

Mile 16 went a little faster, which was good because it was uphill, but the 9:42 split was the last sub-10:00 mile for the day.

North Berwick Road led to Branch Road and the Kennebunk town line. Then we turned and headed beck to the coast. After mile 18 I was into the “just jog it in” mindset, and started walking on the hills.

Don’t let the smile fool you. We’ve entered the pain cave.

We returned to Route 1, where the marathon runners had snarled the traffic. At least I was going faster than the cars.

By now the bottoms of my feet were in pain, alongside my stiff hips. 10’s became 11’s. At mile 20 I texted “10k to go. Def getting slower.”

Shortly thereafter we turned left to run through Laudholm Farm and down to the beach. There was another climb on this road, and as I walked into the aid station a group of runners passes by. It was the 4:20 pace group, and they were all running on the hill and exhibiting a lot more energy than you would expect 22 miles into the race. This was the most heartbreaking moment of the race for me, knowing I was unlikely to meet any goal other than finishing.

After the aid station we took a trail into the woods that emptied onto a small beach. At least the soft sand was a brief reprieve for my feet. Then into another neat little neighborhood, back across the marsh, and to the final hill of the race.

Owing both to its presence at mile 24 and its steep 50-foot climb, I dubbed this “Bullshit Hill.” Because really, it was bullshit to have to deal with it at that point.

BS Hill took us back to Post Road one final time. We were still going up a gentle grade. I was jogging in pain, getting passed by anybody who was still running, but also passing several people who were relegated to walking in at this point.

This would be the case until the finish. There was a little quarter-mile downhill through another neighborhood, then about half a mile flat to the finish at the waterfront park. There beer, food, music, and Katie were waiting for me. It was a very long half mile to get there.

My finishing time was 4:24:51, which was just over a 10:00 pace, and slightly slower than what I thought was my worst-case scenario. That said, it was seven minutes faster than Vermont City, and overall the whole thing went better this time.

It made me wonder what would have happened if I had just gone with the original plan to take it easy with 10-minute splits from the start. A big part of me thinks that I would have been even slower, because I still probably would have had the pain, without the benefit of the faster miles up front. But it’s impossible to say.

In contrast to VCM, when I knew I wanted to try another marathon, I came out of the race thinking that maybe I’m just not a marathoner, and that maybe I should just stick to 10-15 milers as my top distance. I definitely thought that there was no way I’d have the desire to do what it takes to BQ.

Because I’m not on top of this blog I’ve had some time to consider. Though I really do think Boston is out of the question, I might go for a third marathon at a slow pace. I’ve shown myself that I can finish this distance, but I’d kind of like to know if I can enjoy it. Because at my age, what’s the point if it’s not fun?

5/2/24: Three Days to Race Day

After four months of training, we are just a few days away from the Maine Coast Marathon. I drive to Maine tomorrow, I’ll run a couple of miles while cheering Katie during her 5k on Saturday, then it’s go time.

Overall this has been a pretty smooth training cycle. Unlike the last time, I got through this without being injured. I feel a little pain in my knee after running for awhile, which I expect on Sunday, but it’s not acute and a knee wrap keeps it under control.

Uneventful is good, because I feel like I am in good position to have my best race. Even the weather is cooperating. The forecast calls for temperatures around 50 and a slight chance of showers. No worries about overheating.

The final taper week has been a little strange, in that I have been at a team retreat in DC all week. It’s been a little bit of a bummer, as my taper plan hasn’t allowed me to take full advantage of the wonderful trail system near the hotel. Also, I am sure I would have socialized a bit more if I weren’t committed to bringing my best physical condition to race day.

The other concern of course is Covid. Every slightly-off feeling has me worried that I’m getting sick and will be unable to race. I think that’s just me being paranoid though.

Other than that, I think all systems are go. Last weekend I put my race kit together, building in contingencies for everything from what we are getting, to 70+ and sunny. I’ve got my fuel and hydration plan set. I think all I need to do is get enough fuel over the next few days. So let’s do it!

4/22/24 Training Update: Taper Time

Two weeks (minus one day) to race day, and the taper is in full effect.

After fifteen weeks of building up mileage, with a cutback every three weeks, it’s now time to rest and recover from all that effort, and maintain health and fitness with lower mileage and intensity runs. The taper mirrors the training cycle in that it’s a gradual build-down of mileage.

After last week’s peak of 35 miles, including a 20-mile long run, this week was scaled back to just 26 miles, culminating in a 12-mile long run. It’s the last double-digit milage until race day.

One of my other hobbies, playing baseball in an old guy’s league, is starting to ramp up. Our first game is May 5 (same day as the marathon), and we are starting to schedule practices. I participated this week with a little fielding and batting practice. Both activities require lateral movement and pressure on the knees. Afterward, I felt a little extra pain in my right knee. I told the team’s manager that I will not partake in any further baseball activities until after my race.

I have not trained since the beginning of January just to have a knee injury foul things up for me. Been there, done that!

Sunday’s run was twelve miles, the final 10+ mile run of the cycle. I chose to run out to Big Rock and back, because Big Rock is exactly six miles from my house. Big Rock is a big rock on the River Road in Moretown.

This five-mile (mostly) dirt road runs from the end of the bike path in Montpelier to Route 100B in Middlesex. It runs through three towns – Montpelier (a very teeny part), Berlin and Moretown – and has three different names. It’s Junction Road in Montpelier and Berlin, then Three Mile Bridge Road in Berlin, and River Road when you reach the Moretown town line. But everyone just calls it the River Road, because it runs along the river.

You may have noticed that I said it ends in Middlesex, but that’s not technically true. Middlesex is on the other side of the river from where this road ends. But Middlesex village is right there, so it’s is more Middlesex than Moretown. But I digress.

Although the long runs are supposed to be slow, 30-90 seconds slower than marathon pace, I decided to run this at what I hope is the slower end of my goal marathon pace. The target was 9:30/mile, which equates to 4:10 in marathon time.

One bad habit that I’ve had over the years is to start out too fast, so this time I forced myself to stick with 9:30s for the first nine miles. I actually was going a slower pace than that, because I walked for hydration (every two miles) and nutrition (a gel at miles four and eight). This will be the plan during the race, too, though the intervals will be slightly longer.

I decided to speed it up to a 9:00 pace for the last three miles. I was slightly above that due to street crossings and another short walk/hydration break, but felt pretty good. But, you know, not super awesome. I’m still interested to see how this will play out over 26 miles.

It may all be moot, however, as Katie heard a report that a heat wave is heading to New England at the start of May, with temperatures reaching 80 degrees. I’ve had only a couple of days in this cycle over 50 degrees, and there’s no way to acclimate to this kind of heat over the next two weeks. I am traveling to DC next week, where it’s supposed to be over 80, but I only have two very short runs on the schedule.

There is a possibility that the ocean influence will moderate the race temperatures for at least the part directly on the coast (half of the run is a few miles inland), which would be nice. But even if it’s 60 degrees, direct sunshine will provide a beatdown. If that happens I will plan to jog at a 10+ pace and try to get to the end intact. Pray for clouds!

The other factor that has me concerned is the business trip itself. Fortunately it’s a short flight from Burlington to Washington, so exposure to potentially sick people will be limited there. However my team members come from across the USA and South America, and there is a pretty good risk of exposure from them. Fingers crossed that I get to the start line healthy!

But despite those factors, I am feeling good and ready to take on this challenge.