The Holy Trinity of WTF Racing

Wow.  it's been nearly seven months to the day since I last posted to my blog.  A lot's happened, including nearly a month and a half traveling in NZ and visiting with family and friends.  And a second winter in a row of my discontent, filled with seriously cold and dark filled days that in turn filled me with despair at ever feeling upbeat again.  But, inevitably, the seasons have turned and I find myself literally back in the saddle and looking forward to a varied and interesting season of events, including my fourth Mountains of Misery, a bike tour in upstate New York, and Richmond marathon.

In my last post, having secretly signed up for and raced Ironman Maryland, I described it as my "F" race relative to everything else I so carefully planned and trained for over the season.  Someone jokingly asked if it was my "WTF" race?  I loved that idea so much--and the freedom it brought to the race itself--that I decided I needed to have a WTF race every year.

This last weekend, not yet four months into 2015, I completed my third WTF race of the year and I'm having a blast.  Here are a few highlights.

WTF #1:  NJ Trail Series:  Winter Trail Series Race #3

The first was a trail half marathon in New Jersey in January.  I picked it because it was the earliest trail race of any decent distance that would kick my running into gear after a fall and early winter spent indulging in way too much good NZ wine and food and not nearly enough exercise.  I really enjoy trail running, especially in winter and this year's snow totals really helped make the trails pretty and challenging.  However, I wasn't quite prepared for the seven inches of snow that fell in NJ the night before the race.  I fully expected it to be cancelled, but these guys don't cancel for a measly little snow on the ground.  Nope.  Not them.  Over 80 participants turned up to a delayed start for the 5K, 10K or half marathon.  I walked up to the start line and the race director told everyone that I only needed to complete the course to win the women's half marathon division since I was the only one.  Awesome!  A guaranteed podium!

The first couple of miles were damned tough.  The snow hadn't packed down (and by the time the big boys had plowed through it for the second time, packing it down, I was regretting leaving my yaktraks at the hotel) and slogging through deep snow is much harder than I'd ever have thought.  Plus there were all the uphills.  And of course, because of the snow, the trail was challenging to follow, so for good measure I got lost.  Eventually I met up with a local called Bruce and we made our way back to the finish line - at mile 10.  Hmmm.  This was supposed to be a half marathon.  Thank god for Bruce, because if it wasn't for him, I'd not have gone back out again.  He admitted the same was true for him, so together we turned around and ran out and back for another three miles.

13.1 miles 3:01:17.  And I even beat the other two women who eventually turned up!  Of course, none of us actually ran the same course--I think about 25% of the half marathoners got lost and another 25% of the 10K runners who eventually went about 10 miles--but everyone had a great attitude, though it was way too cold to hang around and chit chat afterwards.

Lessons learned:  Carry a course map, carry yaktraks for winter races

WTF #2:  NJ Trail Series:  Muddy Marathon

Ah, the Muddy Marathon.  I first "raced" this  event five years ago and had an absolute blast.  I've been looking to race it again ever since, but after a couple of years on hiatus, the race only returned last year.  Read this guy's race report to get a sense of the race.

I confess that I was a bit disappointed to find that they'd changed the venue from a pretty little state park to a ski resort.  And even more disappointed when the night before the race I got an email from the race director saying that he wasn't able to find as much mud this year, so he'd had to add in more elevation and bushwhacking.  Elevation?  I hate running hills.

And he wasn't kidding.  The first 0.7 miles were straight up a ski slope on old crusty snow with an average grade of 22.6%.

We climbed and descended twice from the bottom of the snow to the top of the snow, because, why not?

Stopping to take a photo  from the top was a good excuse for a breather.

I think I ran for about the first 200 yards before I slowed to a walk.  A very slow walk.  But once we got up to the top, the fun started.  Lakes, swamp, mud, streams, ducking under branches, scrambling over rocks, religiously following the pink streamers of the course.  I nearly lost a shoe or two at several points and once landed in cold water up to the top of my thighs.  It became evident that running was the only thing that would warm up my sodden feet.

And I was in heaven.  Each turn brought a new surprise, whether a swamp to be crossed or a picture postcard view of a lake.

And there was mud.  Plenty of glorious mud.  Some people went around when they could, but dammit, I was here for the Muddy Marathon and I was going to get as much of it as I could.

I even risked my no-longer water resistant smartphone to get a video of the fun.

And in the middle of all this, the course came out at the top a second ski slope, where I took the advice of last year's blogger and ass skied down part of it.  So much fun until I hit the bumpy icy part.  There were scratches on my ass to show for my effort the next day.  But it was definitely faster than slowly picking my way down.

At the half way point, at the very bottom of the second ski slope, we had to mark our bibs with a checkmark to prove that we'd not cut the course.  However, I wanted bit more of a meaningful memento of the day.

More goat trailing up the slope, then clambering up a rock slope, where the brisk breeze was mercifully at our backs, literally strong enough to push us upwards.  More mud, water and brambles and a final fast slip 'n slide down a third ski slope to the finish line.  The war stories from my fellow competitors were fun to hear and exchange.

Final time for 6 miles:  2:33:01 with an average of 25 minute miles.  And for all my effort, I officially DNF'd missing the 2 hr cutoff by a country mile, even if you take off my stoppages for photo opportunities.  But there's a reason this race is tagged "The most fun you'll have going so slow."  I sure did--for the second time--and hope to come back some day.

Lessons learned:  Review YouTube videos of skree slope running before attempting a ski slope descent sans skis.

WTF #3: Rev3 Adventure AquaBlaze

Back in February, in the depths of the longest, coldest, darkest month, my friend Es suggested that a few of us race an adventure race called the AquaBlaze which is made up of a 12 mile paddle and a 12 mile trail run.  Before I could even respond, 27 messages had flown between the other three women on the invite.  So of course I said "Sure!" Not that I gave it a single moment's thought except to check with my calendar.  Simply the prospect of camping and racing with this particular group of women was enough for me to sign up.  The only problem I could see was that I couldn't paddle.  Not a canoe, not a kayak, not a ping pong ball.  Not a problem, we were assured.  This section of the Shenandoah was baby bottom smooth and very beginner friendly.

Now, the three of us are experienced triathletes, accustomed to racing Ironmans which take the better part of a day.  So, naturally, figuring the race would be many hours long, we crammed, stuffed and squeezed enough calories into our camelbaks to feed a small army.  Then we actually thought about the nature of the race. The paddle--of unknown duration--wasn't likely to take much effort since it was downstream and the river was quite fast.  So we needed to hydrate, but not really consume that many calories.  Then there was a three mile climb.  That would be hard, but again, we'd be going pretty slowly.  A six mile run along the ridgeline would need fueling, but after that, it was three miles downhill to the finish.  So, once we figured out we actually only really needed enough fuel for a six mile train run, I think we each shed at least 50% of what we originally packed.

Looking around at all these incredibly buff, hardcore adventure racers, I felt dreadfully inadequate and out of my comfort zone.  I could have woken up that morning, grabbed my packing list and run an Ironman the next day.  But this?  I was completely at sea.  Or, more accurately, at river.  It was a new feeling for me, but not an unwelcome one.

True to expectations, Es and Michele provided lots of laughs as we boarded the bus to transport us and our paddles up the river to the ... um ... launch? point.

Up the creek with, well, one paddle!

We met the other womam soloist racer (the race also had two person teams who'd be in relationship testing canoes instead of kayaks) who was super experienced and sweet enough to stay with me all the way down the river - because, she said, I was new to this and she wanted to make sure I had a good time.  I really appreciated the company and the advice.

They even had a real live drone to record the start!

Please note the absolutely drop dead stunning day.  The sun was shining and it got up to 80 degrees by mid afternoon.  Floating down the Shenandoah was spectacular and we were treated to an eagle's nest, rows of turtles sunning themselves on downed trees, pretty cabins lining the riverbank and cows wading in the water.

Despite a bit of a wobbly start, I channeled the YouTube video I'd watched the day before teaching me how to paddle and tried to get into some kind of rhythm unless I had to make my way to the shore for a mandatory check point.  Most I was successful, though I was definitely fatiguing by the end.

After a couple of hours of gentle paddling and the occasional soaking when we went through the (extraordinarily gentle) rapids, we pulled into the transition area where we retrieved our shoes and socks from their dry bags and headed out on the walk/hike/run.

Did I mention the instructions that said "follow the purple trail to the top of the mountain?"  This climb wasn't as steep as the Muddy Marathon, but at nearly 11% grade for over 2 miles, it was slow jogging and then even slower walking.

The view from the finish line towards the ridgeline we climbed up to and ran along.  No.  Not that one.  The other one waaaaaay in the distance.

But once we arrived at the top, the rewards were 100% worth it.  Running along the ridge, we could see for miles both to the left and the right.

From mile 6, we could even see the finish line in the curve of the river.

The trail was beautiful, with a mixture of smoothish trail and those (^$#@^! mid-sized rocks that can so easily twist your ankle.  The worst was when said rocks were combined with a skinny wee trail clinging to the side of the mountain.  I walked those portions.

The trail went up ...

And down again ...

I was pretty pleased with how much I managed to run and consequently passed a lot of the two person teams who were hiking the trail instead of running.  But the heat definitely affected all of us - it takes a while to acclimate.  The last 1.5 miles were on a flat, exposed road, so that was tough.  But, again, the view was lovely.

After 5:34, I checked into my last checkpoint and ran across the lonely finish line.  So lonely I had to recreate the moment for posterity laster on.  But the funniest thing was that I'd managed to win the category.

Final time for 12 miles of paddling:  2:10

Final time for 11.6 mile trail run:  3:14

All four soloist women.  Four noobs and an angel.

My prize winning pint glass!

Celebrating my first adventure race finish.

This WTF race was so much fun.  There were portions that weren't really like racing at all and then others that had me wondering what I'd signed up for.  The heat was brutal and the terrain challenging.  But the scenery was exactly what I love about doing what I do.  

Once again, I wonder at how lucky am I, eh?

One trinity of WTF races down.  I wonder what other events I have to look forward to.