Five Weeks, Four Races
Moving to Oregon, I was excited about a number of things: rain, mushrooms, conifers, coffee — pretty much anything that reminded me of Twin Peaks. Running was another anticipated highlight. With year-round runnable weather and amazing trail systems in Forest Park and the Columbia River Gorge, I was sure that the home state of Prefontaine, Hayward Field, and Nike would not disappoint.
And what better way to acclimate to the new running scene than to race way too much, way too soon, off of too little training, while nursing a nagging injury? This is a time-tested strategy of countless runners, and who was I to spoil tradition by considering the results of said tests? So I sat down at my laptop, fired up Race Center Northwest, and crafted the following very reasonable racing schedule: Reed College 5k (9/20), Multnomah Falls Trail Run (9/28), Portland Half Marathon (10/5), Elk-King’s Mountain Traverse (10/18).
Results
My crazy race schedule worked out far better than it had any right to. I had to scale back some training after a flare up of my achilles injury, but managed to stay healthy and enjoy the process of both recovering and racing. Being a little injured and a little undertrained gives you the freedom to play in your races, and I really enjoyed that. Here’s what happened:
| Race | Distance | Elevation | Place | Time |
| Reed College 5k | 5 km | 188′ | 4th | 17:51 |
| Multnomah Falls Trail Run | 5.9 miles | 2,600′ | 1st | 40:10 |
| Portland Half Marathon | 13.1 miles | 200′ | 4th* | 1:16:52 |
| Elk-King’s Mountain Traverse | 15.5 miles | 5,800′ | 6th | 2:39:03 |
*Officially 3rd. I’ll explain below.
Above, each time link will take you to GPS data from my race, and each place link points to official results for the event.
Reed College 5k
I can’t think of any metrics by which this qualifies as a “good” race. I went out hard (5:23 for the first, uphill mile) and had neither the physical fitness nor mental fortitude to keep it up. Regardless, it was a fun outing and I was happy to see Sarah take 2nd in her age group. I also got to race against some students and the college president. Overall a low-key rust buster, or so I thought.
Multnomah Falls Trail Run
The day after the 5k I went out for a recovery jog only to discover a new and acute pain in my left foot. Having never experienced such a pain before, I was certain I had a stress fracture in my fifth metatarsal. Thankfully, I followed the sage advice of a colleague and got an emergency appointment with Dr. AJ Scherer at Back in Motion. He quickly ruled out a stress fracture and identified a cascading chain of problems stemming from mobility issues with my left ankle. This explained the long-term achilles/calf pain I’d been having, and the foot pain was the newest manifestation. After an adjustment, some Graston, electro-stimulation, and ice, I was able to run at the end of our session. I don’t believe in miracle cures, but this felt like one. (In fact, it remains a continuing issue requiring persistent care. Thankfully, though, it’s not keeping me from running like a stress fracture would.)
So it was with Dr. Scherer’s blessing that I laced up my running shoes for the Multnomah Falls Trail Run only six days after thinking my racing season was over. The MFTR starts and ends at the Wahkeena Falls Trailhead, making a loop up the Multnomah Falls switchbacks and back down via Wahkeena. The scenery is gorgeous: the 620 foot-tall Multnomah Falls gives way to secluded rocky trails bumbling through rocks and moss. Then old growth conifers shelter ferny undergrowth and some smooth packed dirt. The final descent tumbles through rocky, rooty, face-smacking terrain which I might remember better if I hadn’t been so focused on not falling.
The heavy-use switchbacks on the initial ascent are paved, making them far more runnable than the grade would predict, but this was still some serious climbing. I used my reasonable climbing skills to put a good gap on the field here, and couldn’t see my nearest competitor by the time I reached the first trail junction in the course. When I reached the turn downhill I was excited to enjoy a brisk trot to the finish tape and my first race win in the Pacific Northwest.
Not so fast: Given my semi-pathetic descending skills on uneven terrain, it should come as no surprise that my brisk is other people’s moderate, and within a quarter mile of heading downhill I heard heavy breathing and loud footsteps behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed that Superman was trying to overtake me. (No, really. A guy wearing blue tights with a pair of red underwear over them and a red infant bib taped to his back was gaining quickly. [Much to my discredit, I had decided not to partake in the superhero costume component of the race.])
And then something wonderful happened: I finally had a legitimate excuse to throw caution to the wind and push hard on a technical descent. My legs were independent pistons, launching me from rock to root to rock, over streams, even through streams. I was pushing hard, bending gravity to my will. I was maintaining a gap. We must have been hitting mid-5-minute miles as we screamed down some gnarly trails.
I wasn’t aware at the time, but drama was unfolding behind me as well: Superman (Tom Ferrell) was nipped at the line by the hard-charging Levi Younger. I managed to hang on for a first place finish, which felt great.
Portland Half Marathon
The Portland Half Marathon filled up months before I even knew it existed, but Reed College (where I teach math) managed to secure some last-minute spots for faculty, students, and staff who wanted to run. Of course I wanted to run!
This was a race I had designated as a “tempo” effort, a potentially meaningless category that would hopefully keep me from going out too hard. The course was great (for a road race) and featured some nice sunrise views of Mt. Hood. I kept the leaders in sight initially, sorely tempted to drop my race plan and try to keep up. Sanity prevailed and I had a good time cranking out an evenly paced race. There were some great cheerleaders along the course, including
- some older women wearing reindeer antlers pantomiming slow-motion running,
- a marimba band on an overpass, and
- a large cast of elaborately dressed pirates.
The Reed turnout at the race was impressive, too. President John Kroger, Vice President Mike Brody, physics professors Johnny Powell and Alison Crocker, one of my calculus students, math professor emeritus Rao Potluri, and many, many more. We were all outfitted in custom Reed singlets with a running griffin on the front and a quote from the Odyssey on the back:
What greater glory attends a man, while he’s alive, than what he wins with his racing feet and striving hands? Come and compete then, throw your cares to the wind!
(Fine, fine: It takes a while to read, but what else are you going to do in an hour+ race?)
Reed results were good. Alison took second in the women’s division of the half marathon, and I came in fourth behind Jack Flowers, a physics senior. Jack was racing with someone else’s bib and was thus excluded from the results, hence my “official” 3rd place finish. He ran a very different race, going out with the leaders and slowing a bit at the end, but it was still more than strong enough to hold off my bid for faculty supremacy in the final mile.
Overall, I was super pleased with this race. Since it was a “tempo” run, I don’t have to worry about it being six minutes off my PR (eek!).
Elk-King’s Mountain Traverse
The EKMT was my goal race for the fall. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw the elevation profile:
Image: Frederic Bard
Over fifteen miles of rugged single track goodness with 5,800 feet of elevation gain (and loss) amongst the rain, mushrooms, and conifers of Tillamook State Forest. (They even had Oblique coffee at the start line, making this a Pacific Northwest quadfecta. Oh, and running: quintfecta.)
All of the maroon segments of the elevation profile have a grade greater than 15%, and more than a few parts required flat out quadrupedal scrambling. The Mazamas had been enlisted to set up some ropes at a couple of tricky sections (e.g. a steep, slick rock descent at the top of Elk) and I was happy to enlist the their aid.
Ascending Elk Mountain. Image: Paul Nelson Photography
I went out with the leaders but realized they had better ascending chops within 3/4 of a mile. Given the gap they had on me by the finish line, they must have been better descenders as well. I ended up in a truel with the eventual fifth and seventh place finishers, Nate Jaqua and Levi Younger. (Yep, the same Levi who got second in the MFTR.) On the Elk-King’s portion of the course we established a pattern in which I would build up a lead on uphill segments, then watch them zip by me on the technical downhills. The one time I tried to really push on a descent and keep up, I came out of a corner a bit wide, planted firmly on the edge of the trail, and managed to kick a good foot of trail off the mountain. One of the luxuries of running is that your momentum allows for some Wile E. Coyote moments in which you don’t plummet through empty space.
At the second aid station I was in no-man’s land, having lost contact with my competitors on the 2,300′ quad-pounding descent. Nothing to do, of course, but keep my eyes on the trail and hope I would catch runners on the uphill and fend them off on the final downhill. At this point, 50k competitors headed in the opposite direction started to appear. I started asking how much gap there was to my competitors, and discovered I was closing in. I caught Levi with about five miles to go; he was power hiking an incline I was still able to run.
One 50k’er estimated a 30-second gap to Nate shortly before mile 11, but I never caught or saw him. In fact, shortly after the second aid station (mile 12), I was stopped short by a cramp in one of my adductors. I walked it out for a couple minutes, constantly looking over my shoulder for a hard-charging Levi. Thankfully, the adductor stopped spasming and I could continue on my way, finally settling into some relatively flat terrain permitting a small injection of pace.
And then, about a mile before I expected it, I could see the final bridge leading to the finish line. No one in front of me, no one behind me, the sound of a cowbell clinking in the hand of an understimulated spectator. I tried to look strong as I crossed the bridge and finish line, then promptly crumpled, arms and head supported by a plastic picnic table. At some point I roused myself enough to down a couple liters of water (out of my snazzy finisher’s EKMT pint glass — so much better than a t-shirt) and congratulate Levi as he passed the finish line. Despite the ensuing quad, hamstring, adductor, calf, and abdominal(!) cramps, I had no problem eventually enjoying the post-race barbecue, Super Dog IPA, and camaraderie.
I had come into the EKMT vaguely thinking that times between 2.5 and 3.5 hours would be reasonable, so my 2:39 felt just fine. The finish could have been very fun and interesting if I hadn’t lost minutes to my leg cramp, so I’ll have to show up to my next trail race with a few more hills in my legs and maybe an extra banana in my race kit.
And for my next trick
I’m not sure what’s next on my race docket. Clearly some recovery running is in order, and I need to make sure my achilles fully heals. David and I are still chewing on big plans for the spring, and I’d like to figure out if I can get into the Speedgoat 50k. I guess the big question is whether I’ll find a few races to prod my running through the winter, or just focus on quality mileage and time on the trails. Suggestions welcome!
The Bright Obvious 