PrairieFest 10k, 2017

Why do I keep paying to run a race that I can run for free every single day? Why do I keep coming back to this race and this distance? I have nothing but high hopes, barfy feelings, pee my pants effort and dashed dreams and it costs me money to feel this way. You, too, can have this every August for less than $30.

I keep coming back because it is literally my local race. It goes directly past my house every year and I know lots of runners. While I love cheering all the runners on while I sit in a lawn chair and eat cinnamon rolls, it's also hard for me not to be out pounding the pavement with them. This year I had even declared to Anne and Kristy I would not be running it. But as I went to bed the night before, I decided it would be weird of me to go out for a run on my own and finish at the same time the race was starting. 

I woke up early, whispered to Bill I was running the 10k, had my usual pre-run breakfast and headed out to register at the park, a half block away. After registering, I went out for a long warm-up. I need at least a mile of very easy running before I'm anywhere near ready to go. I did a bunch of dynamic stretches at the back of the crowd and chatted with a friend.  My goal was to not want to quit while giving it about 80% effort. 

I envy the runners who look so cute. No I don't. They probably got up extra early to look that way.
I rolled out of bed. Obviously. 

Every year I want to quit. Every year people comment that this must be a breeze for me. So this year I will attempt to set the record straight. Yes, I've run further than 6.2 miles before. Yes, I run 6.2 miles more often than not in my daily training. But racing 6.2 miles is different. For me, 6.2 miles is gas to the floor kind of running. I've been working more on speed this summer than ever but in general I'm always working on very technical terrain which is slower or longer distances which is also slower. To say a 10k is a breeze for me is not the case. It is work. But if you tell me next year that this must have been easy for me, I'll probably smile and mumble something not bad.

So there I was at the back of the crowd. I didn't move up or position myself to some advantage. I knew there would only be a handful of runners doing the 10k to begin with. The truly fast ones would be where they belonged and I would be where I belonged, towards the back away from the fast cross country kids who would be done and gone before I crossed the finish line. I didn't care where I was. The race is run on roads the entire time and we are able to spread out across the width of the road. I could maneuver around runners as need be and not get caught up in them.

I popped in my earbuds and surveyed the crowd ahead of me. I watched the 5k's take the turn to head back and started calculating who might be ahead of me. This year it seemed the 10k participants was especially small. We stretched the entire length of East 1st street. This is always the longest section for me. I hardly ever run it (for free) and every time I do, I feel it sucks the life from me. Today I didn't allow myself to feel that way. A couple miles ticked off and I took time to look at my pace. I was pleased and decided to try to negative split the race. It would probably hurt but I decided it was the only way to make peace with this race this year.

My nephew and a couple of his friends has by-passed the 50k and went for the 10k, something I'm kind of proud of. They hung just in front of me. I knew he could pick it up but secretly hoped I could at least creep in front of him for a bit. I didn't say a word as I inched my way closer. I considered if it would be bad for him if his aunt beat him but before I could come to a conclusion those boys must have decided they were done being out there and just left me in the dust like I was standing still. 

I made all the usual turns along the course. I thanked the volunteers who stood offering water but took none. I rounded the corner right next to our house where a neighbor was out walking her tiny doggy. She remarked about me stopping to go inside and I laughed. I could actually do that. But I didn't and I didn't want to quit either. I was starting to gain on a couple of people and was hoping to make a pass. However, the distance from my house to finish line is just shy of a mile and one of the runners took off. I didn't have that kind of speed to catch her. I kept plying myself to finish strong.

I crossed the finish line to a few cheers. I was pleased with my time considering having just raced the 2/3 marathon the weekend before. I was happy to find I had some leg turnover after having a really rough Spring and an easy Summer to make up for the Spring. Later I looked at my mile splits and found that I ran each mile faster than the previous. I negative split the run. I collected my age group first place medal and headed to the parade where everyone else was already at.

Warning: Do not feed the ultra-runner a 10k

Moorehead 2/3 Mazathon

Sometimes there are so many races and sometimes there are so few races. The distance of the drive, the length of the race, the difficulty of the trail, these are all factors which weigh in on my decision for a race. Over the summer, I wrote out a calendar combining my training plan and potential races to align with the plan. Then I merged it, actually mashed it together with our family calendar and looked at what I had for options. I've never read tarot cards or had them read to me, but I suppose it's probably similar. How about if I use a panning for gold analogy? Yes, I was looking for little golden nuggets of training races amidst the rubble of dirt bike dust.

I taped up the notebook paper schedule beside my desk and occasionally referred to it. I couldn't make the Mines of Spain race because it coincided with two other activities that weekend. It's a great race and a tough course but I haven't been able to get back there for a couple of years. You know about my experiences with the Trail Nerds Pyscho Wyco races to know that I would be out of my mind to choose that again so soon. But floating around the Turkey's Facebook page was a new to me race in Ida Grove, Iowa named the Moorehead Mazathon and the Trail of the Dragon Ultra. 

Initially, the family calendar said we were busy so the reminders and notifications from Facebook passed. But early in the week of the race the calendar cleared up- like storms clouds floating away. The race director, Susan Knop even reopened the registration and I quickly applied. I found a place to bunk the night before the race via GOATZ friends and headed towards Ida Grove. 

At packet pickup, which isn't a packet, it's usually a bag that is stuffed with a bit of swag from race sponsors but that's what we call it, I met the two women I would be sharing a cabin with and another mother runner. We shared our running backgrounds and life tidbits over spaghetti and salad, provided by the race then headed to our cabin for the night. We spent the rest of the evening watching the sun go down, not getting much cell service and deciding the guy next door should make better life choices than to have a heart shaved into the back of his head as part of his haircut. 

When I arrived the next morning at the race, the 50k and 50 mile runners had already started, including my two cabin mates doing the 50 miles. There are 5 different races being held at the same time. The ultra races, called the Trail of the Dragon, go out and do a few extra sections on each loop. For the non-ultra races, called the Moorehead Mazathon, there are three distances to choose from- the 1/3, 2/3 and full marathon (8-ish miles, 17-ish miles, 26-ish miles). Again, these are trail races and the mileage is not exact and trail runners are okay with that. After a brief pre-race talk, the race director scratched a long line in the gravel as our official start, timer started us and we headed towards the trail. The starts may be my favorite as they are so nonchalant with most trail runners. Nobody is standing alongside commenting, "Wow! Look at them go!". Sure, there are always a few who take off and more power to them and a bunch of us start our watches and that's just about it. 

I was super curious about the trail. It started out with a double wide path which helped sort out who was moving at a faster pace and who was dropping back. Being such a small race, there really was no jostling and positioning to get into the right crowd. The trail then turned into a grass path that went over the top of a hill, rounded around the bottom, ran along off-camber of the same hill before spiking up to the top and back down. During the first lap, the sun was hidden by a layer of fog so thick it draped us like a heavy robe. I knew as soon as the sun bore its way through the clouds, we would die a thousand deaths in a smoldering cauldron of heat and humidity. (#TWH) Y'all, an August race does not play nice with weather. As the trail made its way into more wooded sections, it stayed double wide and was not technical although there was plenty of water erosion areas within that required good foot choices. Finally, the trail tucked into single track and I gave a little shout of glee. The trail would be a little more established and the tree cover would be better. 

course description: some gently rolling hills with heavy humidity

I kept my eye on my general pace and decided I was doing just fine. I had no particular goals for this race other than see what is was all about and to test myself in a race setting. I came upon a group of women discussing audio book choices and was passed by a speedy 50k or 50 miler but other than that just enjoyed my time. The single track ended when we hit the ski area and let me tell you, that was a sad realization. For the most part, the elevation change had not been too much so far but the race boasted 1,000 feet for each 8.8 mile loop and it had to happen somewhere. My leg turnover slowed to a hike as I made my way up the first of three steep hills. At the top of the first was a cemetery. How fitting, I thought. I also wondered if a trail races doesn't pass by a cemetery, is it even a trail race? Just a little funny moment to myself. Down to the bottom, around the corner and back up another steep climb, only to turn around and bust your quads to the bottom where other than an aid station check in, you turn around and head back up the same hill via a different route. Imagine the three climbs making a W. It was a brutal section because they came one after another after another. 

"Death, oh death. Won't you spare me over 'til another year?" Ralph Stanley

The race director did a fantastic job of squeezing every bit of mile out the park. She routed us through the historic homestead of Ida Grove where a small handful of buildings still stood. After they finished, the audio book women told me on another loop the buildings were open and they toured one! 

The local cross country team was enlisted as volunteers. They did everything from timing, to managing the aid stations to directing runners. There were two particular enthusiastic and vocal boys at the mazathon/ultra split who whooped and hollered and cheered more than anyone I've ever seen at a race. While I missed my turn initially because I was so entertained by them (but they quickly re-directed them), they were the best! All the volunteers were great. It really was a local effort and I loved that aspect. 

I finished my first loop, stopping briefly for a bite and bathroom break then headed toward the trail again. I was really pleased with my effort on the first loop and decided how I wanted to approach the second one, which would be my last since I was running the 2/3 marathon. I decided to see if I could finish strongly with my time being as close as possible to the first loop. I plugged in my ear buds to the Hamilton score and worked on not throwing away my shot. 

I would say my general approach to my second and final loop was to keep the pace steady and push when I could. I now knew the entire course and there weren't any surprises. I had kept an eye on the bib numbers of runners passing me on the out and backs and had a general idea of where I was in terms of placing. It wasn't my plan to place; my plan was to run smart, but I wasn't going to let someone pass me if I could help it. On the climb to the cemetery, I saw the next person ahead of me and started planning. I crushed that downhill, beat it up the next climb, crushed that downhill again and after a shot or two of pickle juice at the aid station, charged my way to the next climb. However, between the quick aid station and the fast, steep hikes, my body screamed at me. I listened because I knew I would not pass anybody if I flat out bonked before I had a chance at the chase. I made sure I had enough calories in me, filled my water bottle and worked my way around the course. Very soon I saw her and realized I was moving better than she. I passed her quickly, giving her a word of encouragement. 

I was happy for my surge but it had taken a toll on me and I worked to not back off completely, which is a different kind of battle. It's a mental one that presses the body to overcome when it wants to stop. All of this was what I had come for although I didn't think of that at the time and only now as I write. (Thanks for making me write race re-caps, Kristy.) The trail came to and end and I ran along the edge of the park road. In the grassy edge were a photographer and a guy and girl in formal clothes. I thought it was a an odd time of year for prom pictures or senior pictures or so on but maybe not. Around the next corner the picture became clear. There stood a bride and groom and another photographer. I wished them congratulations as I sprinted to the finish line. At least what I thought looked like sprinting.

As I cross the timing mat to people clapping, the timer told me I was third place female. Oh, wow! I did pass that one woman ahead of me and no one else passed me but I am never quite sure of my position. It was really fun to race well and third place is a nice perk. Later in the evening, I looked at my time for each of my loops and I had run them exactly even! 

I hung around at the finish, cheering in other runners, talking to friends, sipping some Blue Moon, chowing down on post race food and thanking the race director, Susan Knop,  again for a great, quality race. No matter how many attend the race, it is still a lot of work and she is doing it well.

sweet single track