The Great Run

June 20, 2015

Couldn't have picked a better summer race destination! Actually, my friend Emma found this one...and I jumped right on board because I am enthralled with the coast of Maine. 

So let me back up: The Great Run is on Great Cranberry Isle off the coast of Bar Harbor.  It's a tiny place! About two miles long and one mile wide, population in the 40's.  Straight out of a  storybook. A beautiful little place out on the edge of the continent. 

Took the coastal route up

I'm not sure why I thought running a marathon the weekend after the Bay Swim would be a good idea! I was still exhausted from the swim, though I had convinced myself otherwise. I had only trained up to 15 miles and, thanks to a nagging hamstring issue, had taken more of a taper than planned.  

 






 How would this turn out? As always, it was a roll of the dice. 

 Race Day

After breakfast at Emma's favorite breakfast place, we headed for the ferry.  Yes, I said ferry!  This is the first race I've done where you have to take a boat to get to the start line.  How cool is that?! Getting there is half the fun!

With Emma and Ella....waiting for our ride

Ah, GCI. Such a far cry from the mean streets of DC.  Walking down the main drag to the start line we passed a lemonade stand. A few paces later another kid was selling sand dollars she had collected from the water surrounding the island.  

I could just stretch out on a patch of green and take a nap in the sunshine. Or curl up on someone's porch and purr. But there was that nagging 26.2 matter to take care of...

So, how do you fit a 26.2 mile race on a 2 mile wide island? With a series of out-n-backs, of course. First you run toward one end of the island, then you run toward the other end. Repeat about 16 times. 

And here we go...

Course difficulty? Well, I thought, it's an island, so it's gonna be flat. Look how nice and flat it looks in this photo. Wrong! There were some hillz...nothing too brutal, but tough enough for this slacker.

This was one of my favorite views... and just think, we got to run past this lovely lupine lushness umpteen times!

Look who it is! Back when we were standing in line for the ferry, we heard a voice behind us say, "is this the line for the ferry?" Turned around to find JC standing there! JC, the Guiness World Record holder for consecutive 50ks! JC, the globetrotting runner I had met on a San Antonio trail during that marathon on Christmas Day last year. Such a small world running is. But I shouldn't have been surprised. JC is always popping up at the next race...and then the next. 

That was the before shot....here's the after:

Back to the course beauty...because there was so much of it.  Heading toward the finish line the course was lined with flags from around the globe. A very cool idea. Wonder how many countries were represented at this tiny race!

Check out the banners with inspirational quotes... these people think of everything!

The islanders came out to cheer. My favorite was an old couple who must have been in their 80's. They sat out in the heat for hours with an ice chest full of ice pops! Ah, such a good idea and such a relief in the heat. I wonder what their story is! How did they wind up on this island? How long have they lived here, what do they do all day, where does the rest of the fam live? But those questions would have to wait. 

And that's a wrap...

The race took me over 6 hours. Ugh. Dead legs, done in by the heat...but hey, I'm just getting started! Now with the Bay behind me, it's time to get ultra serious about Tunnel Hill.

As we waited for the ferry home, I knew I would be back some day. Maybe to run again, maybe just to visit.  

Check out the bling! 

Great Chesapeake Bay Swim 2015

June 14, 2015

Back for another Bay Swim! How did this happen? After one successful finish and two DNFs, I was giving the Bay one more shot. Could I break even? As usual, it was a roll of the dice.

New & Different
If I was going to be successful at the Bay this year, I knew I had to change things up, do something different. The same old, same old wasn't working.  So, I joined a Crossfit gym to build upper body strength and upped my swim volume during the week. 

In the weeks leading up to the swim, I visualized success. I could see myself heading toward that 4 mile cut off buoy where I got pulled last year, swimming right past it and turning for the bridge, then toward the finish line. I pictured this over and over. The mind is a powerful thing....but would the currents cooperate?

 Also new this year -- the Bay Swim was an official Team Z race!

Mile 1 - 35 minutes

With a 12:15 start, we were boiling hot in our wetsuits waiting for the swim to begin. Let's get this party started! 

We had an ebb tide, so the current gave us a slight little push as we swam toward the bridge.  My plan was to stay to the left side of the lane until I got through the curve, then move to the middle. Made it to the 1 mile buoy in 35 minutes.  Faster than last year-- so far, so good!

 Mile 2 - 52 minutes

Let's just call this mile my WTF Moment. The ebb current was cranking. I hadn't expected to be fighting current this early in the swim! Making things worse, I had prematurely adjusted to the middle of the lane,  prepping for the flood current to come. It quickly became apparent that the slack tide wasn't here yet and I wasn't in a good position. Ugh. 

To keep moving forward I had to angle myself about 40 degrees and really kick up my turn over.  Not good to be expending so much energy so early in the race. Despite the hard effort, I kept inching closer to the bridge span and started to think this may be the Bay Swim where I get pulled before I even make it to mile two! 

Get a grip, Sally. I told myself to focus, instead, on what was going right. There wasn't any chop --the water was practically flat. I felt a little stronger this year....so there was that.  And the slack tide would be here soon-- ummm, right?  

Maybe things will be better on the other side of the channel. All I could do was fight my way across and try to stay positive.

 Mile 3 - 39 minutes

Cue the slack tide! Sure enough, the current eased up after mile 2 and I was feeling great! So good, in fact, that I thought about stopping at the first feed boat, but knew that even a minute spent not moving forward could make the difference between swimming past that 4 mile cutoff buoy and getting cut. 

About half a mile later, I paused briefly and popped my first GU. Couldn't believe how great I felt! I started to think this could be my year to once again conquer the Bay.


Mile 4.4 - 1:37

Despite my good mood, I knew better than to think that the easy conditions would last for long. I moved closer to the right side of the lane, prepping for the current to begin coming from the right. Sure enough, the tide changed and the current kicked in. The wind also started blowing, pushing rollers at us from the same direction as the current, just like last year. 

Last year. Not a good thought.

I popped up to try to see the 4 mile cutoff buoy but the waves were in the way. I put my head down and started picturing myself swimming past the buoy, just as I had done leading up to race day.

I seemed to be moving in slow motion, barely inching forward. I decided this would be a piling-by-piling fight. From one piling to the next I swam as hard as I could,  mentally checking off each piling as I passed. And I started kicking harder to punch through the roller coaster waves.  

Just make that frickin' 4 mile cut off buoy, dammit! Come on, Sally. Is this all you got?!

An entire fleet of kayakers seemed to be following me at this point. Circling like vultures! Just waiting to pull me! Of course they're there for safety, but after last year's episode, I didn't want them anywhere near me. 


Finally, I was somehow passing the 4 mile cutoff buoy and heading for the beach balls that marked the exit under the south span and the final stretch to the finish line. Yes! I'm doing this!

But I knew better than to celebrate too soon. The right turn under the span meant that we were swimming practically head on into the current. I flashed back to 2013, the year I ended the race swimming in place because the current was so strong. 

At this point, I was exhausted and thirsty.  Why hadn't I taken my second GU before this crazy current kicked in?! The intensity of effort required to keep moving forward made this feel harder than my 50 miler--or even Ironman. Think about it:  in other races, you can stop and take a break and the consequence is that you stop moving forward. But here in this Bay current, if you stop to take a break you not only stop moving forward, you also get swept backward! 

Finish!

After mounting a final assault on the current with every ounce of energy I could muster, I made it to the protection of the jetties.  Whew! It was shallow enough to walk at this point and I did some walking, some swimming on the final homestretch. 


Finish time - 3:43 - made the cutoff with less than 2 minutes to spare! 

Now that I have 2 Bay Swim finishes and 2 DNFs in the bank,  I suppose breaking even makes this a good time to move on. I'm not ruling out a return to the Bay some day, but for now, I see a nice lake swim with no current in my future!  

Reston 1 + 2 = 3 Mile Swim

May 23, 2015

Another swim I said I wouldn't do this year...but fear of FOMO got the best of me and I caved. A search for other open water swims this weekend turned up nothing in the area. So, Jim McDonnell it was! 

1 Mile

The 1 miler was mostly a warm up for the 2 miler and it took me a while to get in the groove. I felt tired and seemed to be going in slow motion. WTH? Maybe doing hours of yardwork the day before wasn't such a good idea. Or maybe I just suck. Whatever the case, I finished a couple minutes slower than last year.

2 Miles

I felt much better during the 2 miler. Hallelujah! I quickly got into the groove and, checking my watch a few times, felt like I was on track to beat last year's time. Great, I thought, all of the laps and the Crossfitting were going to pay off! 

But after I rounded the final turn and headed toward the finish, I was startled to hear a kayaker yelling at me to STOP. Glancing up I saw the paddle she had thrust in front of me. What the---?  She told me they were "bringing someone in." 

Looking to my left I saw what she was talking about-- a rescue boat...paramedics performing CPR on a swimmer...it didn't look good. The boat reached the shore and the rescuers began moving the swimmer from the boat to an ambulance, still working on him.  A race official yelled at me to start swimming again, so I did. 

As I stepped out of the water, the scene unfolding next to me looked dire. The race staffers told me to keep moving. A group of Team Zers ushered me over -- they were standing together nearby, watching the sober scene. The paramedics continued to work on the swimmer as a woman --maybe a relative-- sobbed next to him.  

We managed to catch a glimpse of his face as they transferred him to the ambulance and I gasped as I realized that I recognized him! He was an older man whom I spoke with briefly before the swim. We were all joking around about something, can't remember what. During the swim, we played tag for a while.  He was faster than me and would swim ahead, stop to tread water, I would pass him, and then he would swim ahead of me again. This continued until about the halfway point when I lost sight of him. 

We later found out that he had died. A sad ending to this year's Jim McDonnell and a reminder of life's unpredictability. You've gotta squeeze every last drop of adventure out of life because you just never know...

Next up:  The Bay!

Not Another Nanticoke!

May 3, 2015

 Yes, another Nanticoke. I had been planning to skip Nanticoke this year, but....well...where else would I get the open water practice?  However, I wouldn't be suffering through the 3 miler this time. In keeping with my 2015 theme of Setting Myself Up For Success, I opted for the 2 miler instead. Figured not DNFing that F'ing swim just might be a good confidence booster for the Bay.

Of course, the year I'm swimming the 2 miler is the year the conditions are uncharacteristically awesome. No small craft advisory to contend with, not a lot of chop, barely any current -- compared with the past three years, this was a Nanticoke miracle!

Adding to the Nanticoke fun this year was Carol, AKA STUR! She was more than ready to take on the 3 miler as prep for the Bay Swim.

The only negative thing I can say about the conditions this year is that the water, as usual, was c-c-c-cold! About 62 degrees. We went for a pre-swim swim to "warm up." 

Time to race! Looking at my fellow competitors, I was surprised to see such a small group this year. Where IS everyone?! 

Well...not much to report on this swim. I breezed through my single loop without incident, kicking myself for not signing up for the 3 miler instead. That'll teach me!

STUR sailed through her 3 miler, completing both loops with ease! We met up and headed for the post race BBQ - always a fun time hanging with everyone and watching the awards ceremony. And guess what? We both won! STUR picked up 3rd place in her age group (and her age group kicks butt!)

And me? I got first place in my age group! Of course, that's easy to do when you're the only one in your age group. Again, where was everybody?!

Here's a close up of the new addition to my beer pint glass collection!

Keeping it real here, despite my "easy" swim and age group "win", I didn't leave Nanticoke feeling more confident about the Bay Swim. No, I felt like a slacker. Like someone who had wimped out. Where was the go-for-it girl of year's past? Is finishing 2 miles better than trying--and possibly failing (again)--for 3? 

Maybe my 2015 Setting Myself Up For Success theme is not a good plan after all. Sure, the harder stuff makes it harder to succeed, but there's something to be said for trying and failing, and going back year after year to try again. That's what I've always done at Nanticoke...and it's what I did at the Bay Swim. This might have been the year I conquered Nanticoke, but I'll never know. Lesson learned. 

Now onward to the Bay!

Party in Paw Paw

February 14, 2015

Paw Paw, West Virginia - you just gotta love the name! And in fact, the name is the reason I chose Paw Paw for my weekend running adventure on Valentine's Day. Such a funny name, I just had to check it out.

Paw Paw is a tiny town - population 500ish - and is named for the pawpaw fruit trees that grow along the Potomac River. It's also located on the C&O Canal towpath and is "famous" for the Paw Paw Tunnel, which was built in the 1800's to create a shortcut across a 6 mile switch-backing stretch of the river.

I booked a room at a B&B and got there early to beat the icy-snow nightmare that was predicted for later in the day, then hit the towpath for a 10 mile run. The plan was to run through the tunnel and keep going for 5  miles or so, then turn around and come back. 

Buuut... the thing about the Paw Paw Tunnel is -- look how frickin' scary it looks! All boarded up with a single door--pitch black darkness for half a mile. I hadn't thought about being scared when I planned this adventure, and one look at the tunnel made me shudder. God only knows who could be in there waiting for someone to come along so they can pounce! Ay-yi-yi, this is how my mind works! Too many years covering crime in local TV news. 

But seriously, look at it. It was 20 degrees or so in mid-February and I seemed to be all alone on this path. So, what to do?

There was only one other way to get to the towpath on the other side of the Paw Paw Tunnel, and that was up and over it on the Tunnel Hill Trail. It just so happens that Tunnel Hill is the name of the 50 miler STUR and I are running in November, so I took that as a good sign.

It was a pretty scenic detour that added an extra 2 miles to my run. And while it was labeled steep and strenuous, it wasn't that bad.

About half way up  the hill I came across this helpful sign that explained it all --the name of the town, the fruit trees, the need for the tunnel... This was turning out to be an educational detour!

 That's the Potomac River below.

 The trail kept going up until finally, I could see the top. 

From there it was downhill switchbacks all the way to the towpath, where large sections were iced over. Well, it was February. What did I expect?

I ran in the grass on the side of the towpath until I found some clear dirt for running. 

My runner's high kicked in: I had this place all to myself! So quiet and peaceful and I embraced the solitude. The frozen C&O Canal looked like a river of milk.

After 10 miles it was decision time. The only way back to my car was either through the scary Paw Paw Tunnel or up the trail and over it again.

My thinking went like this:   You would be insane to go through that tunnel! WTH, Sally? It's pitch black in there! You're out here running all alone --what were you thinking, anyway? You're an idiot. Take the long way home. Your little can of pepper spray isn't going to protect you from everything. 

But then the other side of me said:  Suck it up, Sally. So, you're scared. Get over it. You can't live your life in fear. This is ridiculous! You're in a national park. Quit being so dramatic. You live in a strange world of your own creation. Face your fear and go through the damn tunnel! It's getting late, snow is on the way, and you don't have time to take the long way home.

So onward toward the tunnel I ran. The scenery leading up to it was very cool. This part of the towpath was lined on one side with huge water-runoff waterfalls! I would've missed this had I taken the trail back. I had made a good decision.

Made it to the tunnel and from this side, it didn't look quite as scary.

But at the tunnel's entrance, I waffled.  No matter how much happy talk I forced into my brain, I was scared. Shaking, shivering scared, in fact.  Hadn't been this scared in a long time. UGH.

Just hold a nice brisk pace and get through it. It's only half a mile. I stepped inside. It was even colder than outside. I kept glancing back over my shoulder, watching the light get smaller as I ran deeper into the blackness.

Half way through the cold, damp darkness, I saw a small light moving up ahead. Looked like a flashlight, someone walking toward me. It was impossible to make out what they looked like--hiker, park ranger, serial killer? Couldn't tell. Panic set in.

Gripping my pepper spray in one hand and cell phone light in the other, I pressed forward and prepared myself. It's all a mental game, Sally. Get your act together!  Fear is just an emotion. You're choosing to be afraid. Make a different choice. 

I decided to be angry instead. Angry that we live in a world where a single female has to feel scared running alone. Pissed at all the times I've had to modify my plans in the interest of safety. I was going to conquer my fear in this stupid tunnel.  

The light got closer and I could hear the shuffling footsteps of the approaching stranger. I moved as close to the railing as I could get. Heck, if I have to, I can jump in the canal and swim for it!  

But a dramatic getaway wasn't needed. The stranger shuffled past without uttering a word. I said nothing, either. Just picked up my pace and ran toward the light at the end of the tunnel, glancing over my shoulder just in case.

It feels silly, as I write this, to think of how scared I was.

The snowfall the night before made for an icy drive home.  On the way, I made a side trip for a quick run on the towpath in Hancock. With a wind chill of minus 8, it turned out to be a very quick run!

The Potomac River and the canal were mostly frozen.

Not wanting my adventure to end, I made another side trip to check out the towpath at Point of Rocks and found a river of ice! Pretty dramatic stuff.

One day I'll be back to run a longer section of the C&O Canal towpath as I train for Tunnel Hill. You can bet I'll be carrying my pepper spray and watching for strangers, but I'm not going to let fear alter my route.