Running Raw

Breakfast 7:00am – 3 hours before race start – 2 bananas

Less than 24 hours after having returned home from the Greylock Glen Snowshoe race, I found myself back on the road to compete in the 4th WMAC/Dion Snowhoes series race – Brave The Blizzard in Guilderland, NY

Upon transitioning from the winter wonderland of Vermont into New York’s more temperate Hudson Valley, a color flashed into my mind – Brown. Brown as in dead grass, leafless trees and leaf covered forest floors. Brown as in no snow. The only white to be seen were the sparsely placed, white washed colonial farm houses that decorated my morning’s drive.

I was considering turning around. My legs were pretty tired from the hills the day before, and I didn’t want to be running a trail race on frozen, uneven ground (a sure fire recipe for injury). Race Director, John Kinnicut assured me on the phone that there was sufficient snow to hold a snowshoe race. So I half heartedly forged on towards Albany. As I neared the race site, there was not a patch of white to be seen anywhere. I made a right hand turn into the elementary school parking lot and suddenly I was faced with a snow covered field. I sat in amazement for a second in my car before continuing on to the back of the school for parking. Lo and behold, there was plenty of snow behind the school as well, where the race would start and finish.

My CMS teammates Dave Dunham and Jim Johnson were just finishing their warmup as I walked towards registration. Dave told me that it was going to be a track meet out there. Super fast, hard packed conditions. Jim won this race in 2009, where he outclassed a very strong field by nearly two minutes. His streak of victories still unbroken this year, he hoped for another solid win on this flatter, faster  course.

I did a brief warmup and spotted Justin Bishop doing some strides in the field. He looked fast. Justin is one of the top runners in New York State and a 12 time gold medalist at the Empire State Games in snowshoeing. He also holds the American record in the Snowshoe 400 meter dash – 66 seconds! If anyone was going to threaten Jim’s winning streak, it was Justin. I was disappointed that I would not be able to witness the epic battle that would take place between these two snowshoeing greats.

Brave the Blizzard is one of the largest snowshoe races in the country, so I was sure that there were a lot of other top athletes in the mix today. The Albany Running Exchange, which puts on the event, boasts over 800 members, many of whom are active in the racing scene.

Jim, Dave and I did a few strides in the field as we waited for the start. I informed them of Justin’s presence and gave them a quick rundown of his resume. Jim became a little anxious.

We were lined up in the field and John Kinnicut gave us some last minute instructions. He informed us that there were a few “bare” patches out on the course and that we would be bushwhacking upon leaving the field at the start and on the return to the finish.

Ready, set, BANG! We were off. Justin shot out like a rocket propelled grenade. I was an immediately distant second. Above the loud cluster-crunching sound of hundreds of snowshoes kicking snow into the air I could hear Jim Johnson’s voice. “This is the worst race start I’ve ever had!” Then like a rabbit he shot by me in hot pursuit of Justin. Jim had no intention of staining his winning streak with a loss at this race.

When I was a kid in the early 70’s, my parents would take us to the beach on Cape Cod in Massachusetts. On one such trip, they took their eyes off of me for a moment and then looked up to discover that I had walked straight into the ocean and was about to go in over my head. I was two. Not much has changed in the nearly 40 years since that incident. I’m still getting in over my head on a regular basis. Perhaps I’m just not that bright. Whatever the case may be, I found myself sprinting to catch up to Justin and Jim.

As we left the field I had closed the gap and was right on Jim’s heels, who was right on Justin’s heels. The trail ended abruptly and we burst into the woods. Red ribbons tied to branches led us on a circuitous route up a very steep climb. We jumped over downed logs, danced around exposed rocks, straddled saplings and got whipped in the face, arms, neck and shoulders by the recoil of branches bent in front of us. I put my arms up to protect my face, like a boxer. After a few hundred feet of literally ‘breaking trail’ we were dumped out onto a more traveled route. The snow had been chopped up by walkers and skiers some time earlier and had frozen into a very solid, uneven mine field of ankle twisting possibilities. Justin did not slow down. He is a large man with broad muscular shoulders and he looked like a steam engine, confidently and effortlessly demonstrating power, speed and efficiency. Had their been anyone behind me, their view would not have been as striking. The breakneck pace was taking it’s toll on me.

The trail came to a T. A strategically placed snowman blocked the branch to the left, forcing us to make a sharp right. Brown flashed into my mind again. The path ahead was barren of snow and presented us with a mix of frozen sand and ice. The cleats of our snowshoes could not penetrate this tawny concrete, so they delivered their force upwards into the balls of our feet. Justin slowed. I moved back into contact. The sound of metal cleats bouncing off of the unforgiving trail surface rattled in my ears. The hard ground rattled my bones. In the distance, a blanket of white comfort lay in wait. We surged towards it, eager for this cacophony to end.

For the next mile, the scene remained the same. Justin commanding the lead, Jim on his heels and me holding on for dear life. Ahead of us a set of wooden stairs interrupted the smoothness of the snowy trail. Justin and Jim powered up like antelope. I lumbered up like a bison. I had bitten off more than I could chew and now it was time to digest the consequences of my earlier choices. I could only hope that I had enough in reserve to stay in 3rd as I drifted back and away from the leaders.

Letting them go took the pressure off. I relaxed a bit and began to run my own race. Who was I kidding anyways, these two men were in another league. It was time to accept the facts and settle into my rightful place. I was feeling more comfortable now and was confident that I could maintain this slower pace and hold on to my position. Fifty meters ahead of me Justin and Jim were blazing away. Forty-five meters. Forty meters. Thirty-five meters. Wait a minute… was I catching back up to them? I checked my breathing, moved it into my diaphragm, relaxed and lengthened my stride, smiled and set out to reinstate my place in the lead pack. Within minutes I was only 5 seconds back. Jim heard me coming and turned around. He didn’t like what he saw. I heard him say something to Justin and then turn around again. I was now only 4 seconds back and gaining fast.  Moments later I was on Jim’s heels.

We were coming close to the finish and Jim didn’t want another repeat sprint to the line like we had in Woodford a few weeks earlier. So he took off around Justin and made a break. Justin couldn’t keep up. For a moment, I thought about chasing after Jim but I was hurting again. The extra effort to bridge the gap had taken it’s toll, but now the seemingly indestructible Mr. Bishop was hurting as well. We hurtled through the woods with Jim quickly pulling away. Pressure was building in my stomach. My legs were teetering on the brink of failure. I was redlining.

Suddenly we were back on the bushwhack. The field and finish were in view. Jim had just cleared the woods and had entered the field. Justin picked up the pace as we headed down the steep grade through the trees. I got whipped hard in the face with a branch as I tried to keep up. I made a quick survey of the ground and then closed my eyes, lowered my head and charged forward.

As we entered the field, Justin was one step ahead. Jim was about 10 seconds up on us now and sprinting for the line. Justin opened up his gear box and pulled out his tremendous sprinting speed. I watched in awe, agony and defeat as he easily pulled away from the fastest gut bursting sprint I could muster. Seconds later we would be keeled over, breathlessly congratulating each other and sharing embraces. Jim had won by nine seconds in a time of 24:44. Justin took second in 24:53 and I posted a close third in 24:57. CMS teammate Dave Dunham would finish fourth, in 26:58.

All too often we predetermine our position in life and then act accordingly. Or we simply let others determine it for us and then do our best to meet their expectations, whether high or low. We set arbitrary limitations for ourselves and then view them as law. As fact. Any sensible person would tell you that a 41 year old Tim VanOrden, running 25 to 30 miles a week cannot compete with a 32 year old Jim Johnson running 80 miles a week… Or a 28 year old Justin Bishop, training hours a day for the World Double Decathlon Championships. Thankfully, I am not a sensible person. I have never accepted my place or rank as assigned. I always aspire to more. Nine times out of ten, I fail miserably. But it is that one time, when I rise to the occasion and beat the odds that makes it all worthwhile… and it reminds me that on any given day we are all capable of greatness – if we allow ourselves to leave our sensibility behind and risk it all for something we believe in.

Dare mighty things.

“Argue for your limitations, and sure enough they’re yours.” – Richard Bach

The first potluck of the Berkshires of MA, Southern VT and the Capital Region of NY (BeVeNe) was a huge success. Fifteen great people attended our first event, which was hosted by Michael and Ginger Menard in Pittsfield, MA. There was plenty of great food and fun conversation. Raw picnics and hikes will be happening in the very near future. Click here to be a part of this group.

After a lengthy interview with a reporter from the Wall Street Journal in the Spring of 2008 about being a vegan athlete, I suggested that he also get in touch with NFL star Tony Gonzalez. When the article went to press, I discovered that raw vegan athletes (myself and Brendan Brazier) had been eliminated and Mr. Gonzalez had become the bread and butter of the story (flax bread and almond butter). Well, a year later I was approached by a different reporter with the WSJ who wanted to do a story on snowshoe racing. It went to press this morning and the raw vegan movement was represented at last

Click HERE to read the full story in the WSJ.

Although it had only been 3 days since my race up Whiteface Mtn., When Josh Merlis of the Albany Running Exchange invited me check out a trail race in the Catskill Mountains of New York I couldn’t say no. Growing up in Southern Vermont, the Catskills had always held a magical lure for me. It was the place of legends. The headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow, Rip Van Winkle, The Mohawk Indians and many others. This area is only an hour and a half from my childhood home, but I had never spent any time there.

It was also an opportunity to meet ultra running legend Dick Vincent, who was hosting the race at his house atop a cliff overlooking the Hudson River Valley. Dick is also the director of the infamous Escarpment Trail Run which is reputed to be one of the most dangerous and challenging races in the U.S.

As we all stood there bouncing around at the start receiving our directions, the race director informed us that this was black bear habitat and that we should be on the lookout to avoid close encounters. The racer to my left informed me that they had seen two bears at the very start of the race last year.

I decided to bring a camera along in the race to document the challenging nature of the course, and perhaps catch a bear in action. When the starter yelled “go” I took a mid-pack position and filmed the racers around me as we got underway. After a few minutes I picked up the pace. Josh had informed me that the course climbed over 1,300 feet in 2.25 miles, but the first 3/4 of a mile was relatively flat, meaning that the bulk of the climb would take place in 1.5 miles – a much steeper climb than I had anticipated.

The trail was a narrow single track over slippery rocks and wet leaves. Every step was treacherous. Fallen logs across the trail made the going even more dangerous. I was pushing the pace hard, using this race as a hard effort in attempt to peak for Mt. Washington in a few weeks time.

As I neared the summit I could see someone moving on the trail ahead of me. I thought they must be trying to beat me to the finish to take pictures. I was surprised at how quickly they were moving as my best effort could not catch them. It wasn’t until I burst onto the summit finding myself all alone that I realized that the person dressed in black, was no person at all, but a black bear that I had been chasing for two hundred meters.

I caught my breath standing on a cliff overlooking the valley below. The view of the Catskills and the Hudson Valley were breathtaking. It had been quite some time that I had been standing there and yet no one else had come to the finish yet. For a moment I thought I must have taken a wrong turn and was now lost. Eventually, the next runner came in, and then another and another. We all sat around sharing trail stories and taking turns sitting in the giant stone chairs that someone had carefully made near the cliff’s edge many years ago.

Upon returning to Dick Vincent’s house for post race refreshments and awards I was informed that I had broken the course record. Next year I’ll have to take the start more seriously and leave the camera behind.

Dick’s announcement of my course record, and my Running Raw jacket brought an onslaught of questions. I was more than happy to share my experience with raw foods. As it turned out, a few people in attendance had tried a raw diet, and there were a few vegans on hand as well. Overall, the crowd was quite receptive to my sharing. Even Josh Merlis became a little curious on the ride home.

When the van arrived back in Albany, I took Josh shopping for an evening snack. He told me that he had never shopped in the produce aisle before. Well, it wasn’t long before I had him eating guacamole and carrot sticks, chased down by some grapes and nectarines… baby steps, baby steps.

See the video for the High Rock Race HERE.

June 1st was a busy day for racing in the Northeast. Among the numerous events being contested were the New England 5k Road Championships in Rhode Island, the Pack Monadnock 10 miler (the 2nd race in the LaSportiva Mtn. Cup Series) in New Hampshire and the Whiteface Mtn. Uphill Foot Race in New York. I wanted to do all three, but I haven’t yet mastered the art of co-location so I had to chose. After consulting with my friend and “mentor” Dave Dunham, I decided to head to the Adirondacks of NY to race up Whiteface. Dave told me that this race would be great preparation for Mt. Washington. Whiteface is an 8 mile race, whereas Mt. Washington is 7.6 miles. Whiteface has a constant grade of 8% climb, and Washington averages 11% grade. The Whiteface race has been described as a medium Mt. Washington. This race would be more a test of my mental readiness for the big W than of my physical readiness. Last year at the Mt. Washington race I started way too fast and was crumpled in a vomiting heap by the 3rd mile. Mountain races are very different than regular road races; a pace that seems comfortable for the first mile can ruin you by the second mile. It’s about pacing, patience and staying far away from redlining. Then there’s the issue of pain management, you can’t forget that part – are you tough enough to endure intense, unending pain for an hour or more? Whiteface was my chance to find out.

The day before the race, I drove to Montreal to pick up Tera Warner, my new partner in the Running Raw Project. For those of you that don’t know Tera yet, she is a voice for empowering women with raw foods on her site www.therawdivas.com. But more importantly she is a ball of red-headed energy that would cheer me on and film me as I came across the finish line.

Whiteface Mountain, in Wilmington, NY is 4,867′ high, ranking it as the 5th highest mountain in New York State. The mountain gained international fame in 1980 when it hosted the alpine skiing events of the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid, NY. So it is only fitting that for the last few years, this race has been dominated by 2 time Olympian Duncan Douglas. Duncan has been one of the top athletes in the US for cross country skiing and biathlon since the late 80’s and has won numerous national championships. He’s as tough as they get, and this was his home turf.

The field of athletes assembled on the starting line was intimidating. There were many top athletes from around the Northeast. Also of note on the line was 2 time Olympic Marathon trials qualifier Mike Slinskey. Mike’s PR for the marathon is 2:15.

From the start line we could see dark ominous clouds enveloping the summit several thousand feet above us. It could get real nasty up there and I was concerned about what we might face above tree line.

The first mile found Duncan, Mike and myself all running comfortably at 7:30/mile pace and leaving the rest of the pack behind. The next two miles found the three of us pulling even farther ahead. I was feeling good. My heart rate was low and my breathing was comfortable, so I decided to make a move. Duncan matched my move and then some. He picked up the pace significantly. It was more than I was willing to commit to at this early stage so I let him pull away. Mike was drifting farther back. I thought Duncan might eventually tire of the new pace and I’d reel him in, so I stayed where I was in a solid second place slot.

There is a saying about the best laid plans… well, my legs had other plans for me on this day. Somewhere around the mile 5 mark, they gave out. Even though my heart rate and breathing were still comfortable, my legs had just had enough. I struggled to keep the pace for another half mile and then backed off. By mile 6 Duncan had moved well ahead, there was no catching him. The temperature had dropped quite a bit and I was getting cold. The wind was picking up. My legs were getting weaker and weaker with each step. Mile 7 came much too slowly and brought with it the sound of Mike Slinskey’s feet pattering the pavement right behind me. As he passed we introduced each other and shared a moment to talk about the intense wind that was picking up and how cold it was getting. Then he pulled away. I tried to stay with him, but he was edging ever so slowly ahead of me and there was nothing I could do about it.

With half a mile to go the wind above tree line was blowing so intensely (50mph gusts) that I felt like I was being pushed backwards and making no progress at all. The temperature had plummeted into the 30’s and my hands were stinging cold. My back began to spasm from the cold as well. Mike had disappeared into the fog ahead of me. It was the detoughest, coldest, longest half mile I’ve ever run. Then out of the fog a finish line appeared, and cheers could be heard above the screeching of the wind. I was done.

As I warmed myself and re-fueled in the stone castle on top of the mountain, I could see Duncan, outside on the summit platform still in his wet race t-shirt embracing the wind. There are few like him in the world.

My main source of post race fuel was a HUGE bag of sprouted buckwheat granola that I had made the day before. When Duncan came in from the cold I offered some to him. He was skeptical at first, but quickly found it to his liking. After a long conversation with him about diet and performance, I looked down to see that the bag was empty. Perhaps I’ve planted another seed.

I was not the only one on the mountain today spreading the word of raw power. Lauren Warren (who I’ve blogged about before) finished 2nd in the women’s field and helped to solidify the raw vegan presence at this event.

As we all sat around talking about our trials on the mountain, Tera whipped out a box of her homemade chocolate lime balls… wow!! They were a hit… you’ll have to go to her site and get the recipe.

Reflecting on the race on the drive home, I’m not sure what caused the weakness in my legs. Was it lack of mountain training? Improper pre-race fueling? The cold? Or just a bad day. Whatever the case, I hope I can address the situation before Mt. Washington arrives. To lose my legs there would be disastrous.

See the video for the Whiteface Mountain Race HERE.

And you can access interviews with Lauren and myself HERE

As a kid growing up in rural Bennington, VT, my first city experience was in Albany, NY. It was only a 45 minute drive away, but to a farm kid it was a completely different planet. In the 1970’s Albany, the capital of New York State, was a booming city. The state funded an enormous development project right in the heart of downtown which is known as the Empire State Plaza. There are many buildings in the Plaza, but two have stood out to become symbols of Albany’s distinctive skyline: The Egg and the Corning Tower. The Egg is an oddly shaped building that resembles a flying saucer in mid flight, it houses a performance arts space. The Corning Tower at 42 storeys high, is the tallest building in New York State outside of New York City. I remember making the drive to Albany as a kid and staring up at the Corning Tower. It just seemed to go up and up forever.

Truth be told, the Empire State Building race really took a toll on me physically and emotionally. The minor cold that I had experienced leading up to the race had turned into a full on Nyquil commercial after the race. The smart thing, was to go back home and rest for 4 or 5 days. But for those of you who’ve been following this blog for any length of time will know, that I seldom do the smart thing. So only two days after running up the Empire State Building, I found myself coughing and sneezing on the start line of the Corning Tower race. I mean come on, how could I pass up a race on my home turf, in my adopted city, in a building that inspired me as a small child? I just had to do it.

When I arrived at the tower, I was enthusiastically greeted by a man named Eddie. He had seen me filming at my first snowshoe race in Woodfood, VT in December and went to my site to find out what I might be doing. Well, he’s been following my journey ever since. The video that I posted on YouTube of the Empire State Building race start really piqued Eddie’s interest. So when he saw that there was going to be a race not far from where he lives in NY, he thought he would give it a try. We chatted for a bit and I gave him some tower racing tips – two steps at at time, always pull the railings with both hands, don’t start out too hard, and take water at the stops to soothe your throat. A moment later I was again being greeted by some Running Raw fans. Lauren and Michelle had made the 45 minute drive from near Kingston, NY to meet me and try their very first tower race. They both shared their stories of being raw and how it has affected them (watch the video) and really inspired me to grow this movement quickly.

This was not a mass start race. Racers were sent off in 5 second intervals – by number. My number was 142. There was no elite start, which meant that I was going to be the 142nd person to run through the door and there were going to be a LOT of people for me to pass. It took a while to get the race started, so I started running back and forth very quickly in the long lobby where all the racers were lined up… it was too cold to run outside. I noticed that I was the only one moving or warming up… which I thought was very odd… but apparently everyone thought that I was the odd one for using up energy before the race began. A state trooper stopped me and said, “you’d better save your energy son, this is a very tall building.”, I thanked him and smiled and continued to sprint back and forth as everyone gave me strange looks and commented on my “Powered By Raw Food” running singlet. I later found out that the man standing next to Lauren had said about me “that guys gonna get last place if he keeps that up”. It amazes me that people don’t understand the critical importance of a warmup. Especially in a race that requires a very sudden thrust into a great deal of physical stress. If your body is not warm and your heart rate elevated prior to the start, the gradient that your body’s systems must travel can have adverse effects on performance and enjoyment of the race.

At long last it was time for me to start. I jogged off the start line and took the first few floors at a comfortable pace to let the adrenalin settle. I did NOT want to repeat my Milwaukee or Empire State Building Race. After the second floor, I shifted into high gear, strong and steady. There were a lot of slow people in my path. Most of the time I could easily get around one or two, but on many occassions they would be two abreast with someone directly in front of them, so there was no where for me to get through. I’d call out that I was coming through, but several people didn’t move. So I just had to push my way through. I didn’t really notice the Empire State Building in my legs until the 25th floor, it was then that I noticed the deep ache of a previous workout or race. When I hit the 32nd floor, I had only 10 to go. I was feeling very strong, so i decided to put the hammer down and sprint the last 10 floors. I managed to get through about 4 at a half sprint as the people started to pile up on the higher floors. It seems the people get slower and slower the higher they get in a tower race, and their ability to move out of the way becomes hampered as well.They are just doing their best to stay up and keep moving. In a few spots people were sitting down on the landings. I managed to squeak out some extra speed for a few more floors, and then I hit the 39th. I was ready to explode up the final 3 floors, but there were so many people in front of me that I found myself trapped behind them just waiting and jogging in place and probably saying something like “OUT OF MY WAY!!”. The 42nd floor was the slowest of all as I was stuck behind 6 people who were on death’s door. When we reached the final landing, I pushed through them and burst down the hall to the finish. I was frustrated. I looked down at my watch, it read 4:54. The course record for this building was 5:00. I was even more frustrated, as I knew I could have put the record way out of reach and made all you raw vegans proud. But it was a great effort considering the circumstances, my intense cold and well, running up a building twice as tall two days earlier.

My new course record was not a new course record. The man who had reserved bib #1 and had been first through the door had beaten me by 10 seconds, and set a new course record of 4:44. He is a top local road racer and had run 5:00 the year before in this race. He really wanted this record, and it meant a lot to him. So I’m glad he got it. I was happy with second place, and being one of only two people in 20 years to break the 5 minute mark on this iconic tower of my youth.

As for Eddie, Lauren and Michelle, they are all hooked. I’ll be seeing them at all the tower races in the North East I’m sure, if not the rest of the country.

Click HERE to watch the video.

The second race in the WMAC snowshoe series was held in Guilderland, NY, just a few miles outside of the state capitol Albany, NY. This is the 5th year of this event, and the first time in those 5 years that there has been snow to run on. This winter bounty attracted an excited crowd from all over the Northeast to take on this challenging 4 mile course.

Once again I showed up with my dad’s big old clunker snowshoes, hoping that the added weight and size wouldn’t slow me down that much. But as luck would have it, I bumped into Dave Dunham in the parking lot who happened to have 4 extra pair of racing shoes in his trunk – the perks of being a sponsored athlete. Dave was kind enough to lend me a pair and I was ready to go.

The Albany Running Exchange, the club that put on the race, pulled out all the stops. They had a full on snowshoeing expo in gym of the elementary school adjacent to the course. You could test all kinds of gear, get a massage, fill up on a pancake breakfast, purchase A.R.E. clothing, hang out with a snowman mascot, etc. Did I mention the throngs of smiling people? This was my kind of race.

The start of the race was through an unpacked field with about 10 inches of heavy, wet snow covering the ground. I noticed Dave Dunham meticulously walking back and forth along a single path perpendicular to the start line. What I discovered after the start, was that Dave was packing a trail for himself to use out of the gate. While we were all trampling through the deep wet snow, Dave was running on a packed trail. Now why didn’t I think of that? Despite the sludgy start, I managed to come out of the mess in second place behind Dave as we entered the single track through the woods. My goal: Stay with Dave as long as I could – he was the man to beat, or should I say, he was the man to pull me to a great performance.

The pace seemed slow to me and I was barely laboring, but we were pulling away from the pack. I didn’t want to pass as I thought maybe I’d tire out too quickly, so I just tucked in behind Dave and relaxed. Near the one mile point we were caught by another racer who joined the lead train. The three of us ran the next two and a half miles on eachother’s heels. Past a hundred cheering fans along the course, and even a young girl who was building snowmen to block the trails we were to avoid.

Dave’s shoes were a little different than I was used to and landed at a bit of an angle, which caused me to crack my ankle bones with the hard aluminum frames every 100 steps or so causing my ankles to swell and bruise. If it weren’t for my recent reading of “The New Toughness Training For Sports”, I’m sure I would have let out a scream each time it happened (note to self: wear ankle pads).

I was starting to tire. The course seemed to go on forever with no end in sight. We were told that it was a 5k, but I had a feeling that we had reached that point a while back. I could sense Dave slowing in front of me as well, and later learned that he was also wondering when this thing was going to end. He had the added burden of running the entire race with someone (me) six inches off his heels, which is a huge psychological weight to carry. Finally, the racer behind me said “on your right” as he burst around me through the deep snow. I was in no mood for a duel, so I let him in. We remained a chain of three, but now I was in 3rd. The “easy” victory that I was savoring in the early stages of the race had vanished. Two hundred yards further and the racer in the middle called “on your right” to Dave. But Dave was in a spunkier mood than I was and he sped up. He was not going to let this kid win easily, he was going to make him earn it. Dave’s increased speed was more than I could handle now, and the two of them drifted slowly away from me. Another hundred yards and the racer tried again, but this time he unleashed a fury of flying snow as he launched by Dave’s best effort to stave him off. I could see the field containing the finish line through the trees ahead, it must have been only a quarter mile to the finish. The lead runner was still sprinting and getting farther ahead of us as we entered the field. Dave kicked enough to keep me from catching back up and crossed the line in 2nd. I finished 3rd, only seven seconds behind him. The winner turned out to be the founder of the Albany Running Exchange, Josh Merlis. Had we known the course as well as he did, perhaps we would have had some extra mental steam to get us through the dragging later parts.

Goal for next race: Don’t tuck in behind anyone – go for it and see how long I can hang on to the lead.

Click HERE to see the video.

After a grueling race up Mt. Washington, my family thought it would be a good idea for me to get away and relax at our camp in the Aridondack Park of New York. It’s a trip back in time as I explore a magical part of the country that still embraces many of the ideals and styles of the 19th century.

Clike HERE to see the video.