Bimbler's Bluff 50K!

Guilford, CT
Sunday, October 23, 2017

Background:  I have had an ultra in my sights for the past few years.  Wrote it down formally as a 2017 goal back in January.  It's easy to have a lofty goal; it's executing on it that requires just a tad more work and commitment.  Feeling good with my running over the summer and into the fall, I took the next step of running a "Bimbler's Bite" in late September.  This was a 15-mile group run preview of the toughest part of the course, and while it was tough, it was the confidence I needed to go ahead and register.

Pre-race:  I had spent the evening before re-reading Crutch's and Seth's prior year race reports; both were helpful in painting a picture of the race and potential pitfalls. Given a race start of 8am and an hour ride to Guilford, CT, I left the house in the dark at 6am.  I was a bundle of nerves as I pulled into the parking lot at Guilford Lakes Elementary School, the start and finish of the race.  At the time, it was 53 degrees.  As I walked from my car to registration, I heard my name called out.  Turning, I saw it was Rob Buttermore calling me from his vehicle.  I went over to talk to him and this definitely had a calming effect.  After checking in, I retreated back to the car to decide on final garb (short shorts and a singlet), affix bib, and fill up my CamelBak.  Not wanting to make it too heavy, I opted for 24 ounces of Gatorade, and put 6 GU packets into one of the pockets.  Good to go.  On to the start line, where I spent time catching up with additional familiar faces:  Stan Mickus, Kenny Shardlow, Crutch, Eric Winn, and Molly (a fast NH runner that I had met at the Bimbler's Bite a few weeks back).

With Stan, just before race
start, at national anthem.

The stick - going up:  I suppose I should start out explaining what is meant by the "stick":

Lollipop course:  Starting at the bottom of this pic,
you make your way up the stick (~ 9 miles), before running the
lollipop head CW (~14 miles), and then making your way
back down the stick to the finish (~9 miles).
Each blue pin represents an aid station.

The race started immediately after the national anthem, and we first ran around a small school field to help spread out before entering single-track across the street.  I heeded advice that you want to get out to the single-track fast to avoid being stuck in a jam of runners, but I overdid it going out fast.  Rob went out in 2nd and I hung just behind him for the first half-mile or so, before I pulled ahead of him.  It felt odd and wrong to be in 2nd place, but that didn't last long, and when a runner went past me quickly about a mile in, I somehow felt relieved.

The course was well marked at all intersections ...

... and orange streamers as "confidence markers" were
very much appreciated, especially as no one was near for
the vast majority of the race.
(Note all pics in this post are from Bimbler FB page,
except the three up-close pics of me, which I
purchased from the race photographer.)

At about Mile 3, someone came right up behind me and stayed on my shoulder.  The trail opened up to double-track and eventually my competitor came up next to me for a while.  His name was Chris, from NH, had a similar running experience of going from road marathons gradually into trails, but he had already run a 50-miler and had his sights on a 100-miler.  Chris and I ran and talked for the next few miles until he started to pull away about Mile 7 and I made the decision to let him go and he was quickly out of sight.  Being my first 50K, I really had no idea how to pace.  I knew I could I run faster than this, but took it conservative with fears of crashing later in the race.

Crossing Route 80 about 3 mile in,
with Chris in tow

Lollipop:  I was really happy to reach the base of the lollipop, and start on this section.  I knew it would be the toughest section, but mentally it allowed me to also check off that I was done with the stick upward section.  Once I hit the lollipop, the double-track was done, and twisty, hilly single-track began pretty much immediately.  After meandering up, down, and around rock piles, we cross Route 77 and enter the Mile 10 Bluffs Head aid station.  I'm reminded that I'm in 4th place, and I can hear the cowbells ringing signaling that the 5th place runner is coming in behind me now, so I down a drink, grab a couple of chocolate chip cookies, and saunter off to begin my climb.

Coming into the Mile 10 aid station

Mile 10:  Mix of snack food and drink

Mile 11 is a 400' climb up Bluff's Head with some loose, rocky scree.  I run as long as I comfortably can, but then find myself power-hiking two of the steeper sections.  You spend about three miles running at the top of the bluff, before you start some steep descents.  After descending off the Bluff at about Mile 14 and onto the Lone Pine Trail, I see another runner up ahead.  It's Chris (the guy I ran with miles 3-6) coming back to me!  As I get closer, I hear "Is that Jeff?", and as I go past him, I heard off some words of encouragement.  Shortly after this, I run into a couple of hikers with a map and ask if I can help.  (Obviously they have no idea I'm in the middle of a race.)  I apologized, saying that I was from out of state and didn't know the area.  (I wouldn't have stopped and jeopardized my race anyway, but hopefully my version sounded kinder.)

It's easy to get distracted while running on top of the bluff,
with distant valley views

Next, I head into the aid station "Braeburn" at Mile 16, re-crossing Route 77.  At this aid station, I stop a little longer and take off and hand over my CamelBak to a kind volunteer that refills it for me, while I scarf down some Fig Newtons.  I guestimate that I was stopped for a full 90 seconds, yet I must have put distance on Chris, as I left the aid station before he came in.

A runner leaving the Mile 16 aid station

Leaving the Mile 16 aid station, other than an immediate climb, the next few miles of terrain are much easier.  At exit 18, we exit onto a dirt road for a while.  There are several people out walking, some with leashed dogs, none making any effort to get out of my way, and all who seem oblivious that there is a race going on.  We exit the dirt road for single-track, and a hiker coming my way asks me how to get to "the pond".  I guess I can't blame him if he has no idea I'm in a race (isn't the bib a clue?), but I just remember my patience getting rather thin about now.

At Mile 21, I can see the pond/marsh that we circumnavigate, and from my training run, it reminds me that I'm getting close to the Renee's Way aid station at Mile 22.  There are many home-made signs along the trail as we get close, everything from "You're approaching the best aid station in the world!" to good luck to so and so.  I remember Renee's Way aid station well.  The volunteers were very upbeat and shouted "there's a runner coming!".    One woman offered me soup.  Soup!  Yes, I like soup, but how does one eat soup on the run?  I politely decline, saying the temperature is too hot for me already (it was getting very warm by now).  Another volunteer asked me at least to try one of their famous pickles, which I also declined, saying I didn't want to try anything different mid-race.  I was probably at this aid station for less than 30 seconds, as I grabbed a single cookie, a cup of water, thanked the volunteers and got to keep moving.  I felt really good through here, like I could easily run another 10 miles.  Little did I know ...

Mile 22:  Yes, despite temps in the 70s, there really was soup served.
Appreciative of all the volunteers and offerings, but soup didn't fit for me.

The cheery aid station volunteers and various offerings.

After Renee's Way aid station, it was only another mile back to the end of the lollipop and the return to the top of the "stick".  There was one guy, not in the race, running towards me on the trail, saying I was looking good and in 3rd place.  I had forgotten that this mile was technical and that a number of rock gardens awaited me. 

The stick - return to finish:  I rejoiced as I started my way back down the stick.  It was a net downhill and a "mere" 9 miles to the finish now.  Unfortunately, I was now having a full bladder issue with a "sloshing" feeling in my stomach.  I sucked it up for another couple of miles, but it was getting really uncomfortable, so at about Mile 25, I just stopped on the side of the trail.  If felt so good to pee (is that weird?  is that TMI?), but there was a cost to pay.  After stopping this time, it was just so hard for me to get going.  I felt like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz; the legs just did not want to move.   For the next few miles, on terrain that I had been running 8-minute pace on the way up, I was now running 10 minute pace.  By Mile 27, I was completely ready to be done.  Why couldn't this "just" be a marathon?  My pace continued to slow, and while I'm proud that other than the steepest sections of Bluff Head climb, I had run everything up until now, I found that on two hills of a mere 50-80' climb, I lacked the energy/motivation to do anything but walk the hills.

There was a lot of creaking and groaning coming from my legs,
but not much forward inertia.

One more problem:  it's very warm by now (thankfully I opted for the singlet!), I'm feeling dehydrated, and my CamelBak is almost dry.  WHERE THE HELL IS THAT AID STATION?!!  At Mile 29, I sense a person coming right up on me.  My slowing and walking had cost me and the wolves are now upon me.  My watch shows 29.7 miles as the final aid station comes into sight.  I stop and see that it's Molly that has caught me.  Wow, is she strong!  (She will later tell me that she felt bad for me at the final aid station, as she said I didn't look good.)  There are only 2 miles left, and I know that I should just continue, but I'm out of water and parched, and I ask the volunteers to fill just 1/4 of my hydration pack and I grab a brownie (yes, a brownie!) and wave Molly on.  She says she'll see me in a few minutes.

Mile 29:  Costumed aid station volunteers.  Thanks for the much needed pack refill!

Fun aid station!

With my pack partially filled with water, I saunter on.  I'm just kind of shuffling my feet along, probably nearly scuffing them on the ground.  Until I trip on a rock and fall.  I get up and get going ... into a ROCK GARDEN!  This was acceptable even as late as mile 23, but NOT at Mile 31!  This is just cruel!  It's a real effort for me to pick my feet up and over the rocks.   I can hear traffic on a road and know we're getting really close.  I can also hear someone behind me now, and although I have next to nothing left, I hobble faster, get across the finish line, and hold off my next pursuer by 17 seconds.  FINISHED!!!  50K in the bag!

A sight for sore eyes!

Final results:  4th overall of 134 finishers on the day (10 would either drop out or be pulled from the course for not making time cutoffs).  1st in age group.  Full results here.

Post-race:  There was a cadre of volunteers at the finish line, but in particular Michelle was like an angel to me.  With only three finishers ahead of me, I got some focused attention (unsolicited but very much appreciated!).  I must not have looked good, as she came right over and took my arm to keep walking as we made a couple laps under the shaded canopy (it was direct sun and about 74 degrees now).  The cold water she served me tasted like nectar of the gods, and the chocolate milk was heavenly and restorative.  I followed that up with a slice of cheese pizza and an apple, before finally taking off my shoes and socks and plopping in a chair that she had set up.  I hung around for about 45 minutes total, alternating between standing, sitting, and lying down.  When I was finally leaving, she picked up all my stuff, even my filthy shoes and socks, and brought them over to my car and put them inside!  She said she was a veteran race volunteer (which I can believe!) and her husband was still out in the race.

A hat and glass for finishing,
and an apple pie for winning my age group!

I said good-bye to my new NH competitors Molly and Chris, who finished two minutes ahead of and behind me, respectively, Rob Buttermore, and Kenny Shardlow who had just finished his 6th Bimblers 50K.  I would have liked to have seen Stan and Crutch come in, but was feeling uncomfortable, and felt good enough to drive now.  A very sore and mildly painful afternoon followed, but I basked in the delight of finishing my first 50K race and placing well on top of it all.