15K -The Dirt

Me before the race, notice the complete lack of knowing any better.

The Report:

Oh, the horror.

Let's start with the time zone screw up. Yes, mine, thank you. Thinking this race was an hour ahead of me, I got up extra early, got my stuff together and proceeded to drive an hour to the race. I arrived to find no one even remotely resembling anyone interested in doing any sort of physical activity this morning, let alone run a 15K up and over the peaks of Hell. So, I promptly took this opportunity to burn the extra hour with yet more freaking out about the devastation I was about to inflict upon my knee.

Eventually people started to arrive for late registration, and one guy in particular (who looked a little like Sting, as a matter of fact) came over to my car and asked where the heck everyone was. I told him that the race didn't start for an hour, and he was quite surprised - it appeared that he had a FUBAR-ed time situation this morning, too. He thought the race started earlier, which wasn't as catastrophically moronic as my time zone debacle, so, thus we compared our mutual stupidness for the next 10 minutes.

Turned out that he was a veteran of this course and upon finding out that it was my first time to run it, asked me if I wanted to run a bit of it to see these colossal puddles I'd heard about. "OK" was my reply, and I scampered off down the trail alongside him like the unsuspecting little runner than I was. I thought that he was just a regular guy who liked to run. But no. Oh no, this was not the case. Around the second MILE of this warm-up, I asked him about how far out he planned to go, and upon hearing his response, I knew that an epic and bloody battle between Mind and Body would promptly ensue. He said smiling, "Well, we have an hour before the race, no reason to hurry." CHAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGE!!!!!!!

Beyond the mammoth puddles were mammoth tree roots and one of them reached out and grabbed my ankle - yes, I fell if you must know, but it was the damn root I tell you! Mind was laughing idiotically until Body got out the trusty knee ice pick. That seemed to shut Mind up pretty quickly, and after another mile of this warm-up ridiculousness, we arrived back at the start line.

So, let's recap, before the race even started I had two squishy shoes that were caked in mud and full of puddle water, Body completely in a state of belligerence about the knee situation and the utter idiocy of Mind for agreeing to go along with Sting on a warm-up through what turned out to be the first 5K of the course. This was then compounded when we later overheard him talking about his upcoming race schedule, which included the Mohican 100. As in 100 miles. At this point, Mind just tried to find a nice dark corner and stay low.


The hay on either side of lake mud puddle is for the bog-monster mud. My friend Sting there is immune.

Back at my car I took a couple Aleve and cursed the day that I signed up for this race. It already hurt to walk and I had another 15K worth of cussing in store. I wanted to go home and I truly almost did. I was wrestling with the idea all the way up to the starting line. Once there, I found myself standing with Sting and some of the women from his running club. It hadn't occurred to me that I was standing with 100-miler Sting and his gazelle backup singers. But it didn't matter because as the whistle sounded they all went away in a tornado of Underarmour and Thermopolis.

Now, for the horror of the race: There were unearthly, inhumane dunes (that went straight up in places!) and trail hills. Bog-monster mud that apparently fed on running shoes, ice-cold 6-8 inch puddles that were unavoidable because they were about eight feet wide and surrounded in bog-monster mud, roots and tree limbs that seemed to be methodically implanted for the sole purpose of nearly decapitating and then tripping runners so that they could then be sacrificed to the bog-monster mud. How I was not chosen to be a sacrifice, I will never know. Two water stops, one on the first mile and again on the last mile -- Hey, thanks! Guh. After race stuff included water and bananas. Horrible.


This would be a typical mud puddle lake and the surrounding bog-monster mud.


Hills to the left of me...hills to the right of me... hills behind me, and dear God, hills in front of me!


This is one of the hills on the course, it had many siblings.


....And the above hill's big brother. The little blue and orange specks up there are people who are kicking my butt.

The only, and I repeat only cool thing about this insanity was the view from the top of the dune overlooking the beach and the lake. That was incredible, but not incredible enough for me to run this exercise in asininity again next year. This is saying a lot because I'm pretty easy when it comes to water.


So beautiful that I almost didn't notice the crappage I had yet to cross.


A long, steep way down in soft sand. Fun.

I finished in 1:47:16. Not the first, not the last, but not bad considering the terrain and my knee.

Oh, and just for anyone out there who would still be so sadistic after reading this to actually want to run through bog-monster mud and an eternity of vertical dunes, here are the top three songs not to have on your MP3 player:

1. Quicksand - Travis

2. The End Has No End - The Strokes

3. 40' - Franz Ferdinand