[at-l] dem Boysenberries' 5k was Re: [IndianaATClub] Re: Questions!

--- The Lehmkuhl Family <lehmkuhl@gte.net> wrote:
> there will be a trail maintainance thingy for the Tecumseh Trail next
> Sat, Nov 4. Is anyone interested in me giving you the details?
### Normally, I'd be all over it, but this weekend I'll be ending my
ultra-marathon virginity by attempting the Owen-Putnam State Forest
50k/50m. I'll have 12 hours to do 50 miles... Think of me about 18:29:59
Saturday, will ya? Laugh a bit. Maybe grimmace.

> Hey Sloetoe how did your guys do?
### Dem Boysenberries did Magnificently!!!!!!!!!!!!! (And recall, of
course, my thorough lack of bias.) Time was 43:07 for Cole, and probably
41:47 for Connor. Connor would have been faster, except Kent (is he on our
IN AT list?) STOPPED Connor toward the end so's he could get a group foto
of the McGinnis men near the Low Gap Trail sign. ARG! So we laughed,
stopped and posed, and took off for the finish line a good 400 yards away.
Connor again pulled away, but Cole really put out a special effort; they
both flopped directly on the ground after the finish line, red-cheeked and
puffing, and looking in each other's eyes as to whether the other felt as
badly as he. One of those "How do I measure up in the world? -- I'll
compare to my brother." moments. You could actually see 'em grow a bit
right there. But I get away from the story...

OK: two 6.5 year old twins, one (Cole) with rough asthma-like symptoms
stemming from birth. Experienced hikers, they spent close to three weeks
backpacking Vermont's Long Trail this summer, and peeled off half of the
Smokies' AT over Labor Day, and they LOVE to bicycles. (This is how Daddy
does his speedwork nowadays....) Although they'd hiked the area many times,
they'd never RUN this far in any continuous fashion before.......... New
territory. For all three of us.

The course: "The Knobstone Trail Mini" -- a 5k/10k/10m/13.1m grouped-start
trail race in the Morgan-Monroe State Forest -- rolling hardwoods trail in
autumn leaf-crunching glory -- with enough people to take up 60-70 feet on
both sides of the road. We started nearly dead last, as you've only got
about 200 yards of asphalt before turning onto an increasingly narrow
trail, and I didn't want the boys to be holding up any faster adults.
People were great at the beginning -- not saying a word, they were just
turning around, looking down at the boys, and smiling broadly. The boys
were a little nervous (conveniantly), and they stayed close, didn't hop
around, and limbered up without wasting lots of energy. This was the first
time they'd worn numbers, and they said later that being *in* the crowd at
the beginning had a big effect on them -- they wanted to run the *whole*
race, and run it *well*.

The race: 12:06 for the first mile. Trail narrowed *way* fast, and in front
of us there's a freight train of plodding people 100 yards long before the
first break. Even for me -- planning on holding the boys back till the
finish line was near -- it was too slow. So I break 'em out into the fire
road's tall grass, calling "On the left!" People were great (again) as we
passed, laughing and encouraging the McGee Trio. We make it up to the break
in traffic, and Cole announces "Daddy, I think I've gotta pee." (Oh,
great!) But he's already run farther than he's ever *continuously* run
before. Well, I figure, if we're going to run this as a shuttle, the sooner
we take that first break, the better. So I have Connor (who's in front)
look for that perfect pee spot -- as we'd done so often hiking -- and
Connor promptly pulls over to an otherwise perfect spot *in*full*view* of
the coming freight train of people we'd passed. I pointed this out quickly,
and laughing, the boys together dodged behind a tree and wet some leaves.
And the freight train passed right on by.

The trail dodges left off of the fire road to a true singletrack trail
switchbacked down a steep-sided hollow. I'd told the boys that one of the
great things about running trail races (or running trails, for that matter)
was to run these downhills fast enough that your eyes water. "And then, you
can't see! And neither can the guy in front of you, nor them in back of
you, and you're all still running madly, and eventually somebody screams
'Aaaahhhggggggg!' and then *everybody* screams "Aaaaaahhhhggggg!!! running
madly, blindly down the hill, hoping like hell you don't run [SMACK]into a
tree." They always laugh at the last part -- they think I'm kidding.

Well, we try to bomb this hill, but we've got the freight train in front of
us again, and nobody's letting us by. In despiration, I get in front of the
boys, making heavy "Crunch Crunch" sounds in the leaves, and manage to get
by... Still, the boys are stuck -- I'm thinking that nobody can actually
hear their footfalls in the leaves against the sound of their own
adult-sized sounds. I finally turn around and call out "Hey people! Two
SmallBoys trying to get by there! Can we give em' a break?" and poof, the
boys shot through and bombed what remained of the hill.

Crossing the bottom of the hollow, to turn up the other leg and return to
the finish area, I looked back to see how Cole was doing. He was holding
his left palm to his rib cage in classic sidestitch posture, with a grimace
growing on his face. My immediate thought was to stop him, but I had to
balance that with Connor (who'd passed me) and with the trail itself. I
said sympathetically "Oh Cole, does your side hurt?" "Heh!" he huffed and
nodded a yes. "Can you make it to the Rock House (overhang, about 300
yards) ahead? Remember, that's a steep uphill and we *must* walk it, or
we'll die! Can you make it there, Cole?" By way of answer, he passes me. He
*passes* me -- the little bugger surges ahead and joins up with his
brother, and they both cover this stretch of undulating trail leaping over
brooks and dodging under logs like deer out for a romp.

We do walk the steep uphill after the Rock House, me holding them back
until the final turn up the now gentle slope. Connor's completely recovered
and anxious to go. Cole's not quite recovered and just plain anxious; but
he's bound and determined to not let his brother get too far ahead.
(Somewhere in there, btw, mile two was covered in 13:43.) While worried
about his remaining strength, I am *floored* by his effort so far, and that
of his brother, and don't want to do anything to deny the glory of a "best
effort" performance. We continue up the ridge, running slow. Cole stops, on
his own; huffing and puffing, cheeks red. I look, and see his eyes fixed up
the trail, his face set, his form still smooth and even. He's the picture
of quiet determination. "Great job, Colio! Tremendous! OutRAGEous. Keep it
up, Cole, keep it up! 'All day pace!'" He leans forward and runs another
40-50 yards. "Oh, Cole, you're tremendous!" Connor's slowed up too, and I
repeat the encouragement, and remind him too: "'All day pace,' Bug!
Remember, guys, we're not yet to the point where we can just let it all
out! Keep a little (in reserve)! -- Hold a little back!" Their arms
swinging, they continued up the hill. Incredible focus; I thought to myself
"Ultra-runners of the future, watch out!"

We hit the 3mile-10mile split, and waved good bye to the other trail. They
both called out "Daddy, next year we do the half-marathon!" Ugh! Let's
finish this one, I thought to myself.....

Just after the split, the trail hits a fire road and follows it back to the
parking lot just a hard sprint away from the finish line. I'd told the boys
that by the time we hit this point, "the ponies would know they were
getting close to the barn, and they'd be wanting to strain the reins a bit
to get back in." Connor now calls back to me "Daddy? Is it time to let the
ponies go?" I answered "Let 'em go, Bug! Get those ponies to the barn! Keep
a little for the finish, though!" With that, he's gone, and I'm behind with
Cole.

Cole was obviously disappointed that he was losing ground on his brother,
but I think comforted by my constant presence. And he was *obviously*
working hard: his red-cheeked face was no longer set, his gaze was starting
to wander, and his form was starting to get sloppy. Now it was as much a
test for me to get him across the finish line with a smile as it was for
him to run it, and I put my Daddy-function brain lobes into high gear. But
I didn't need to worry for long.

Connor got perhaps 200 yards ahead, and pulled up to a walk. I called out
"Great job, Bug!" and Cole followed with "Great job, Connor!" and broke
into a trot. Connor waved, turned back forwards and walked a bit more, then
too broke into a trot. Then Cole walked. Connor walked. We cheered each
other. Connor trotted on. Cole trotted on.

And this continued until we broke out onto the road, with Connor now
perhaps 400 yards in front of Cole and I. When Kent took the picture, and
Connor and Cole took off toward the finish line, I had to pause my pride
(and relief?) a bit more -- till they both crossed the line. Cole's form,
usually so smooth and fluid, slowed to a walk half way to the finish, while
Connor's 'little boy' bounce continued on to the finish. I sprinted to
Cole, and yelling and screaming and generally carrying on, we got to the
finish. I know at one point I yelled "No smiling! No smiling! You gotta go
faster! Faster! Faster!!!!!!" and in spite of himself, he actually
struggled to go faster while not laughing out loud. It was great.

And a mighty effort, a truely mighty effort, for both of them. Connor
collapsed at the finish line, and when Cole and I got there, he looked at
us to be sure, it seemed, that he should feel that tired. Cole's reactions
assured him that "tired" was the way to be. And after a bit to catch their
breath, I mentioned "donuts" and they rolled quickly to their feet. But
fifty feet back to the picnic pavillion, they turned around and returned to
the finish line, wanting to know their times and their finishing place.
Yeesh!

43:07, 24th and 25th in the 5k. And perhaps first in effort.

Only small apologies for the wide multiple cross-post.
Hope this finds all well.
Tom McGinnis
Sloetoe



=====
There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of the great and generous emotions of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm, of the men who quell the storm and ride the thunder.

T.Roosevelt 4/23/10

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