Silent Trails 2011

From 2001 (the first Silent Trails) to 2007, the weather for this race was typically great.  Usually a little chilly in the morning, but by race time it was another wonderful fall day in the Wyoming mountains.  I used to run this race in a singlet.  However, beginning in 2008, when we had a strange ice storm roll in the night before the race, this first weekend in October has proven to be the perennial first snow/cold/crappy weather of the season.  2009 saw the race cancelled thanks to a blizzard the night before, and last year's race, while missing snow, saw colder temps and a howling, freezing west wind that cut through layers of clothing.  Thus, when I saw the weather forecast predicting 3-6 inches of snow for Saturday morning, I said to myself, "That figures."

It had yet to begin snowing when I left my house in town to head up the hill.  When I arrived at Tie City, the snow was just beginning to fall.  I met up with my parents, who travelled over from Cheyenne that morning to spectate, grabbed my race packet, and took off for a warm-up run.  15 minutes later, I was back at the starting line, marvelling at how much snow was beginning to accumulate on the trails.

My dad and me watching the snow fall right before race start.  Photo by Cassandra Driver.

We gathered for the start, where I said hello to Justin Mock and Nick Clark, the stud runners up from Colorado.  Also in attendance were my fellow Hungry Dogs Chris Schabron, Nick Cramer, the Big Dog Chris Jons, and Maggie Diller.  Jason Delaney hopped on the line next to me wearing only his BRC singlet.  He looked at me, smiled, lifted his foot and enthusiastically showed me his shoes.  "I'm spiking up, dude!" he proclaimed.  Sure enough, he was cruising around in his Adidas cross-country spikes.  I, having originally planned to race in my SpeedStars, instead opted for my New Balance 101 trail shoes.  I'm not too sure they offered any more traction, by they didn't seem to get snow stuck to the bottom of them quite as bad as the Asics.

Snow really started to fall as we gathered for the start.  Photo by Cassandra Driver.

From the far left, Chris and me in our yellow HDTC jerseys, Jason in the green singlet, Justin next to him in the white socks, and Nick in the blue hat.  One of the studlier starting lines we've had for this race.  Photo by Amber Travsky, Laramie Boomerang.

Perry called the race to the line and got us going.  From the start, Jason and Justin took off, with Nick not too far behind.  Most years, I get sucked into that, bomb down Pole Creek too fast and find myself in oxygen debt when I begin the climb up The Bitch.  This year, after a summer of running the course, I decided my best strategy was to be conservative down Pole Creek, do as best I could on the climb, then go as fast as I could on the second half and see if I could run anyone down.  This strategy worked, for the most part.

I was tentative on the downhills due to my already well-known ability to fall in the best of conditions.  A couple of inches of snow obscuring rocks and roots made things way more treacherous.  Ted Haskell, one of the fixtures of Laramie running, has had a habit of really making me work in this race.  In 2007, I literally had to out kick him for second place, and I don't believe I have ever finished more than a minute ahead of him.  Ted, now officially a Masters at 41, is one of those "old guys" who kick the shit out of young pups on climbs.  Ted and Dr. Dan Radosevich (the original Hungry Dog); I get schooled by their old man strength on a continual basis.

Ted caught me going down Pole Creek and I let him go.  I kept a consistent 10-20 meters behind him as we went down.  To my surprise, Nick Cramer passed me here as well.  Nick, an old teammate of mine at UW who we nicknamed "Cosmo" because of his last name (Seinfeld reference), was a good half-miler during his college years.  So, as he passed me, I let out some words of caution.  "You're gonna want to slow down,"  I told him.  He looked back, smiled, and said, "Hey, I'm just trying to cover as much ground as I can before you school me on The Bitch."  Sure enough, after the creek crossing at the bottom of Pole Creek, we began the rolling climb leading up to The Bitch and I caught Cosmo and didn't see him again.

I have always maintained that the worst climb on this course isn't the 700', steep, switch backing climb up The Bitch.  In my mind, it's the couple of smaller hills right before.  Those little rollers destroy me and set me up for failure on the big climb.  However, it was on those rollers that I felt my best.  I caught back up to and passed Ted, and kept going.  I started to get excited about how good I felt and how maybe this year I was actually going to climb worth a damn.  As I began up The Bitch, I was feeling good, but reminded myself to settle in and run within my bounds.  That changed after the first couple of switchbacks when I heard a sniffle, looked up on the next switchback and saw Nick Clark.

I immediately sped up.  I had never been that close to Nick in a race before, and no offense to him, but one of my goals has been and will continue to be, to beat him in a race.  Having him right there, in my sights, got my blood flowing and heart pumping.  I decided, again, to calm down, try to reel him in bit by bit, and hopefully have him by the top.  From there all I wanted to do was try to stay with him.  I bragged in my last post about my confidence in my ability to descend with anyone.  That confidence does not cover Nick Clark, whose descending abilities are out of this world.  I knew I had to get even with him if I was going to have even the slightest of a shot.

However, that was not meant to be.  2/3's the way up The Bitch, I kept losing my footing in the snow and got a little frustrated and a little winded.  By the time I crested the top, Nick was again out of sight, I was jogging down the backside trying to catch my breath (the wind picked up in the open and combined with the climb, the cold air, and the sickness I had a few days before, my lungs were not bringing in enough air), and Ted had summoned his old man strength to once again catch me.

We cruised down Summit and out to Brown's Landing where I finally found myself breathing again.  I tucked in behind Ted, shielded my eyes as best I could from the driving snow, and prayed that I didn't misplace any steps in what was now ankle deep snow.  My plan was to shamelessly sit on Ted, make him do all work up the backside of Headquarters and down the Overlook, at which point I planned to surge ahead and hopefully out kick him at the end.  Ted, old man strength brimming over in the end, had other ideas.

When we came down the Overlook and back into the trees on Headquarters, I tried to make a move.  Problem was, Ted was running very strong.  And I was beginning to feel the effects of the snow.  I was getting tired, and my foot placement was becoming a problem.  Every time I surged to try to catch Ted, I seemed to invariably slip off a rock or clip a root hidden in the snow.  One particular rock nearly took me down, and in my attempt to stay upright, I flailed my arms and legs about so wildly that I tweaked my hamstring.  After that I decided, given the conditions, I would be happy where I was and with all of my parts intact.  Ted deserved to beat me.  He was the stronger runner that day.

 Coming home in the snow.  Photo by Cassandra Driver.

  Frost everything!  Beard, arms, even legs!  Photo by Cassandra Driver

I came home in 5th in 1:17 and change, over seven minutes slower than my fastest time on this course.  Jason brought home the bacon for the Hungry Dogs in 1:09, with Justin a close second, Clark third and a deserving Ted fourth.  After the race, Mr. Jons and I discussed how this was truly a quintessential Wyoming cross-country race blessed by the guys.  Coach Sanchez came up to me and said, "Y'know how I always used to say there was a fine line between tough and stupid?  Well, I think we crossed that line today!"  I laughed and agreed.  We also summed up that everyone out there was a distance runner.  There were no candy-asses in sight.