Race Report: Yankee Springs 50k Trail Run

How could a race plan this good possibly go wrong? It's like going to the thrift store for an '80s theme party costume. Shoo-in.

Step 1 - Rent heated cabin at race site for the weekend with running friends.
Step 2 - Run a 50k trail race
Step 3 - Celebrate with food, bonfire, and booze.
Step 4 - Run more trail the next day and invite Cody pup along this time.

It's bulletproof. Even if the rustic cabin that sleeps five is 10' x 20' and the beds sink like hammocks. Even if the temps are in the 20s. You're with good people who like to run! Boom, win.

Putting the rustic in cabin life

Tim, Julie, and Jon arrived Friday night and set up gear in the cabin. Jon and I enjoyed some pre-race drinks, and then headed out with Cody into the night to test our shoes on the trails. Discovery: the trails were hard packed with runnable snow, so no yaktrax on the Peregrines. Tomorrow would be a fast day.

Admission: I hate race morning until the start gun goes off. But here, waking up an hour and a half before the 9am start, rolling out of bed, and knowing the start is only 1/8 mile away is fantastic. Total stress killer. We headed to the start 20 minutes before the gun, met up with a crew of BTers -- the fantastic Kimm, Kathleen, and Dave -- and then some people I'd never met IRL and tried to warm up the sticks with some butt kicker drills.

The RD yelled "GO" and we took off. Jon and I were among the lead pack until the first trail crossing where someone yelled "wrong way!" and we all tried to turn back, but I was on ice, so I slipped and hit the deck. Ok, nothing hurts, keep running. Jon took the lead up the first hill, and I followed. We were moving very quickly. 7:00/mi on the downhills and only a little slower on the up. I knew it was too fast, but I was so relaxed, breathing felt great and so did my legs.

After a mile, the snow-covered gravel road hit the single track, so there was plenty of space early race to seed ourselves. Jon pulled away after a few miles and I convinced myself that I needed to run my own race and slow down to a pace that I actually had a snowball's chance in hell of holding. After a few more miles, a guy passed me like Hermes (swear he had winged feet) and took off after Jon, seeing that I wasn't interested in keeping contact with the leader.

Smooth, hardpacked snow, just a little icy:

Photo Credit: Ben VanHoose

A few miles later I glanced back down the trail to see who else is holding steady at 7:15/mi average pace. Only one guy back there in blue, so it looked like we'd be duelling it out for 3rd and 4th. Aight, keep the effort easy, breathe, talk to this guy, maybe make a friend. Turns out, dude in blue -- Noah -- is running the 25k! Hooray! I told him that was the best news I'd heard all day.

He was great company, so we chatted for a while about trail racing and miles clicked by super fast. The pace slowed since we were in the hilly back half of the 25k loop. I was almost to the 13 mile point when we hit this section with switchbacks and I could see other runners. Oh damn, time to kick it up. I pulled away from Noah and ran solo the rest of the race.

Me and Noah past 6mi aid station manned by Ben VanHoose:

Photo Credit: Ben VanHoose

Came into the start/finish mile 15.5 at 1:54. On pace for a sub-3:50. Hmmm, that's a lot fast. I swapped out my one just-finished bottle at the drop bag area, though I should've had a separate handheld with full bottle ready. I fumbled and lost 30 seconds getting the new bottle into my handheld with popsicle fingers.

I decided early-race to keep 10 mile splits on the Garmin. It seemed like a manageable distance to attack mentally. First 10 miles I was doing great, and by the next 10 miles I'd only slowed 5 seconds per minute per mile. I'm definitely bleeding pace, but it's not a hemorrhage. Put a tourniquet on that shit and let's start racing.

Photo Credit: Ryan Heidenfeld

At mile 21 I hit Ben's aid station and was feeling pretty dehydrated. I couldn't decide whether I needed my bottle filled, the thoughts wouldn't congeal, so obviously I really needed water. Took down some coke and gatorade and left with a full bottle and promised myself I'd drink often and finish that bottle. Ben said I was 4 minutes behind Jon. Didn't mention the other guy. I thanked him and pressed on.

The mileage and time were going by really slowly now. I was trapped in my brain with hurting legs, elevated heart rate, and no distraction. I wanted my ipod so bad right now! Why didn't I bring it?! Don't panic, just keep thinking, 'less than 8 miles, just one Huron River loop. You've done this a million times. You're not 23 miles into a race, you're on Huron parkway, running downhill on your favorite stretch of road.' It was a band aid. And the blood was starting to seep through.

A couple that was hiking the trail told me I was in 2nd place. Wha?! What happened to the two in front? That definitely lifted my spirits, but I know you can never trust what people tell you out there. Hang on, keep pushing it. I wondered for a spell whether this much pain was actually healthy for a person. I sang Kishi Bashi's "Bright Whites". Nothing helped. I was in the pain cave.

I wanted to throw my Garmin into the woods so I'd stop looking at it and seeing the pace shuffle backwards.  Less than 3 miles to go. Where was the surge of energy I'd stashed in my tights? Spent it long ago. Thought I was running on credit, but I always pay cash on the trail. And the green was gone.

The last mile, with its final, sinister little pitch upward, didn't give me any energy either. My legs were done, my bottle empty and gels kicked. I left everything I brought to this race out on the course. As I crossed the finish I shouted, 'Am I done?' I was half serious, half not so with it. I collapsed with hands on knees, awash with happiness and pain. I saw Jon and congratulated him on the win -- and the course record!

I got 2nd place overall! How did that happen?! And a 24 minute PR with a 3:50, just 30 seconds shy of going under the course record. That's 7:25/mi average...where in the hell did that come from?!

Neither Jon nor I knew what happened to the other guy who had taken off ahead of Jon on the first loop. Several minutes later the front runner in question, Jordan Lafreniere, came through and told us he got lost and couldn't get back. Damn, that sucks.

I picked out a sweet Montrail toque as my prize and snow globe award then headed to the cabin for warm dry clothes, celebratory whisky + beer + food. We cheered runners as they came through the cabin campground and told race and running stories. This is what it's all about. The hard work is over, the proof is in the pain, and now we celebrate.

Tim came through the camp with a strong finishing kick and we gave him hearty cheers. Then it was off to the finish to catch Alaina. She was beautiful. Just finished her first ultra. So happy for her!

Alaina on course in her first ultra:

Photo Credit: Ryan Heidenfeld

We all went to the main cabin lodge for delicious chili and two roaring fireplaces for more running stories, joined by Dave Potter and then Ben. Lots of stories and ultra talk. Man, I love this scene.

As the light faded, we moved to the outdoor bonfire pit, roasting food, celebrating with drinks and talking to cabin neighbors. Yep, this camaraderie keeps me racing.

We capped off the weekend with a 10 mile out-n-back the next day with Alaina, Jon, and Cody on the gorgeous, hilly back half of the course, going easy and stopping to enjoy the views we'd missed during the race. A fresh covering of snow was a nice treat too.

I highly recommend the Yankee Springs races. They're well organized, the events start on time, it's a fast course with some hills, and you're on awesome trails with a mix of pines and old growth hardwoods, and almost all of the course is single track. I'd definitely race here again.

Happy Running!

Jon, Me, Cody, and Alaina after our tenner