Saturday, May 29: Bartlett

The first-ever "Race for Reading," held on Saturday, May 29 at the "100 Acre Wood" complex in Bartlett, N.H., was also the first race I've run that included warnings to the runners to look out for bear. But I almost didn't make it after cutting things way too close on the two-hour ride from my home, and then taking a wrong turn at the last minute.

The race was promoted as being in "Intervale," but that's one of those New Hampshire communities that doesn't really exist. It's actually an area within the sprawling township of Bartlett, which includes a large area south of Mount Washington and into the mouth of Crawford Notch, one of the most spectacular parts of New Hampshire's White Mountains. I knew about Intervale, however, because my Aunt Bunny and Uncle Bunk lived there in the 1950s when he was stationed up here as a state trooper. Anyway, whether Intervale or Bartlett, it's Town #111 for me.

For the ride up, the only way to get to this part of the Mount Washington Valley is over state highways that thread through many towns of the Lakes Region, and so continuously go from 50 mph to 30 mph. It's a nice drive but if you get behind a slow-poke, things can get bottled up fast. So even if it's a two-hour drive from my home in Bedford, N.H. (and I left at 6:30 a.m.), you may get slowed down, as I was, and not get to North Conway (the area below Intervale) until something like 8:45 a.m., which is when seconds count, especially if you don't know exactly where the race is, which I didn't.

The description online included something called "100 Acres" and "opposite Town Hall Road," which was the only named road I could actually find on my map. So the plan was to get as far as Town Hall Road, anyway, and then go from there. Heading up Route 16, I find it no problem, swing a left, and begin to look. And look. One mile. Past Town Hall, okay. Two miles. No sign of anything. Road narrowing. Three miles. I was thinking 8:50 a.m. as my turn-around time to rush back in a last-ditch effort to to not waste a whole weekend morning driving up here for nothing; before that, the road becomes a dirt washout heading up a steep hill with a sign that saying, cryptically, "ROAD WIDTH VARIES," so I swing around and bomb back at a high rate of speed.

I'm thinking of those words "opposite Town Hall Road," and it comes to me: though there seemed to be nothing on the other side of Route 16 where Town Hall Road started, that might be where I want to be. All the way back, there's nothing about any road race, and I get to Route 16 at 8:54 a.m. No traffic, so I roll across the highway and there it is: A dirt road and a sign saying "100 Acres." So I head in and finally see the first evidence that I'm in the right place: a "ROAD RACE IN PROGRESS" sign. Well, not just yet, I hope.

I follow the road, which becomes paved for a bit and seems to lead through a construction site, then goes back to dirt and up a hill. Finally, a parking lot filled with vehicles, but not a person to be seen. I park, get out, and notice a small sign saying "Road Race" and with an arrow pointing down a path. It's 8:58 a.m., so I grab $30 in cash and my keys (but forget to lock the car, as it turns out) and jog down the path, which leads to an overlook; below me are two enormous, dazzlingly white geodesic dome-like tents in the middle of the wilderness, and still no one in sight. I felt like Woody Allen in "Sleeper," in that part when he runs across the farm in the middle of the forest. But there's yet another sign for the road race, leading around these, and I begin to think it's some kind of trap. But just as I begin to have second thoughts, I round the corner, and sure enough, there's everything: a registration table, cars, music (which somehow couldn't be heard on the other side of the tents), a timing crew, and a group of people cutting a ribbon with a giant pair of cardboard scissors.

I came up to a woman who looked like she was an organizer, apologized for being so late, and asked if I could still register. No problem, she said: they were still doing a ceremony to mark this first-ever running of the "Race for Reading" 5K trail race. I filled out the paperwork and glanced at the route map, which snaked all around the property in confusing series of loops that reminded me of the picture of the human intestine in my doctor's office, but the lady assured me the trails were well marked and I'd have no problem. Which was good, because the moment I stepped away from the table, someone announced that bears had been sighted on the trail that morning, so watch out. And then the race started, and off I went, without so much as a chance to stretch. One of the all-time close calls, considering the distance I had to travel, but at least I made it.

And yes, the course was a series of constantly twisting trails, some of which looked freshly bulldozed. The property was mostly level, though, and not too tough if you paid attention to your footing, which I HAVE to do on trail races after too many twisted ankles. A highlight was the crossing not once but twice of the old Maine Central's "Mountain Division" railroad line, which traverses Crawford Notch as part of the link between Montreal and Portland, Maine. The line, which runs through the "100 Acre" property, is now used only by the North Conway Scenic Railroad for occasional tourist trains, but organizers still had someone stationed at the tracks to make sure runners got over safely.

Nice shady course, though the last half-kilometer was uphill in an open area, with the sun just hot enough to make it a tough slog after all the cool time under the trees. Finished in 32:01, pretty slow but not bad for a trail race, I guess, and for a guy who did a two-hour hilly bike ride the night before. I was officially 21st out of 33 entrants, including, amazingly, a guy pushing a stroller who finished in like 40 minutes. (Must have been a bumpy ride!) Afterwards, I met a woman with four collies, all part of the same family, including one on three legs, the victim of a car accident seven years ago. He seemed to be coping fine.

This was the last race before one of this season's major challenges: the 10-mile all-uphill "Pack Monadnock" race on Sunday, June 6. I have one more longish run scheduled before trying to tackle that, weather permitting. If it's hot and humid that morning, forget it. Right now, the weather calls for a high of 76 and "scattered thunderstorms," which could mean anything. So we'll see.

Saturday, May 15: Hanover

This event had the nicest bathrooms I've seen in more than 100 races: luxurious marble and paneled wood commodes in the admissions office of the Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth College, which sponsored the race. Usually you get junior high boys rooms or port-a-potties at these affairs, so it was nice to go Ivy League for once. Too bad I left the camera at home this time!

Nice and cool, breezy and intermittently sunny weather for this 10K, the first one of this length (6.2 miles) I've run in quite some time. Hanover is Town #110 for me, and the race came with an unusual start: the woman announcing it and the speakers carrying her words were set up behind the runners, and so when she told us to go, no one up front heard her at first, so no one went. I thought a redo was in the cards until people just started finally moving and we were off.

Strange course in that there was a 5K with a turnaround only a very short distance from the start. So it weird to see the 5K people coming back the other way less than 5 minutes after we began. (Organizers said there was a turn-around at the 'half-way' point, but it was more at the one-tenth point!) Things spread out quite a bit once the 10K folks got past this and were on our own, making a wide loop north of town through over residential roads up on a ridge and then descending and swinging back to Hanover along a golf course. Thank God it wasn't hot and humid as this long stretch was completely without shade!

Interesting that the mile markers were a bit erratic: written in chalk and half-washed away by showers. So I was a bit hazy as to where we were during the race, which I actually like in contests that are longer than 5K, as it allows you to settle in to a pace and forget that part of you which quantifies everything.

And finally, one very unusual thing for me was that after the pack really spread out, at about the 2-mile mark I found myself fairly close behind a guy who was keeping about the same pace as me. I stayed behind him, having to push myself a bit to not drop too far back, but eventually he pulled quite far ahead of me as we ran along the golf course back into town.

"Oh well, guess I can't catch up to him after all," I said to myself, as we coasted down and then up a hill into Hanover, where I thought we were nearing the finish line. But then, looking ahead, he was noticeably slower on the hill, and I was surprised to find myself quickly closing the distance after all. It got so I came up right behind him as we crested the hill near the Dartmouth Medical School complex (if nothing else, conveniently located), and I felt strong, so I decided to work to stay behind him until the finish line was in sight and then see what I had left.

But as we neared what I thought was the final turn, the safety-vested volunteer posted there pointed at us to turn in the opposite direction of the finish line, off the campus and down a residential road back in the direction of the golf course. What?! Is this some kind of sick joke? Turns out we were only at about the 5-mile mark and there was still quite a bit to go. This took the wind out of me, so I immediately pulled back to conserve some energy and the guy in front of me was quickly quite far ahead.

And so I focused on just running with a smart stride (so as not to cause any damage, and I was already feeling it a bit), and that was that, I figured. But as we neared the turn-around out by the golf course again, I looked ahead and was surprised to see he'd stopped and was trying to figure out where the actual route was supposed to be. He found it and got back to his stride, but by then I'd pulled closer and I started to feel the urge again.

All the way back to town, I tried keeping with him. As we neared Hanover and the final turns, I had to push hard to keep him from pulling away again. Egged on by, among others, rowdy attendees of a front-lawn fraternity party, I kept it up. Finally, as we rounded the next-to-last corner, I widened my stride and increased my pace just enough to begin closing in.

And so I pulled up right behind him as we made the final turn in front of the iconic Sherman Library, and headed toward the finish line, now ahead of us but still in the distance, at the bottom of Tuck Mall. As I rounded the corner, a woman pushing a stroller in the road leaned in and said conspiratorily, "You can catch him," and that was all I needed. I felt strong, but knew it would take strategy to pull this off. The trick was to come up behind him close enough to be able to make my move when I felt the time was right. Too soon and I'd run out of gas and look like a dope at the finish. (Nothing new there!) Too late, and I wouldn't be able to make it in time.

So I stayed with him as the finish drew closer. Finally, we got to where I'd parked my car, and for some reason that felt right, and so I immediately widened my stride as much as possible and pushed the pace to the maximum I could manage. I breezed right by him and didn't look back, pouring it on all the way to the finish, which was now close enough for the cheers and the music and the adrenaline to carry me through.

I crossed in 1 hour, 2 minutes, and 24 seconds, according to the time clock sitting on the ground. (Official race results haven't been posted as of this writing.) And it was only after going through the chute that I turned around to see where my friend was: and it turned out he was still way out there, slowing nearing the finish line and keeping the same pace, which he hadn't altered despite my antics.

Not that it's that big a deal, but for me it's somewhat rewarding to be able to have so much left after a 10K race. Nice! And that's it for Town #110. Next up is Intervale/Bartlett, up in Crawford Notch, on Saturday, May 29. And hoping to work up to the big 10-miler up Pack Monadnock in June. Still possible if I keep at it!

Saturday, May 8: Holderness

A rainy day for a modest 4-miler this morning up in Holderness, a town on Squam Lake, where 'On Golden Pond' was filmed. Only about two dozen folks turned up for this race, a Project Graduation effort, augmented by a plant sale inside the school entranceway. These are the ones I like to get, as often they're one-time-only races that aren't repeated, so it's important to be up for them when they happen.

This one was a friendly local affair. (With colorful T-shirts, see photo!) I looked at the registration roster when signing in (last-minute as usual) and I think I was the only flatlander in the pack. Though the weather wasn't awful, it was raining enough to wash away the chalk starting line, which caused a bit of confusion, but no problem: off we went on a nice loop in the countryside out in back of Holderness Central School. After some ups and downs, the road turns to dirt, but it was a graded and well-packed surface, so mud and puddles weren't a problem. (Unlike the Wolfeboro run from last month.)

Hills were just enough to keep it interesting. Things leveled out about half-way through, and then an easy push to end in the school parking lot. One unique touch was the "human finish line," a picture of which I've included. In keeping with the "no frills" spirit, the race had no clock; rather, my time of 40 minutes and 32 seconds was called out in unison by two nice gals as I crossed the finish line. A couple folks coming in after me apparently took a wrong turn at one point. I heard one say "I knew things weren't right when I saw the sign for the town border."

Well, that's town #109. Only...er, 125 to go!

Update: I've just found the results posted online; the race had just 20 entrants, and I came in 11th with an official time of 40:24. Not sure where those missing eight seconds went to.