June 26, 2011: Enfield (#120)

Ran the 'Shaker Seven' today, a race with an odd distance (seven miles) because that's how far it is if you run completely around Mascoma Lake. But a key bridge is being rebuilt this year, which turned the loop into an out and back just this once.

The route was still all along the lake, a good-sized one with lots of summer homes, especially on Shaker Boulevard, a dirt road that hugs the eastern shore. At one point, someone was running a motorboat in the distance; nothing can recreate my childhood like the sound of an outboard motor out on the water. (Combine it with the smell of leaded gasoline and I'm three years old again.)

Lucked out with the overcast; if the sun had come out, we all would have roasted for sure. As it was, the humidity (and the length of the course) made it one of those races where your shorts get completely soaked through, which is actually a satisfying feeling to me -- proof that I've exerted myself.

Finished in 1:11:57, or just over a 10-minute mile pace. (Checked the results page, and it was 10:17, putting me 64th out of a field of 81.) Not bad considering the lack of sleep of late, plus careless eating, i.e. nothing beforehand. I did drink coffee, but that only served to open the floodgates. Though I used the portable toilets prior to the race (for once I wasn't the last person to register), I later had to do something I rarely indulge in -- the mid-race dive-into-the-woods to relieve yourself.

But in this case it was needed, as we were only at Mile 4 and I could feel myself being, er, constrained by a full bladder. It's funny, but that can really hinder your speed. At that point, I was on a curve, and my fellow runners had spread out along the course. So I hopped off the road, ducked behind a boulder, and let go, hoping to get it taken care of quickly.

Unfortunately, the quantity did not lend itself to a quick return. And I wasn't that far into the woods, and to my alarm, a group of women were coming up quickly while I was still in mid-stream.

Not wanting to get charged with indecent exposure, I did my best to finish before anyone got too close, and then jump back into the race. In doing so, I unexpectedly sprayed my left hand. Smooth! So I just held it kind of out there and away from me until we reached the next water station, where I rinsed myself back to civility.

So that's Enfield, Town #120. Coupla weekends off until the next races in new towns on Saturday, July 16 in either Langdon or Ossipee. Decisions, decisions!

Saturday, June 25: Goffstown (#119)

You know it's going to be an interesting road race when, just before the start, a guy right behind you -- one of those guys with a voice that's louder than he realizes -- says, speaking in your direction, "Well, I see a lot of pretty unfit people here, so at least I know I won't be last."

That was the 32nd annual Goffstown Gallop, a 5.2-mile loop through the community, skirting the village area but sticking mostly to suburban roads. For me, it's #119 out of New Hampshire's 234 cities, towns, and unincorporated places, and it's an unusual one because it's the next town over from where I live. At this point, I often have to drive a couple hours one way to get to races I need, but for me, Goffstown's just a bit further away than the Bedford town dump.

Good thing, too, because I got a late start and wound up not even leaving the house until after 8 a.m. -- kinda late for an 8:30 a.m. start, even if it is the next town over. And then I didn't realize you have to park at the high school, which is a 10-minute stroll from the registration area and starting line, meaning I just barely got there in time. I was actually the last person to register, completing my paperwork as a guy called out "Four minutes to start!"

Although this race is close by, I haven't done it until now (after pursuing this quest for more than a decade!) because each year, the last weekend in June either found me out of town or at some other less-well-established race in a town I needed. So Goffstown took a while to get filled in, but I felt I could wait because the race is a community tradition, with little chance it would just disappear.

The full name of the race, by the way, is the "32nd Annual Dave French Goffstown Gallop," named after the town's long-time (and now retired) recreation director. I used to work with Dave when I was editor of the local paper, the Goffstown News; we were once part of a "lose weight for charity" campaign some years ago, but my favorite rec department activity was Dave's annual smelliest sneaker contest. Each year we'd photograph the winner (and the shoes) and run it in the paper. An egalitarian honor, it was something that all area youth could aspire to no matter what their athletic abilities might be.

And Dave French himself was running in the race, for what I gathered was the first time ever after years of organizing it. I didn't get a chance to speak to him, but it's somehow comforting to know you're running with the guy who the race is named after.

The length of 5.2 miles is a little odd, the result of the course having to start and finish at the town's recreation property. But it's funny how a 5K (3.1 miles) can sometimes seem longer than you expect, while something 5 miles or more (like today) can whiz right by, which is what seemed to happen today. Before I knew it, we were at the 4-mile mark and the race was almost over! There's something psychological behind this, and perhaps it's nothing more complicated than expectations vs. reality, but I don't know.

The same thing happened with what I thought would be the course's "one big hill" between miles 2 and 3, which I overheard some runners speaking of prior to the start. I braced myself for a long, motivation-sapping upgrade, but found it to be a mild uphill that barely rose at all. I kept waiting to get hit with a steep climb, but it never happened; instead, we leveled off and then began descending. That was it?

Weather: Unusually cool for late June in New Hampshire, mid-50s, overcast, occasional mist. Great running weather, so that helped. Surprised to see my time at the finish as 50:25 (just missed 50 minutes!), which means something under a 10:00 mile, I think -- my best pace this year so far. The weather certainly helped.

Kudos to race organizers for keeping the entrance fee to an affordable $10 in advance, $15 day of registration. Elsewhere, we're regularly seeing registration fees of $25 and $30 now, and that's a little steep, even if it's for a great cause.

I just checked, and yes, the results are online: my pace was 9:46, and I finished 174 out of 219. No exactly medal material (although all finishers got one), but not last, either.

Geez, I wonder how the guy with the big mouth did?

It's been a quiet month...

...for road races in New Hampshire, at least with towns where I've yet to run. But after a drought for most of June, the end of the month brings a spate of races that continues all the way into the fall, with something like two dozen new communities in the cards. The list includes obvious ones you'd think I'd have gotten by now, such as Goffstown and Laconia, and also tiny towns that usual don't host races, such as Richmond and Marlow.

Though I haven't been running any official races, I've been keeping limbered up by taking one of our dogs, an eight-year-old German Shepard named Zahnna, up several more of New Hampshire's 4,000-footers. There are 48 in all, and as of now, Zahnna has been to the summit of 25 of them, which is slightly more than half. (About the same as my running quest!) Most recently, we completed the southern Presidentials, tagging Mount Pierce and Mount Jackson on Friday, June 16.

I've also been running with the other dogs, Abby and Inca, who make a good two-dog crew to patrol the neighborhood. We've been getting out every other day or so, doing three miles or so.

But the big news is that I've bought a new road bike, which means I can once again add this joint-friendly activity to my roster again. And as always, I have some goals for this as well: namely, to ride from York, Maine home to Bedford, N.H. (about 60 miles) and to bike the Kancamaugus Highway in the White Mountains. I'm aiming to do both later this summer, once I've built up my mileage and gotten my biking legs (and other parts) back.

The key, of course, is to not get injured. Keep your fingers crossed, and see you on Saturday, June 25, when I tackle a road race either in Goffstown (probably) or or Northfield, and then on Sunday, June 26, when I do a 7-miler in Enfield.