Running is not a Spectator Sport

The North Face Endurance Challenge, Washington DC Edition
Tropical Storm Hanna Endurance Challenge
Screw North Face, We’re Running Anyway Race Report
First Annual Renegade 50 Non-Race Report

What was it that poet Robert Burns wrote? “The best laid plans of mice and men oft’ go awry.”

Or that Murphy fellow, what was his law? Oh, yeah: “If anything can go wrong, it will.”

Both the awry and the wrong could be said North Face’s Washington DC regional edition of the 2008 Endurance Challenge.

The BLUF (Bottom Line Up Front) is that the events (10k, 1⁄2 marathon, 50k, 50 miles) were cancelled 48 hours before the starter’s gun was to go off due to the projected route of Tropical Storm Hanna and her predicted fury. It’s said that “hell hath no fury as a woman scorned…” but on this weekend it was that bitch-storm Hanna doing the scorning and the running community unleashing the hell.

Forget that registration had opened in February. Never mind that this race was part of North Face’s “biggest ever cash purse for trail racing” gimmick. And forgo that runners had already arrived in the District from as far away as California and Puerto freakin’ Rico. When Virginia governor Tim Kaine declared a state of emergency for Virginia, this race was done for. The official cancellation email came at 8pm on Thursday night for a 5am Saturday event.

And then something special happened. Runners started emailing each other. The first few messages were filled with contempt and disdain toward The North Face – and race organizers Hawkeye Sports and Entertainment. Samsonite’s favorite was the guy who harpooned Hawkeye saying, “Whomever the race director is for this race, he/she is clearly not wired into the heart beat of ultra runners…” Then a local Virginian pitched the idea that….hey, let’s run anyway! They had all done the training for the event, prepared themselves mentally to race – not to mention having devoted a week or two to a good taper. Their bodies were prepared to hurt, and golly gee, they decided to go make them hurt! 300 emails and 16 hours later a group of 30+ strangers had agreed upon a starting time and location. They had traded phone numbers, text messages, and life stories… They had become friends before they even established a starting line. They are RUNNERS, hear them roar!

To Samsonite, this was a character-defining moment. Either you are one who will show up and run through the rain, or you stay inside and run the treadmill. It was a real 2 Samuel 18:23 moment.

On Saturday morning everyone converged at Great Falls Park for a 7am gun time. Great Falls would have been included in the original race course. Now it was the entirety of their race course. They would run a 16.5 mile loop – twice for the 50k runners and 3-plus-another-mile times for the 50 milers. The loop included a famed local running route called “Difficult Run.”

While staging in the parking lot, everybody “met” each other for the first time – even though they had already become friends via emails. They made jokes about the kinds of phone calls that had been going around: “Hey, uh, are you, uh, running tomorrow?” “Yeah, dude, that’s the password. You’re in. Need directions?” They were also making jokes about the – believe it or not – lack of rain. “So who forgot to pack the rain?” “Attention non-racers: This run is cancelled due to clear skies!” That’s right – at 7am there still wasn’t a hint of storm in the sky!

After a local runner briefed them on the course and locations of impromptu aid stations, they took a group picture and their non-race began. There were 22 true grit warriors – many of them barrel-chested freedom fighters (i.e. members of the military) – who made it to the start line for what they dubbed the Renegade 50. The group was made up of mostly 50k runners, 4 50 milers (Samsonite included), and a few folks just out for the halfie.

10 minutes after “Ready, Set, Go!” the skies began to spit. Then stream. Then pour. Fashionably late, but far from forgotten – Tropical Storm Hanna had arrived!

The runners weren’t 4 miles in before the words “torrential downpour” became applicable to the conditions.

The 4 50 milers—and a West Point buddy of Samsonite’s who was going 50k—settled into a casual lead. If this had been a race, Samsonite would have been farther back and playing the race tactics game. But at 8pm on Thursday night, his focus had shifted from out-for-blood to out-for-fun. They talked, laughed, wasted too much energy… They had to bird-dog their way through parts of the first lap of the course, an energy expenditure that wouldn’t have been required on a marked race course. The folks who were at the 3 aid stations were twice as friendly as regular race volunteers. It takes a special person to sit in the rain for 8 hours while their loved one or two and a bunch of strangers keep hitting them up for bananas and orange slices.

Q. What’s difference between a Renegade 50 aid station volunteer and hockey mom Sarah Palin?
A. Hair and make-up artists.

The first lap was what could have been a good, even-split pace for Samsonite’s entire day. But then one of the dudes—this guy made the decision to drive up from Georgia…after the race had already been cancelled!—picked up his pacer at mile 20, opened the stride a little bit…and the Samsonite-mobiles just couldn’t hang back. Samsonite’s 20th-32nd miles were way…to…fast—and they felt so good, too! In these miles he got a little too rambunctious, too excited with running in such miserable conditions—and seeing the entire George Washington University girls’ cross country team didn’t help! (It was all he could do to not pull a Mav and chase skirt.) This rambunctiousness made Samsonite tire prematurely and he broke contact with the other two when his stomach began to grow surly at 33ish. Back at the start line/parking lot, he spent 5 healthy minutes in the bathroom before heading back out to finish the miles. At this point, 5+ hours into the rain, the river levels were way up. In fact, the course was now impassable at the 3.5 mile mark, where the trail became the river – or did the river become the trail? No matter, they had to do a few extra out-and-backs along a known 2-out-2-back loop to finish up. But finish up Samsonite did, in 7:50 (happily below his goal of 8 hours), having run at least the 50 miles – and with several course long-cuts and other directional misadventures, may well have surpassed the notional 51st or 52nd mile markers.

Samsonite’s favorite part of the day was the 4th river crossing. Take a look at the stepping stones (i.e. boulders) in these pictures from last year’s not-stormed-out race.

On each loop they had to cross these once on the way out and again on the way back. The first time they crossed, it had been raining for about an hour and there were about 8 inches of the rocks above water. No big deal—to Samsonite. (One of the locals he was with said that this was the deepest he’d ever seen the river… Fear is in the eye of the beholder, Samsonite learned. Samsonite danced right across, because he thought 8 inches of dry rock was a good safety net. This guy nervously tip-toed across because he knew that usually there were 36+ inches of dry rock…) On the second “out” loop water the tops of the rocks were wet, and some of them submerged an inch or two. Still, whatever, no big deal. They had waded through much deeper thus far. This time Samsonite tip-toed and the locals crawled. On the “back” portion of the second loop the rocks were covered by more than 6 inches of rushing river water – and they had no choice but to get across. Walking across wasn’t an option, because the current was swift enough that it would have taken their feet right out from underneath them. They got across by gripping the far side of each rock with fingertips, cautiously shifting left, searching for the next submerged rock, and repeating….14 times. Samsonite didn’t know if the current was swift enough to sweep away a car, but he’ll say for sure that the time spent in the fatal funnel that is the middle of the stream had him saying more than a silent prayer. The 5 leaders got across safely (perhaps a miracle, don’t tell Samsonite’s mother) and warned all other runners they passed to not even try to cross the river.

This was a non-race, no finisher’s medal, no post-race pasta, no age group awards, no schwag…and definitely no $600 for having been the 2nd place finisher in the 50 miler. However, at that finish line there were 2 smiling faces, a fruit bowl with some awesome pineapple, and an old park bench just begging Samsonite to take a seat upon it. And life was good.

People back at West Point have been asking Samsonite questions that require answers they’ll never understand. “Why do you run?” Explain “green” to a blind person. Samsonite’s favorite comments are, “Fifteen miles, cool…” and “So, did you get wet?” Samsonite has seen things that can’t be adequately described with words on paper. Get 2 DVD players, 2 copies of Forrest Gump, and play the running-across-America and the raining-in Vietnam scenes simultaneously (if possible, meshing the two screens into one) and your mind’s eye will have a base knowledge of what it was like out there.

This isn’t totally a fair statement, because—in the end—even Samsonite will admit that The North Face did the right and safe thing by canceling the race. But he still thinks this would make a sweet Renegade 50 t-shirt:

Price of registration after refund: $42.50
Cost of gas and tolls to DC: $200
Running through a category 3 tropical storm while Dean Karnazes is flying back home: priceless.

This race gave Samsonite a lot of confidence. Having not practiced sound racing strategy, taken a 5 minute bathroom detour, fought through a category 3 tropical storm on an unmarked course with 4 river crossings, and still running below his goal time? Put him on a real high-stakes start line – he’s ready to race. Next up for Samsonite is the USATF 50 Mile Championships at the Tussey Mountainback 50 in Pennsylvania on October 11, 2008. The Piraña colors will fly high and mighty, never wavering, never faltering.

Pass the weak, hurdle the dead.
Take all you can, give nothing back.