The uphill is steep. The downhill is even steeper. Image from White Mountain Milers.
In trail running, as in life, I like to know what I am getting myself into. Running this mountain series has been a bit of venturing into unknown territory, but I have spent time before each race, whether by talking to my coach or by poring over detailed course descriptions, gathering information about the course and what to expect. Despite each race having its own little (and sometimes big) surprises, this “research” has helped me to feel somewhat prepared and sometimes even allowed me to mentally check sections off as I work my way through each race. However, between focusing so much on the Loon Mountain Race two weeks earlier and then chasing my kids around with a bucket as all four of them threw up on me and my house before getting sick myself, this somehow slipped my mind. That was how I found myself staring at an elevation profile the night before the race trying to figure out what I had gotten myself into.
Emily Meehan enjoying the downhill at Cranmore. Photo by Gianina Lindsey/SNAPacidotic.
Now I know little to nothing about elevation profiles and percent grades but I do know the difference between up and down, and I can look at a line and know when it is gradual and when it is steep. I will tell you that I saw some pretty steep lines going up on this elevation profile, but what was even more shocking was the line going down. Let’s put it this way. The climb up, though steep (peak ascent grade at 30 percent), was spread over about two miles and averaged an ascent of 11.7 percent. This is pretty much on par with the other mountain races in the series, and, although 30 percent grade is tough, it is no Upper Walking Boss. The way down was spread over only a little more than a mile and averaged a 17 percent grade. That is pretty steep, particularly considering that, other than some singletrack through the woods, this was going to be through a mowed field—my absolute least favorite terrain.
Knowing that the ascent would likely be similar to other races I have done and the descent might be pretty intense, I arrived at the base of the mountain ready to go. It seemed like a pretty small crowd as we gathered at the start. I kept expecting more people to show up, but they did not and just before the start we were assured by the man at the microphone not to worry since the first time up is only half as hard as the second. Did I mention this was race was a 3.3-mile loop that you had to do twice?
Thankfully for my nerves we did not have to stand at the start for long before we were off. Maybe it was because the mowed portions of the field were not that wide or because I didn’t start far enough back in the crowd, but I felt pretty cramped at the beginning. I hate that feeling. It started to get steep pretty much right away, so I knew I was not going to be able to pass anyone. At the same time, I felt hemmed in with people in front of and behind me. Being a back of the pack runner, I guess I am used to being alone and it was weird to simultaneously feel like I wanted to go a little faster and yet like I was in the way of people that felt the same way. Thankfully it was only a few minutes before we started to spread out and I could breathe a little.
Just like the elevation profile had shown, it was about a half-mile climb before a short little slide down. I say slide because everything was wet and the terrain at this point became less grass and more loose dirt and wet rocks. In fact, on my second time around, I actually fell and slid down on my side leaving my leg a little beat up. It stung, but a trail race without a little blood might mean you did not try hard enough, so it was probably a good thing.
This downhill was just a short reprieve of about a quarter of a mile before the climb resumed. Having just come off the downhill and onto a gradual climb, I was able to set a slow and steady pace and run for the next half mile or so. After that, it started getting a lot steeper, so I started to walk. When the course turned into the woods, it became even steeper and I assume this is where that peak ascent grade was hidden. This was where knowing I had to do the same loop twice started hammering away at my confidence and making me doubt myself. It was a hard climb, but I caught up with my friend Kim, who had been a good distance ahead of me up to this point. She was having a hard time breathing and said she needed to stick together in order to keep moving forward. If I was worried about doing this again, she was terrified. I kept telling her that we would just worry about the first loop and decide whether or not to finish once we got back to the start. I knew full well that we would not quit but it was one of those times that a little white lie just seemed necessary.
That little lie saw us through the woods, but as we came out of them we saw that we were going to need to hold onto it a little bit longer. Just around the corner from the aid station at the edge of the woods we saw a tall, grassy wall. It could be described as a miniature version of what we had witnessed near the end of Loon just two weeks before. It was at this point, with the pressure of knowing I had to make it through the woods and then climb this wall again later, that I decided I had been duped and that Cranmore was more difficult than Loon. After a grumpy climb up the wall I said as much to the woman that stood at the top cheering us on. She just smiled and agreed that it was a tough one. At least then it was time to run down.
Initially the descent was not that steep, but we must have been cutting across the side of the mountain to get to the woods because my feet were slanted down sideways making it rather uncomfortable and slower than I would have liked. In the woods we hit the singletrack. I am pretty slow on singletrack, but it is my favorite terrain. It is the most mentally engaging and it is fun to jump over roots and hop from rock to rock. On one section I actually sat down and slid since it seemed the fastest way down and I was about to fall anyhow.
Before the singletrack turned back into grassy field I heard the pounding of feet behind me. It was the first place male runner on his second loop and he was coming fast. He was not the only one to pass me either. At least six men blew by me as I hopped and slid through the singletrack and then picked my way down the grassy meadow hill. Hearing these men approach from behind was a little intimidating but watching them was impressive to say the least. Having watched them fly, I am now certain that their speed can be credited to foolhardy, reckless abandon as much as to their talent, hard work and training. Fast people are nuts! Not only was the meadow as steep as that little picture in my mind had promised it would be, but it was covered in long, wet grass that seemed more pressed than mowed down and therefore hid all the ruts and holes along the way. That long grass is why mowed field is my least favorite terrain. When you are running uphill the long grass is like sticky fingers grabbing your feet and pulling them down and when running downhill it hides those sneaky little traps waiting to snare your feet and snap your ankles.
Eventually I did make it back to the start and was able to smile and joke with the onlookers as I ran by, asking them if I too could be done. Kim had run ahead of me and out of sight on the downhill so I scanned the crowd to see if she had in fact dropped out. I did not see her and I headed back up the hill to chase her down. I found her a few minutes later and she did not look happy. Strangely, I did not find the second lap as intimidating as the first and I knew that I had overreacted and that Cranmore was not harder than Loon after all. Perhaps it was because this time I knew what was coming ahead or that I knew I would never have to do it again after this. Maybe it was because I took it slow while I talked to Kim about whatever nonsense took her mind off the climb. Either way it was definitely easier. Little by little we made it to the top again and to the homestretch. I could not help but smile.
Kim and I pretty much stuck together on the descent, and though it was downhill I was getting pretty worn out. The steepness of the descent and my nervousness about where to step safely was causing me to run with the brakes on rather than letting my legs carry me down and my quads were getting really tired. What was worse was that I kind of wanted to cut off my right big toe. With each step down it pounded against the end of my shoe and about a quarter mile from the finish I was certain that I had ripped the toe nail off completely. Nail or no nail, the only way to finish was to keep moving—so I did. Thankfully it was only a few minutes later that I crossed the finish line at just over 2:02 . My quads were tired and my toe was still burning but as usual at the end of a hard run I felt happy.
Cranmore was a tough race. It was a steep climb with an even steeper descent that left me with a purple toe (though so far I still have the nail) and had me walking funny for at least three days. The mowed field that covered most of the course made footing tricky and messed with my confidence, and the views were not particularly impressive. However, I appreciated the smiling and helpful volunteers, particularly the three men at the aid station, and I am glad for the experience. I learned that I need to work some more on my downhill running and that it is actually possible to get sick of running downhill. Best of all, though, having completed six of the races in the mountain series I am now officially a mountain goat! I will still be at the next and final race of the series in October. However, someone might need to come and find me in the woods since it is the Bretton Woods Fell Race and it requires navigation. Unfortunately my orienteering skills are even worse than my running skills. Wish me luck!