Bigelow Hollow State Park Winter Run
February 15th, 1997 - Union, Connecticut
We were hoping for snow. Instead we got slush.
To misquote Chief Dan George,
“It’s a good day to run”. So we
did. Started out on snow covered dirt
logging road at 9:00 am sharp - ‘veteran’ Farmer Ed, ‘used to be a good trail
runner, but now’s a roadie’ Leon C, ‘warm up slowly, but kick butt later’ Johnny
Bandit, and myself (the Old Goat).
Conditions were nice; mid-30’s, no wind, and slushy. Everybody kept needling me at the start about
running with just shorts on, but soon they would realize it was they who were
overdressed. They blamed it on the pace
- I wouldn’t hear a word of it. I
believe it was because this is my territory.
As we proceeded on, even though it was at a leisurely pace, I became
aware of where I would place each footfall to cross a stream, to go through
some downed trees, to go around rocks, and where the other guys would place
theirs. Each of my steps, subconsciously
would account for minuscule gains in efficiency, but these would add up. Ha, ha, local knowledge lives!
After a half an hour, we ran into
a couple of good hills which of course had to be climbed. Mr. Ed was wearing a pair of P235 R14 slicks
which gave him the traction of 10W-40 on Teflon. This, though, proved to be rather funny (just
don’t get in front of him on the downhills).
Remind me to requisition Adidas to make some mud-grabbing size 97EEE’s
for him.
Crested the hill and flew down
the other side (god I love downhills).
Back on an ice-covered road and “skated” down the rest of the hill to
the southern end of long, thin Breakneck Pond.
Ran out on the ice and waited for the other three. Got some strange looks from some stranger
guys. To boldly go where no summer
runner could go before! (or after for that matter; unless you were J.C.). “You’re intending to do what?”, they said as
they checked their maps again, and continued to sink in about 3 inches of slush
that covered the pond. “Up the gut for 1
3/4 miles” I said. “But if it’s too soft
we can go off onto a trail after about 1/3 mile.” So as that old disco song goes...Drink a
little water, eat a little GU, get wet today!
We did, we did, and we surely did.
The ice was solid underneath, but the slush layer on top would have made
any 7-11 Manager green with envy envisioning a 96 acre Cherry Slurpee.
I was a bit disappointed for Ed
and John for they’ve never seen Breakneck Pond before (which can only be
accessed by foot; it being about 5/8 mile from the nearest tar road and dirt
road access fenced off) and with the warm, misty fog that was ever present, the
views were less than their normal fantastic.
This is truly one of the last bastions of uncivilization left in CT and
I pray it stays that way.
By the way, we were wimps and
diverted off the pond and onto the Nipmuck Trail. This section, the northern most of the
Nipmuck, is about 8 miles north of the 3/4 turnaround mark on the Nipmuck
Marathon and goes for about 3.5 miles to end at the Mass. border. Normally an excellent run-able trail, add
some good ice and you get panic city.
The side hill pitch throws you toward the pond. Turns are negotiated by running into trees
and hoping you bounce off in the right direction. And there are lots of
turns! The pace wasn’t fast, but we got
a workout.
Eventually got back on the icy
dirt roads (today’s staple) a few hundred feet short of the Mass. border and
headed back southward. It was here where
“Oh, you’re going too fast” John S’s. GU kicked in and he flew by us like we
were rime-ice statues. Watch out for
this guy at the 7-mile mark of a race.
Continued to bounce along the logging roads - trying to avoid all the
downed trees from that ice storm a few months ago - and held a good
conversation the whole way. I’ve got to
believe that more of you sofa spuds would enjoy such tomfoolery if you got out
here with us and gave it a go.
With Leon wheel-suck’n the whole
way (he said my footprints were good traction - I think he just wanted me to
test the road ice. If this Clydesdale
didn’t go through, he surely wasn’t go to.
Come to think of it, is drafting legal in trail running?), J Bandit on
his heels and the Farmer a few steps behind that, we coasted down the last hill
to the cars. Ten icy miles in 1:52 with
a couple of water / picture breaks.
Chief Dan George was right.
The Old Goat