With my two ventures to the Holyoke Range area last week, it seemed appropriate for me to post an old piece written about 21-years ago, about the 7 Sisters Trail Race...
SIX
PACK CHALLENGE
One of the first things to remember about running,
especially in an event or race, is to run your own pace. Never ever let outside
influences affect you. It is very easy to get caught up in the excitement of a
big start, tearing off at suicidal speed only to suffer for it later. It’s also
easy to get in a group and despite realizing you may be going a bit too fast,
hang on until it’s too late. Or in my case, letting running store employees
intimidate me into something I knew better than to attempt.
Two days before the 7 Sister’s race, visiting the Running
Shop in Northampton, I engaged conversation with two salespeople about this
years event. They asked all the normal questions, one being "Are you
taking the 6 pack challenge?"
When I told them under two hours would be impossible for me,
they mentioned that Fred changed it to "under 2:10, and the only thing
worse than those who take the challenge without having even a remote
possibility of dipping under the limit are those who chicken out with a legitimate
chance at the prestige of beating Fred for a six pack."
At this statement, 41 customers in the store turned toward
me, sideways glances filled me with a trembling fear, and I stuttered out a
weak childlike "give me my application back I’ll take the challenge."
A small cheer lit up the store as I stumbled out onto main street mumbling
"what have I done ???"
The second thing to remember about running in a for real
trail race event, is never start at the front of the pack unless you plan on
winning the thing. We who were "courageous" enough to sport Aidida
stickers on our foreheads designating 6 pack status were allowed to start at
the front of the pack at the base of Bare Mt.
Most of you who know me realize that I usually start
mid-pack and like to comfortable slowly make my way towards the front, if I am
lucky that day. Well, this day I started out four spots behind Matt C, and
chased him up the mountain at a pace that left my legs shaky. Being in front
left me no choice but to run at a much faster speed than I normally would
attempt on such a vertical (it seemed) climb.
The half way point was reached in decent time, but by the
3/4 point of the race my legs had it. The pace was too much. My mind was
willing but my body couldn’t. I thought that maybe, if I was a consumer of
alcohol, it would have given me the little extra incentive I so badly needed to
push a little harder. But all I had on the line was a six pack of grape juicy
juice, and that wasn’t enough for me to risk blowing my heart out of my chest.
So on came the slowdown.
I inched up the two steep climbs approaching Hitchcock,
pushing my legs hands on knees to help with the effort. Thinking of excuses
(muddy, slippery, warm, record number of participants) on why I wouldn’t beat
Fred for the challenge (all the fine excuses I had bit the dust when I later
heard Matt C set a new course record, bad knee and all).
Suddenly realizing that if I had just run my normal pace I
may have been just as fast if not faster, those last two miles would have had
me energized and finishing strong instead of being tired and lazy, all the
early cushion I had lost at the end. I re-learned an important lesson, one I
had already experienced in the past, and never should have had to re-learn: Run
your own race, let the crowds go, listen to your heart and never bet on a trail
race (Nature will whip you every time).
{05/01/1996}
