St Pat’s Trail

I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day early this year at Sunday’s St. Patrick’s Day Trail Marathon in NYC (thanks Allstate and Forrest for the tip). This event was part of a new series of free, informal fat *ss style races scheduled on or near all the major holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and Valentine’s day so far, with Easter up next). Held in Van Cortland Park in the Bronx, the website touts them as a healthy alternative to stuffing your face (or, for me, an additional excuse to stuff my face!) The course consists of two linked loops (mostly on gentle, non-technical dirt and crushed gravel trails), run once for a 10K +, twice for a half-marathon, and four times for a marathon.

I am not usually a fan of looping loop courses (still traumatized by Pinelands!), but somehow the lure of the jumbo, bright-green 7-inch bagels pictured on the website became irresistible. Worth a long run and a long drive. Even worth getting up earlyish on “spring ahead” day.  But, wait! … I already had a local running date arranged with my friend Sandy. A road-running friend who had never shown the slightest bit of interest  (in fact, seemed actively disinterested) in trail running.  Hoping the luck of the Irish  would be with me, I called her and suggested a slight venue change from Sleeping Giant to the Bronx.  Shockingly, a road trip appealed to her and we decided to take the plunge.  She signed on for the half, Diana opted to join us for the 10K, and I planned to do a “three-quarters marathon” (with the possibility of doing the full if all went well and I didn’t feel too guilty keeping Sandy and Diana waiting). Three loops (19.5 miles) seemed like a worthy long run goal, since I hadn’t run more than 13.1 since October.

After an effortless 75 minute drive, we found curbside parking minutes from the start and talked a convenience store owner into unlocking his creepy bathroom for us.  Sandy pointed out a rat-sized mouse trap in the environs, which I had neglected to notice in my morning haze.  We escaped unscathed and located the starting area on the grassy “parade grounds” across the street.  The (non) registration tables were symbolically situated next to a large statue of a tortoise and a hare.  After donning our new green beanies and matching “777” bib numbers, we decided to get an early start around 9:30 am (as runners were invited to do since timing was on the honor system).  We set off in high spirits with several other green-clad runners, hoping for the best since no one seemed to be able to explain how the course was marked.  All appeared to be going well until–after a half hour’s journey over an expressway and through a wooded area–we suddenly found ourselves back at the parade grounds, having apparently skipped one of the course’s component loops.  On the positive side, we arrived just in time for the official race start, marked by the sounding of a massive Chinese gong.  We  fell right in line behind the small pack (75 or so?), hoping they would lead us to the loop we had missed.  This elusive loop turned out to skirt parts of a golf course and lake, before heading back into the woods.

My favorite moment of the run occurred as I watched Sandy get her first taste of “real” trail running on a brief technical descent full of rocks, branches, mud, and water. She danced confidently as she found her line through the muck, letting out a loud whoop of excitement and adrenaline.  (On the second time through, she sealed her “non-virgin” status by taking a tumble that splattered her tights with mud).  Before we moved on to a long, flat section we dubbed “Long Wharf” (which seemed as interminable as its namesake in the New Haven road race), she acknowledged,  “I see why you like this!  This is like playing! I might be able to get into this!”   Fortunately, we were able to complete the half marathon together without too much difficulty by picking up the loop we had missed the first time around (doing B-A-B-A rather than A-B-A-B).

My memories of the solo part of my run are less vivid.  I mostly recall actively soaking up the sunshine, blue skies, and 50 degree weather (how long will it be before we start to take all that for granted again?)  I seemed to be effortlessly orienting to the present moment, which is probably why the four double loops didn’t feel as tedious or mind-numbing as they had at Pinelands (usually, it is the lure of the unknown that most powerfully propels me forward).  Trusting that things would become clear as I proceeded, I didn’t even obsess about whether to run my planned  three-quarters marathon or to shoot for the whole thing. The traffic on the trails became very sparse as the afternoon wore on, but before I knew it, I was back at the start with only a half-loop (4 miles) to go. Though I was a little bored and ready to be done, all bodily systems were holding up well.  I knew I was too close to finishing  the marathon to stop, so I sent Diana and Sandy to the pub across the street and settled in for my final tour of the lake, golf course, and Long Wharf.

My reward for completing the marathon was a bag o’ chocolate coins and the chance to hit the Chinese gong with a large mallet. It made a lovely, booming sound, somehow even sweeter and more resonant this time around! I signed my name in the finisher’s logbook, then hobbled across to the pub to attack the remains of the girls’ sweet potato fries. (If you look up results from past races, you’ll see a scanned image of the logbook, with runner’s names and times in their own handwriting). I was excited to be able to complete the distance comfortably, despite my lingering ankle injury and limited training this winter.

In summary, I appreciated the vision, creativity, and festive atmosphere of this free, community event and enjoyed the lively company of the other (mostly green-clad) participants.  While the course is not the most scenic or challenging, it was pleasant, and made for a great, gentle introduction to trail racing (and I imagine a wonderful change for pavement-bound New Yorkers). I told Sandy about another, very scenic, not-so-gentle trail race in early April, but the verdict is still out on that…

If you go to a future holiday marathon, be sure to bring your own food and drink, as the limited supplies disappeared quickly (and the green bagels I so admired failed to materialize at all!)  Bottom line: I don’t plan to be hauling to the Bronx for every holiday race, but it could be a good option if you find yourself needing a break from in-laws or your usual running partners are out of town. I bet Halloween would be a good one.