West Rock and the Sedan Chair

After two weeks in Italy overindulging on pasta and gelato, I figured I’d better get back to some sort of running routine (I’d done a lot of outstanding hiking while I was away, but almost no running).

I took advantage of my body being on European time to do some morning runs and decided to check out the West Rock Challenge 9-Miler (a fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity), despite the unfortunate 7:30 am start time. I was curious to experience a familiar after-work running venue in the different context of a race. My friend Sandy (the road runner I have been attempting to convert) agreed to join me, despite some trepidation about the terrain, given her lack of trail running shoes or experience. We got to the start with only one minute to spare, joining a small band of unfamiliar faces (though there were two Bash shirts in attendance and I now know Rachel was also present!) Since I had bimbled the full Cockaponset loop the day before (my longest run in months ), I wasn’t sure how my legs would hold up and planned to make it a social run.

As we set off on the dirt road around Lake Wintergreen, lovely in the morning light, Sandy was surprised by the unexpected appearance of a long-lost friend and former running partner. They quickly set about updating each other on the eventful last few years of their lives. After a mile or two, I decided to give them room for their conversation and continued on at my own pace.

The first section of the race was a fun, varied romp with alternating smooth and technical sections, a few guardrails to climb, and some rocky drops to leap. I encouraged an aspiring virgin Bluff runner as we neared the big climb. The air was humid and I found the long, rocky push to the summit extremely grueling. Given my depleted legs, I was barely able to sustain a run and saw that most of my compatriots also seemed to be tottering indecisively between running and hiking. By the time I reached the top, I was so exhausted and focused on my feet, that I almost forgot to take in the stunning views of New Haven from the summit. I ate a few dried apricots, hoping that the brief road section on the ridge would give me time to recover before the dicey technical descent down to the notch over the Merritt tunnel and back to the Lake. By this point, runners were pretty spread out, but I had no shortage of company, as there there were pairs of spirited Quinnipiac student volunteers deployed to every remotely ambiguous trail intersection. It was a relief to hit the dirt road on the back side of the lake and to know I was past the most difficult sections. My body seemed to go on autopilot as I settled into a brisk jaunt over the twists and turns of the familiar, well-loved lower trails. I managed to pass a few folks on the flats and downs, but then struggled to keep my momentum and stay ahead of some of them on the rolling ups (a familiar pattern for me in races…yet I keep avoiding those Sleeping Giant hill repeats! Those who indulge–please invite me along next time!) The final 1.5 mile stretch of the race is on a completely flat, completely straight dirt road. On training runs, I sometimes I appreciate the coasting after a venture to the rocky upper reaches.

But on this occasion, as on many others, it felt extraordinarily long and boring. I started to daydream, remembering other West Rock experiences….my initial explorations with Catamount…a snowy, single-digit group bimble (when Shellygirl claimed the overlook chair!)…a nighttime run with Allstate on that same section with only one dying headlamp between us… The sudden lack of trail obstacles to negotiate made it hard to stay focused and maintain my pace. I caught myself inadvertently slowing down several times, until the sound of a runner thundering up behind me finally motivated me to kick into gear and finish strongly.

The appealing finish line spread hit the spot perfectly– lots of coffee, fresh fruit, and bagels. Exactly what I like to eat at 9 am on a weekend (but usually BEFORE running). I even indulged in a delicious bonus donut (yeasty and sugar coated), which made me wonder why I don’t eat them more regularly. I started to walk back to the finish to cheer on Sandy and James, but they appeared before I could get to them, having made very speedy progress. Sandy and I were the top two (of three) in our Master’s age group and I was thrilled that she’d felt confident and done so well during her first “real” trail race. I was also delighted to select from the award table a very generous gift certificate to Ibiza wine bar. In keeping with the Habitat for Humanity theme, race trophies included engraved hammers for the overall winners and pieces of recycled lumber for age group winners (not quite as distinctive as the Soapstone rocks!).

I would definitely recommend this very enjoyable and well-organized local race (which also included a 5K option). While trail race volunteers always seem to be a good sort, I found this crowd to be exceptionally friendly and dedicated to the enjoyment and well-being of their participants, as well as to the cause that it supported. It seemed a shame that more runners weren’t present to enjoy the occasion. In addition to an interesting and varied course, there were lots of nice extras, including tech T-shirts, massage therapy, and well-stocked, eclectic goody bags (playing cards, 5 razors, bakery granola, gu, toothbrush and toothpaste, water bottle, chabasso bread). In one of the morning’s amusing moments, I felt like royalty for a few instants when the massage therapist summoned two burly runners to lift and carry the massage table I was inhabiting to a more pleasantly shady location. Truly a full-service race experience!