Race Result

Racer:	Aaron Schwartzbard
Race:	Holiday Lake 50K++
Date:	Saturday, February 12, 2005
Location:	Lynchburg, VA
Race Type:	Run - 50 km
Age Group:	Male 25 - 29
Time:	4:05:17
Overall Place:	1 / 151
Comment:	Sometimes, even the long races come down to a few second.

Race Report:

(To save you the trouble of skimming past all the "filler" that normally goes into one of these, and to save me the trouble of writing said filler, this race report only has the Good Parts.)

... but I had forgotten that the cabins were uninsulated, with walls of 1 x 4 plywood, and two large screen (no glass, no shutters) windows. As I shivered in my 20 year old, cotton-fill sleeping bag, I finally drifted into slumber well past midnight, with visions of my warm, 15-degree bag --- the one I SHOULD have brought, and which was sitting in my basement at home --- dancing in my head. I had a dream. In my dream, I got out of the cold bunk bed, and snuck into one of the heated buildings nearby. I found a room with a soft, warm bed. I woke up refreshed at 7:30 am. Then I realized that I had missed the start of the race by an hour. I rushed to get ready, but it wasn't until 8:30 that I was ready to go. In the distance, I could hear David Horton, the race director, announce that the race leaders were finishing the first of two laps around the lake. So I did the only thing I could do: I jumped up and down in frustration. Then, much like the scene in the movie "Top Secret" where the main character wakes up from the nightmare of having slept through his final exams to find that he is *only* being tortured in an enemy prison, which brings a sigh of relief, I woke up to find that I was *only* shivering in a flimsy sleeping bag with frozen feet and unable to stop the 25 degree draft from creeping in to the opening at the top of my bag. I hadn't missed the race. Phew! (In my other dream that night, I was at home, where I was very excited to see penguins in my front yard.)...

... so we started running. But we hadn't gotten more than 15 feet into the race when I was jostled in quite the wrong way. Unable to recover, I hit the ground. I looked up to see 150 racers coming at me, but who, through the pre-dawn darkness and the tightly packed crowd, couldn't see me until the last moment it would be possible to swerve around me. Thanks to the agility of my fellow racers, I escaped my ordeal untrampled. However, I had fallen several second behind the leaders. I'd have a third of a mile on an uphill road to make up that distance before we would arrive at the single-track trail. I didn't intend to be the first person on the trail. However, the first couple miles are on narrow trails in the dark. It's difficult to pass other runners during those miles, and getting caught behind a slower runner can allow the leaders to sneak off the front. A mile or two into the single track, when crossing the dam, I finally had the chance to assess my position. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... By flashlights and silhouettes, I counted seven people in front of me. Eighth place, I can work with that...

... wished I knew who he was. On the long, straight stretches, I could see him in the distance. Maybe 100 meters ahead. Maybe 200. Half way through the first loop --- a quarter of the way through the race --- is too early to claim victory or concede defeat. Knowing that did nothing to calm the thoughts that drove me. "I'm not gaining on him." "Maybe he'll slow down." "Maybe I should take a risk and try to catch him before the end of the first loop." "Maybe I'll slow down." But I was determined to run a smart race. I was going to stick with the pace that I could maintain for the entire distance. He might be able to hold me off for the rest of the race, or he might fade sometime before the finish. Either way, I decided not to take any risks; I'd win or lose on a smart race...

... as volunteers refilled my water bottles, I took big gulps from a bottle of ensure. At half way through the race, the clock was ticking just a hair over two hours. A moment earlier, as I passed under the banner that marked the start, finish and turn-around point, I debated --- though only for a split second --- skipping this step. After several miles of twisty trail, I didn't know how big the gap to the leader had grown. It wasn't until I was 50 meters from the turn around that we finally passed, as he was starting his clockwise loop around the lake and I was finishing my counterclockwise loop. "I'm still in this. I can probably get close to the end before I run out of water. I shouldn't give up even the minute it would take to get through my only planned aid stop of the race." Then I remembered that there was a reason I had been doing a 30 mile run each weekend. It was for this moment --- race smart, and win it on the second loop...

... after passing the first few guys behind me, I saw that Cat was the first woman. "Go CAT," I called as we passed one another on the trail. She called back, "MINUTE UP," to let me know what the gap was. Then Bethany --- "Go BETHANY!" "Go AARON!" Annette was taking it easy, only a week after setting a course record at Uwharrie 40 Miler. I was only mildly surprised to see her so far up, but she looked relaxed and we exchanged encouragement in passing. This is my favorite part of this sort of course --- seeing the other runners. It's a rare competitor who doesn't have some sort of encouragement to offer. I also got the occasional report that the gap was "about a minute," which eventually became, "less than a minute." I was happy to see Mark, Philip, Al and Chris running together and looking happy...

... when the road straightened out, I caught sight of him. The gap had become narrow enough that I felt confident that I could catch him in the 12 or 13 remaining miles. Though I knew I could eventually pass him, I didn't want to do it any earlier than necessary. A close second is a nice position to be in with a few miles to go...

... but he just wouldn't give up. With only two miles to go, I knew that there were no more long, straight stretches where I'd be able to see if he was still 100 meters back, like he had been for the previous several miles, and like I had been behind him for most of the race. But from the way he had been racing, he was clearly The Real Deal. I could only assume that he would continue to race to the very end. When I reached the steep, narrow wooden stairs, I tip-toed my way down, well aware that my legs lacked the the agility to take them any faster. At the bottom, I ran as fast as I could across the dam, then up the trail on the other side. Just as I made my way around the next turn, I took a glance back at the stairs. I knew that if I couldn't see him, I had a gap of somewhere between 30 and 60 second --- a comfortable gap at that point. If I could see him, then he could see me as well, and that would renew the vigor of his pursuit. No one was there...

... and with the finish line in sight, I could finally relax. After more than four hours of hard racing, I could jog for those last few moments to finish in four hours and five minutes. After finishing, as people gathered to offer congratulations, someone asked who was in second place. Knowing that he couldn't be far back, I looked up the road, and pointed, "Him." Mark Lundblad, the guy I had been racing for 50 kilometers(++) finished only 50 seconds behind me. I was glad to get the opportunity to thank him for such a great race. It could have easily gone either way, and I have no doubt that that knowledge inspire some tough training in the months to come. Gotta be prepared for the next time we meet.