Great weather, great setting, great volunteers, great small
group of participants, great race director, great T-shirt, great finisher
‘medal’, great experience.
And yet, I
find myself conflicted as to whether I would recommend this race to someone without
making sure they know what they are getting into. I suppose that’s true of most any distance
race. Running a distance race on a beach
is challenging. Running a distance race
on the beaches of the Outer Banks is a mental and physical rollercoaster. Soft sand makes for a very interesting day of
running. However, when this is what
you’re looking at around an hour into the race, even soft sand doesn’t seem so
bad.
The race started at 5AM, and despite waking up just after 2AM,
I still managed to roll into the parking lot with only 15 minutes to spare
before the start. Made a quick trip to
the bathroom – yes, a real bathroom with running water and everything … huge
plus for this race, and got to the starting line with 7 minutes to spare. Temperatures were already in the 60s, but
there was scattered fog and it felt pretty good for running. A couple quick pictures of the 27 folks that
made it to the start, and we were off.
The first couple of miles take you North along the beach
road until you literally reach the end of the road and end up on the beach in a
stretch known for a population of wild horses.
Sadly we saw no horses, continued North for a little while longer, then
made a turn and headed South down the beach where we would continue to head for
the next 29ish miles. It was just
starting to get light at this point, and there was patchy fog on the beach with
an unusual stillness to the air. The
houses in this area are out on the beach and are very large, and in the early
morning light and fog they looked like something out of a movie. Pictures didn’t quite capture the moment, but
I tried anyhow while I ran.
The beach at this
point was very wide, flat, and well-packed, boosting my confidence that this
wouldn’t be as difficult as I thought.
Silly, silly me.
Miles 1-14: “The sand
is my friend”
The first 2 miles were on the road, and the next 12 were on
sand that was generally flat and well packed.
I was aiming to settle into around a 9:30 pace, and was generally on
that pace, just a little faster.
Although a little warm, the morning couldn’t have been any nicer. The seas were very calm, and small pods of
dolphins could be seen just a few hundred yards offshore at several points
during the run. The sand makes for a
little more effort when running, and really rewards a midfoot strike versus
sinking your heels into the sand. My
legs felt good throughout this stretch.
We had to stop at each of the three aid stations, so I took
my time at the first station around mile 8, topping off the fuel belt, getting
a couple pictures taken, and even taking pictures of the volunteers, including
the race director. Life was good, and my
confidence was high. Running without a
time goal is very freeing.
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| Race director Zach on the left - awesome guy |
Miles 12 through 22 are through sections with only private
beach access, so no spectators/crews were allowed in this stretch. The last crew option was at mile 11.4. This meant if someone was going to meet me it
would be around 6:45 in the morning. In
the interest of marital harmony, rather than ask my wife, I asked my dad to
meet me at this stop with some drink refills and shoes and socks in case I
needed a change (we were staying with my parents for the race). With no porto-johns allowed on the beach,
this was also the last public restroom option available until around mile
23. I may or may not have already taken
care of my internal fluid levels a little earlier on the dunes, so I didn’t
need the restrooms or the change of clothes.
A couple more pictures, a change of drink bottles, and I was back on my
way.
The going stayed good until right around mile 14. High tide was around 7AM. Soon after 7AM I hit the 14 mile mark. Right around the 14 mile mark the sand took a
cruel, cruel turn towards soft. The kind
of soft where you’re battling for traction.
The kind of soft where you wonder if walking would be faster than
running. The kind of soft that makes you
question your choice in races.
Miles 15-31: “Who the hell put all this sand here?”
The second half of this race was mentally and physically
tough. The sand turned soft and stayed
soft from miles 14 to around 27. After
that it got a little better, but my legs were so tired that I was having to mix
in some stretches of walking. There were
times when the sand got so soft that I switched to walking because it really
was faster than trying to run and just drilling holes with your feet. I knew there would be some soft sand in the
back half of the race based on my run about a month ago, but this was much
worse than I expected. Through mile 15
my slowest moving pace was 9:45/mile.
After that nothing was under 10:24, with a slowest mile at 14:16. It was frustrating and mentally taxing. Eventually I fell in with another runner and we
commiserated and tried to encourage each other.
The third aid station was at mile 24.3. My wife and kids were waiting for me at this
one, and I’ve never been so happy to see them.
I lingered as long as I could, got doused with cold water, readied
myself for the push to the finish, and set off again.
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| Still able to smile .... who do I think I'm fooling? |
 |
| My top-notch crew in action |
 |
| Should have done a lot more of this |
At this point the temps were in the 70s, and the sun was in
full effect on the beach. My fueling
plan had held up well, so my stomach was holding strong. I was actually feeling a little dehydrated,
and could have used one more aid station.
I got in a pattern of running .9 miles, and walking .1, which helped
with the tiredness and dealing with the still squishy sand. Finally the finish was in sight, and about a
quarter mile from the finish my son showed up to run in to the finish line with
me.
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| Some unexpected and much appreciated company for the finish |
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| Me and my boy ... good stuff |
I don’t think I went more than about 10 feet past the finish before I slammed on the brakes. Stopping was a beautiful thing.
 |
| Put a fork in me ... I'm done |
Lots more post-race pictures, a quick dip in the ocean to
‘ice’ my legs, and this one was in the books.
Overall this was a great experience. The race was extremely well run, and the
small size of it gave it an intimate feel that was fun and made things like the
post-race party a possibility. They
tried to make everything local. Instead
of finisher medals they gave out drawings of the Currituck Lighthouse (the
start of the race) by a local artist that were numbered n of 35, where n was
your place in the race. Here’s the one I
got for finishing in 5th place (5:34:49).
They gave awards for the top three finishers, which were
duck decoys carved by well-known local artists, along with a writeup on the
decoy and the artist. The shirts and the
logo were very cool, and my shirt actually fits, which has been hit-or-miss for
me in other races.
Overall I would recommend this event, but would caution that
folks know what they’re getting into with the possible sand conditions. The thing with the beaches here is the
conditions could be completely different next year. They actually could be completely different
next week. All a function of tides and
storms. These beaches are constantly
moving and changing, regardless of how much the residents may try to fight it.
My legs felt surprisingly good a couple days out from the
race, and the only thing with some lingering discomfort is my right knee, which
doesn’t feel any worse than it did in the couple weeks leading up to the
race. Fingers crossed I may have made it
through a race without a visit to my orthopedist friend. Glad to have this one done, and looking
forward to whatever may come next.
Maybe
time to go even longer???
