Runalong

I've always wanted to do this race but it's a long way away and conflicts with a lot of other races I like to do but I finally "just did it" this year. I had to finish the sermon and a bunch of other stuff first so it was 12:17 Friday afternoon before I left for an almost six hour drive and 10:20 Saturday evening when I returned from a nearly six hour return trip. In between the race itself took me just short of six hours (5:53).

On the way up I passed Callahan's Restaurant near Ashland. It was at Callahan's a few years ago that I, as a newbie ultrarunner, met Scott McQueeney, with lots of UR experience, including Badwater, though he was a few years younger than I. We talked quite a bit over dinner one night just before the Siskiyou Outback 50K. A few years ago I was going to run McD but it ended up on the same day as my daughter's graduation from college. Decisions, decisions.... (just kidding!). Scott ran McD that year and finished right about the time I would have finished, then collapsed and died of a massive heart attack. Running makes your heart stronger, but if you have bad genes...

In Corvallis I ran into the same (mostly) bunch of Ashland runners I ran into six years ago in Auburn, CA just before my first ultra, the Way to Cool 50K. Now, as then, they invited me to join them for dinner.

As is the case with most of my races, McD has virtually no flat sections, only ups and downs. The RD's had asked me if I would make a film of the race as I had of the Miwok race a couple years ago but I said not this time, I wanted to see the course first- maybe next year. Lots of people at the race knew me because of the Miwok video (and/or because of other races or the internet or maybe even direct revelation from God- running up the trail a guy I'd never met, upon hearing I was from Redding, asked if I was Mark Swanson- he never did say how he surmised that).

Also in the race was John Stumbo, pastor of the Alliance church in Salem, one of the largest in our denomination. Since I have a long streak of coming in first place in the Pastor's division (which exists primarily in my head), this could be a problem. He ran the race last year and finished in 6:06. I was hoping for a 5:35 finish, so I thought I'd be OK.

I talked to John before and after the race. I'd met him once when he spoke at a pastor's conference, but I couldn't remember what he had spoken about or if we had talked at all. I was quite surprised when he told me I was the reason he was here, his "inspiration" and recounted, seemingly verbatim, a conversation we had had in which he had asked me about running, I had told him how I started out just running to the end of the driveway, etc, etc. We continued to talk a little at the beginning of the race but I'm a slow starter and he looked like I was holding him back so I let him take off (he did), figuring I would catch him later when my superior sense of pacing would enable me to pass the too-fast starters.

The course was fine: Typical Oregon forest and ferns and a couple spectacular viewpoints. One of the aid stations was populated (infested?) with hippies: Hippies with really, really bad hair. BTW, did you know that when Oregon runners blow the snot out of their noses it lands on the ground and interacts with the decaying vegetation and turns into banana slugs? Some second generation Oregonians have actually evolved to the point where they just blow fully-developed slugs out of their noses!

Anyway, the early going was marred by the insistence of some runners to continually shout "Aflac!" at each other. Maybe something to do with the U of O Ducks? I'm not sure if the shouters were for or against the Quackers. I have to admit that through hours of practice they had virtually perfected their spot-on imitations of the obnoxious TV duck.

Back at the ranch I was having some trouble. I just couldn't generate much energy going up hill. I had trouble running the easy grades and when I walked I couldn't walk as fast as normal. My mind would tell my body to speed up and my body would reply, "try and make me!" My mind would reply, "we've been here before body, I have ways to make you accelerate," and my body would reply, "neener-neener" and refuse to speed up. Just one of those days.

On the downhills, however, I was, as usual, SMOKIN'! Younger runners would hear me bearing down on them from behind and would step aside and cower in fear as I sped by, followed by a sonic boom. I was just flying down steep grades, gliding over roots and rocks, the personification of power and grace. This is important so listen up, kids (well, it's not important to you, but it is to me, so listen up anyway).

You see, if there is one thing I've noticed about old people, it is that they don't like going downhill or down anything. They move slowly and gingerly and cautiously. I, on the other hand, was flying downhill recklessly and fearlessly. The lesson is obvious: Old people don't do that. I do do that. Therefore, I am not old. I told you it was important.

But all in all it was a tough race what with all those uppity sections of trail. I finished in 5:53, about 30 seconds a mile slower than I'd planned. Rev. Stumbo, on the other foot, finished in 5:10. I was still the fastest out-of-state pastor.

Anyway, it doesn't matter who won or lost (the actual winner set a course record at just under 4 hours) or how fast I went. All that matters is that I'm not old.