The Magnificent Beast: My Umstead 2013 mascot pick
Four hundred-plus training miles later and I’m as ready as I’m going to be for the Umstead Marathon, aka Baby’s First Official Marathon. The race directors allot a seemingly generous six hours to navigate the course, but there are a few cutoffs along the way that I must reach before the Giant Hook of DNF reaches out and drags me back to Camp Lapihio and sends me home without the coveted finisher’s pint glass. The cutoffs are giving me the most anxiety for my buck. Will I make them? Right now I’m wishing I were more on the side of average than slow.
“Buck up, Iris,” you’re saying. “You’ve got this in the bag!” You’re covering my Facebook wall with inspirational photos of slim, tanned girl-runners (who are easily 25 years my junior) sprinting confidently over mountain peaks. Seriously, friends, those girls are supposed to boost my confidence? Where are the photos of 40-something women who only just started running four years ago after spending their younger, prettier years under fluorescent office lights trying to build their careers so they can eventually get the hell out of New York and lead a quiet, saner life working for themselves and have a little free time to do things like raise chickens and watch birds and maybe take up running?
Oh, right, those photos are all over this website.
Basically I just don’t respond to the usual inspirational stuff. Like I said the other day at the Manic Runday Aid Station, I tend to do better when I go into a race unsure of myself. Every time I’ve started a race feeling like I had it in the bag, I totally crapped out. So, how will I do next Saturday? Honestly, I’m not sure. Twenty-six-point-two miles is really effing far, regardless of how easy and not far the ultrarunners around me make it look. And 26.2 miles around the trails and hills of Umstead? Well, it’s no Myrtle Beach, I’ll tell you that. We’ll just get there and see how it goes.
This race doesn’t do medals. Instead, finishers receive the aforementioned coveted Umstead pint glass emblazoned with that year’s animal mascot, which isn’t revealed until packet pickup and is the subject of much speculation in the preceding months (my bet’s on the Magnificent Beast, aka groundhog). I love useful race swag and am not so into medals. That said, in case I make it across the finish line in time, I did make myself a little Umstead medal to remind me later that I did okay:
If I DNF, I’ll award my DIY medal to another runner.
Wish me luck. I need it!
New Balance Minimus HI-REZ
11 comments
Skip to comment form ↓
cindy
February 25, 2013 at 8:38 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
Iris- I KNOW you are going to kill this. I’ve seen you in action. Traditional inspiration isn’t for everybody. So…….you WILL NOT DNF because I will find/stalk you and train you myself.
P.s. I’m in that 45-49 age group…..it’s not that bad. I want to see what most of those 25 year olds look like when they are my age…..just sayin’
Emily Hoar
February 25, 2013 at 8:49 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
It’s a (magnificent) beast of a race, but a great one. Good luck, see you out there!
Karen Murphy
February 25, 2013 at 9:27 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
One, you’re going to do great – you’ve put in the work and the cutoffs are not that scary – I promise, but two, that is the awesomest (threw that in for the editor in you) race medal ever! I might even consider doing the race for one of those!!
Scott Lynch
February 25, 2013 at 9:29 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
Need some self doubt and anxiety about the race? I’m your guy!
Umstead is *hard*. Amazingly, mysteriously difficult really. You think you’ve got it made after you finish the 5 miles of single track, only to have Turkey Creek trail smack you around from miles 10 through 20. And then there’s the “Corkscrew”, “Wheels Fell Off”, and “Cemetery” hills in the last 6 miles. I’m getting nervous just thinking about those last 6 miles!
Umstead is a race you can run well, IF you use your head and if you are prepared. Pace yourself properly, manage the endless hills with economy, and use your head! Unfortunately, I seem to leave my head at the starting line most races, so I have yet to finish Umstead well. But my god, do I love that race!
Bryan Hojo
February 25, 2013 at 9:29 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
Hummm? What do I say to this? I know this reverse psychology you are using on yourself. Promise less deliver more. It could work or it could embed itself in your head and and at mile 20 when your legs cramp, your cold, thirsty, and alone on the trail. You can decide to just curl up in a ball and wait for the 6 hour sweep to come through and scoop you up. Or you can dig down deep and think about the warm campfire in the lodge and the cooler of cold beer waiting for you.
Now is the time to think like a fish. They only have a 3 second memory so forget about what you have just done, focus on the 10 feet in front of you and keep moving. Before you know it the finish line will be in site. You will have 26 miles behind you. It will be over. Done, Kuput.
My fear more than the DNF is always been the FDL. As long as someone else is behind you, you got it made. I doubt they have pace groups at Umstead, but if the do climb in with one. Start with the 4 hour, then if need be drop to the 4:15. Do what you have to do to stick with one of these groups. They will get you to the finish well before the 6 hour sweep.
Or I could simply say, SHUT UP!
Stop over thinking this. Its “ONLY” 26.2 miles.
.:Ash:.
February 25, 2013 at 9:44 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
I thought about you yesterday while I ran up the big hills on the Turkey Creek Trail, Iris. They are hard no matter how many times you run them, because hills.
Marathons are hard, because, yes, that’s far.
And, of course, doing something for the first time is hard, too.
The week before my first marathon, I had real fears about forgetting how to run and bonking at mile 7. Neither of those things happened. I wore myself down, got chicked, and wanted to give up running somewhere around mile 22. My finish time was nowhere near what I dreamed it would be. But, in retrospect, the point of it was to do it. And, I did it. And, I’m happy for the experience.
So, I guess I’m trying to say that you’re going to do it. You’re going to pace yourself like nobody’s business. You’ve been running and training for a long time. And, you’re going to enjoy lots of things about this race. You’re going to hate parts of it, too. But, at least you’ll have birds to watch for. And, the Turkey Creek hills are usually over with before you know it.
I hope I get to see you out there.
Robyn
February 25, 2013 at 10:35 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
Ah, THERE’S the taper madness taking hold! Iris, it sounds to me like you’ve had a great training cycle. You’ve hit your miles, trained on trails, practiced your nutrition, avoided injury, and are surviving your ice cream-fueled taper. You’ve done everything you need to do! Your legs, your heart, and your mind are So. Freaking. Ready!
You’ve got this.
Michael Flores
February 25, 2013 at 11:42 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
For the fast peeps the six hour limit is pretty generous, but not everyone is lightning quick. Running in Umstead isn’t an easy prospect, and I think it sends a pretty poor message that ‘only the more speedy runners need apply’. Just my opinion…. which doesn’t mean much.
Iris
February 26, 2013 at 9:06 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
@EVERYONE: Thanks for your words of support and, um, warning. I hope I can remember all of this when I’m out there on Saturday. Whatever happens, I promise to give it my all!
D Wells
February 26, 2013 at 10:51 am (UTC -4) Link to this comment
The whistlepig would be a way-cool mascot! I’m sticking with owl as my prediction, however. I’m with you on the apprehension! My plan is to go out slowly, then back off! See you Saturday!
Iris
February 26, 2013 at 8:47 pm (UTC -4) Link to this comment
“Go out slowly, then back off” would be excellent on a shirt.