Saturday July 19
Back in April, when I didn’t get into the Mountain Marathon, I circled a different date on my calendar as my ‘big race of the summer.’ That date was July 19, and the race was the Crow Pass Crossing.
The Crow Pass Crossing is a foot race through the backcountry of the Chugach Mountains. It starts south of Anchorage, near Girdwood, and travels up and over Crow Pass, down to Eagle River which is about halfway through the race. You then ford Eagle River, which the race entry form describes as a ‘quarter-mile wide, glacier-fed, thigh-deep, torrent’ (its not quite a quarter-mile wide). From there the ‘trail’ (and I used that term loosely) follows Eagle River, with a couple more smaller river crossings, out to the Eagle River Nature Center, which is north of Anchorage and is the finish line. The whole race is between 24 and 28 miles (no one really knows because it is too hard to measure).
It is a very hard race, and because it is so remote, the race organizers need to make sure that everyone who enters is capable of finishing in under 6 hours (the maximum time allowed). A few more quotes from the entry form:
“This is a risk filled and dangerous race. Bad things can and usually do happen. Someone has been injured or imperiled each year. There are very real hazards and little chance for immediate medical aid if needed. Racers are asked to please assist their fallen brethren. COmmunication is nigh onto impossible.”
“Don’t be stupid. Do not make this your first experience with the trail. If you believe you are special, you are wrong.”
And the list of hazards:
Good stuff. The entry form seemed like overkill, but maybe I was underestimating this race.
My first major decision was what kind of pack to take. I had seen from a picture in the newspaper, that the winner usually only carries a water bottle belt and then duct-tapes the required clothing to it. Required clothing is: hat, gloves, long underwear top & bottom, windbreaker and pants. I had planned to take an Ultimate Direction pack (like a Camelbak). Was that too much? I couldn’t see how one water bottle would be enough. So I went with the pack and 96oz of sport drink.
Crow Pass Crossing start
I’m in there somewhere
With this decision made, I found myself at the start line bright and early at 7:00 am. The first four miles of the race were uphill to the top of Crow Pass. At the top, I think I was in 8th place. The next ten miles were downhill to the river crossing. I knew that downhill running was not my strong point, but I moved my legs as fast as I could over the rocky terrain. Soon after we started the descent, the trail became overgrown with cow parsnip, devil’s club, and other wonderful weeds. The trail was still rocky and uneven, but now I couldn’t even see my feet because of the poisonous weeds all around me. I kept pushing, hoping with each step that my foot would land safely. Occasionally, it would not, and I would trip or fall flat on my face. Every time, I had to bounce back up and keep pushing. It is extremely hard to run all out when you can’t see the trail under your feet.
For the first half of the descent, there were two guys coming up behind me, Mark Strabel and Ben Speiss. When they caught up, I turned to ask if they wanted to go by…except they weren’t there anymore. That was weird. After the race, Mark explained that he had tripped and fallen and lost a few seconds. Then when he got up and continued his pursuit, he came around a corner and there was a bear in the middle of the trail. I never saw it, but it must have been right there when I went by, since I was only a few seconds ahead. Mark waited some more precious seconds while the bear moved off the trail and then he continued.
Ben caught me a few minutes later, and I followed him down to the river. I found it much easier to follow someone else. The river was apparently much higher than usual. It came up to mid-thigh on me. Lars Spurkland claimed it came up to his waist, but since he is about 6’8″, he must have been crossing on his knees or way off course.
When we got out of the water on the other side, my feet felt really weird. The icy water had numbed them, but as the feeling started to come back, I felt like I was running in clogs – my shoes felt hard, unforgiving and about 4 sizes too big. The feeling went away after a few minutes and I began to feel really good. I passed Ben and began to pull away. I lost time at the next river crossing and he caught up again, but I pulled away again. I knew that these couple of miles were the best trail I would see all day and I needed to take advantage of it. I was moving pretty well. Every time I stumbled I would feel my calf muscles start to cramp, but they would release. I began to wonder how long I had before they cramped up for good. The cramping made me notice that, even though I felt strong, I also felt dehydrated. I was drinking plenty of my sports drink, how could this be? I began drinking more often.
Soon enough I was back into the thick brush, rocks, and roots and struggling to maintain my balance on every stride. Many of the rocks and trees had drops of blood on them from other competitors. I would do a ‘superman’ (fall forward with my arms out in front of me) every ten minutes or so. But I had to keep pushing.
I was feeling more and more dehydrated and I began to think that my sports drink was too saturated. By drinking it, I was dehydrating my body more and more. I began to crave pure water, but I had none. Should I keep drinking the sports drink? I wasn’t sure, but I had no other option, so I did. Just when I began to think that I was slowing down, I saw two people ahead of me. This was a good sign, maybe I wasn’t going really slow through the technical stuff. But over the next 20 minutes, I couldn’t close the gap. Maybe they saw me and speeded up. Just when I thought I was finally going to catch them and move into 6th or 7th place (not sure which), Ben came motoring up from behind. He was now moving very fast and I hitched a ride with him as we reeled in the two ahead.
The four of us ran together until Echo Bend, which is a significant landmark in the race because it is three miles from the finish and the trail is much wider from there on in. At this point we began climbing for a little while. The gap between Ben and the guy behind him was opening up. I waited to see if it would close. When it became obvious that Ben was getting away, I passed the other two guys and reeled Ben in. I was feeling really good. In fact on a number of the hills, all the other guys were walking and I was still running. I passed Ben and was in 5th place and feeling good.
But then a funny thing happened….I bonked on a downhill. Now, I should tell you that I never bonk. Lots of times, I will gradually get tired and slow down, but I almost never have the instantaneous bonk, where you go from feeling decent to feeling awful in a few minutes. In fact I can’t remember a single time this has happened to me. But it happened today. Just after I had passed Ben, we were coming down a hill and he flew by me. At first I thought it was just me not pushing down the hill fast enough, but I couldn’t pick it up. And when we hit the flat I dropped even further behind. Then Trond Jensen came flying by me like I was standing still. I hadn’t seen this guy all race, but now he was charging for the finish, passing about 8 people in the last few miles. There was another guy with him, who I thought was also a racer, but now I am not sure.
Trond Jensen (63) et al. start passing me (third guy) as I bonk
It was at that point that I knew I was bonking. Was it because of the sports drink? The fact that I am not in my best shape? The fact that I have never done a race longer than three hours? I didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. I just had to minimize the damage. Only two miles to the finish. I can do that.
I ran pretty well for the next mile, considering how awful I felt. One of the guys I had left behind earlier came by, but I thought I could hold my position from there on in. Then, with about a mile to go, I lost it. My pace slowed to a crawl. Mark Strabel came flying by me like I was standing still, which I might have been. I could barely move. Each step was a struggle. Fortunately there was no one else close behind me and I was able to fight my way to the finish line in 10th place in about 3 hours and 34 minutes. To show you how slow I was going at the end, Mark passed me with about a half mile left and he beat me by two minutes! Ouch.
I have never felt as bad after a race as I did for the first ten minutes that I sat at the finish line. They handed us all Snickers bars as we crossed the line, but all I wanted was water, and even that was hard to swallow. After a few cups of water, I began to get some life back, but my legs were shot. The were so tight I could barely hobble around.
Going into this race, I had no idea what to expect for a time. I was pretty sure I could do the course in under 4 hours, and I would have been thrilled to go under 3:30. I came close to my goal, and I was happy about that and my top ten finish, but I was still disappointed with my bonk. If I could have finished strong, I might have been sub-3:30 and top 5. I also noticed that everyone around me in the race was carrying a much smaller pack than I was. Something to keep in mind for next year.
I guess I did pretty well for a first-timer, its just that I always expect more. But hey, 3:34 isn’t too bad for a marathon distance through the backcountry of Alaska. And regardless of the finish, it was a worthwhile and fun adventure.
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