By Dave Munger, Belinda West, Cliff Weston, and Sarah Ferris
DAVE: It seemed like a good idea at the time. On Facebook last Thursday, Théoden posted an offer to give a free entry to a team of 4 runners in the Massacre Marathon. The catch? They had to assemble their team in under an hour and be the first to comment on his post. Somehow I talked three other DARTers into joining me for a race that would be staged just three days later, and before we knew it, Sarah had won the contest and we were signed up to go.
The first order of business: Come up with a name for our team. In the spirit of our founding, I suggested “Team Spontaneity” and by virtue of no one else caring very much what we were called, that became our name.
The next order of business: Figure out exactly what we had signed up for. As it turns out, this was an unusual marathon relay. Instead of running just one leg each, the race was divided in to 16 segments. Each member of a four-person team would run four segments of 1.6 miles (leg 1 was actually 2.2 miles to get the total up to 26.2).
Finally, we actually started thinking about how to accomplish this. A look at the weather forecast suggested it would be in the 30s at race time. Maybe we ought to bring some warm clothes? The race was in Greensboro, so we figured out a carpool plan (important decision: Whose Prius to take — Belinda’s, Cliff’s, or Dave’s?).
Before we knew it, it was Sunday, and Dave, Belinda, and Cliff were driving north on 77 holding large cups of Summit Coffee and trying to figure out why we had agreed to this. I’d never even run with Belinda, and had only run with Cliff once. But after a few minutes of conversation it was clear we all got along fine, and 90 minutes later we were pulling into the parking lot in Greensboro.
Team Spontaneity at the finish. We were so spontaneous we didn't take a picture at the start.
DAVE: I might as well let you know how my race went.
I felt like I should be able to maintain a 6-minute pace during my legs, but I wasn’t sure how the cold would affect me. I decided to go out hard during the first leg, my one and only 2.2 miler, and see how it felt. I had run the 1.6-mile loop during warm-ups and it hadn’t seemed bad. There were a couple of small hills but nothing we don’t see in Davidson. What I didn’t know is where the extra 0.6 miles for the first leg would come from. At the top of the first big hill, I found out: We’d turn off on a side road and keep climbing! I found I was passing people on the hill, so I guess I hadn’t gone out too aggressively! Finally we turned around and got a merciful downhill rest. I kept pushing the pace and before I knew it I had climbed another hill and was striding towards the exchange zone.
Me approaching transition 1. My hat was backwards because I was worried it would blow away in the wind.
I had a moment of panic when I couldn’t see Belinda, but soon she popped out in front of me and I handed off to her before stopping to catch my breath. I had completed the first leg in 13:14 for a 6:01 pace. So far, so good. After Belinda, Sarah, and Cliff completed their legs it was time for me to head out again. It had been so cold in the interim that I actually wore my ski jacket during warm-ups!
Cliff passed me the baton and I took off once again, hoping for another 6:00 pace. I found that I was passing lots of runners, but there was one guy in a black singlet about 50 yards ahead that I just couldn’t catch. Meanwhile my feet felt like ice cubes, and each step reverberated up my body. Was I gaining on that guy? I didn’t know, but every time I glanced at my watch, my pace seemed slower. Despite the fact that this lap was 0.6 miles shorter than the last one, it seemed interminable. Finally I reached the downhill to the finish, black-singlet guy still 30 or 40 yards ahead. I spotted Belinda and handed off. I finished this leg in 9:52 for a 6:10 pace.
The third leg felt even tougher, and just a bit colder. Once again there was a guy 30 or 40 yards ahead of me for the whole lap, and once again I couldn’t catch him. Was it the same guy as before? I never found out. I gave it everything I could as I strode into the finish. I was a little slower this time: 10:02 for a 6:16 pace.
I decided that the reason my feet were so cold could be due to my standing around so much between legs, so this time I tried sitting on the frozen earth for a few minutes; it seemed to help. I envied the people who had thought to bring chairs to sit on and sleeping bags to help warm themselves up between legs.
Soon it was time to run the final leg. I dashed out as fast as I could. It seemed as if the day had warmed up just a bit, and my feet weren’t so cold. This time there was no runner in sight that was running my speed. As before I was passing a lot of people, but it was difficult to figure out my ideal pace. I tried to remind myself that this was the final leg and make myself go faster. I dashed up to the transfer zone and made my final handoff to Belinda. I was done! It may have been inevitable: I was a little slower on this leg: 10:07 for a 6:17 pace.
That was a tough race, made even tougher by the extreme cold. It was difficult to figure out exactly what to do to stay warm between legs, and how hard to push it, knowing you needed to save at least a little for later on. Overall, I’m happy with my performance, and it was great having teammates cheering me on!
I’ll let Belinda tell her part of the story here:
BELINDA: Instead of my usual yoga class followed by a solo long run, I did something different on Sunday. I got into a car with people I had just met so we could drive 90 miles to do something I have never done.
As if running with three very fast DARTers wasn’t nerve-wracking enough for this newbie, arriving at the race site at Greensboro Country Park increased the intimidation factor. Many of the teams who arrived before us had brought tents, chairs, sleeping bags, generators, and portable space heaters. Did we miss a memo? Team Spontaneity found a spot to dump our comparatively meager yet adequate pile of gear and chose our line up: Dave, me, Sarah, Cliff or Fastest, Slow, Fast, Faster. My three teammates took off for a warm up/recon lap while I guarded our stuff. (Well, actually — since I’ve never participated in a relay, I spent that time offering up fervent prayers that I wouldn’t do something stupid like trip Dave as he was handing me the baton or smack Sarah in the head with it as I was handing off to her.)
It seemed a good omen when I took Dave’s handoff on the first leg without injury or embarrassment to either of us. I was pleased to find that while the course had some rolling hills, none were as tough as the hills on the DART routes. What did surprise me was how difficult it is to breathe without pain when you’re running against a bitterly cold headwind. Is it possible to get frostbite of the lungs, I wondered? I finished my first leg and my speedy teammates assured me it was good enough.
Me handing off to Sarah. Somehow no one managed to get a good picture of me during the race.
The second leg was without incident and I finished only 5 seconds slower than the first. On my third leg, I came up behind a very small boy trudging along with a baton. He looked so utterly forlorn that the mom gene kicked in and I stopped to ask if he was okay. He assured me he was and I gave a fleeting thought to asking if he wanted me to run with him before remembering that a sedate 15 minute mile might be pushing the patience of my teammates just a bit too far.
Here I am starting my final leg. Once again photos were elusive!
By the final leg, I was looking speculatively at the bridge which transected the lake on part of the trail but the specter of Rosie Ruiz kept me on course, finishing a second slower than leg 3. Ah negative splits, one day soon we will become better acquainted.
Any day I can silence the voice inside me telling me that I can’t do what I’m doing is a good day. Today I also I had the honor of serving on a team with three fine runners who also happen to be very nice people and that made this a great day.
DAVE: Here’s Sarah’s report on the day’s events:
SARAH: Fast people with fast sunglasses wearing fast singlets on a 21 degree day. They came by fours. It reminded me of my first time at Penn Relays. Our tiny team had no two sweatshirts that matched. We were surrounded by groups of four in brand new uniforms running military-style quick step in perfect formation around the track. This time I was part of a crew assembled in less than an hour. What did I get myself into?
I tried my best to warm up. Ha! I did strides in my winter Carhart jacket, a definite first. As I waited to get my first hand off, I wondered how I’d keep warm without gloves. Just then, Belinda showed out of nowhere. I grabbed the baton and took off like a bullet. It was like some instinct or flashback to school days. The baton was in my hand and so I had to fly. Now I just had to hold it for 1.6 miles. My hands turned to sheer pain; but at least it made me forget pain elsewhere. It was such a rush of excitement to glide around the turns and go uphill. It felt as though the hills were giving me more strength. But as I passed off to Cliff, the cold set in shortly after and I realized that I’d have to figure out a way to stay warm between hand-offs. Luckily, the sun was slowly coming out and the people watching took my attention off the cold.
The team in first was averaging a 5:11 pace. It was so thrilling to watch as they soared through the turns in sleeveless shirts and shorts. They couldn’t have been cold; they had adrenaline to keep them going. The next two laps were just about enjoying the feeling of gliding around the turns uphill and trying to stay focused my team’s race. By this point, there were so many teams lapping and being lapped. It was much easier to forget about the competition.
Starting out on my final leg
As I started on my last lap, I just wanted so badly to give it everything; but I was so cold and a bit sore. I held on to what I could. Towards the end of my final lap, I was reminded of the fast people that I had feared. One of the women that I had watched warming up flew past me. So why not try and just keep with her? I thought. As we took the bridge, I hung close behind her. I hated how jealous I was of her running form. And then it happened. I lengthened my stride and decided to push with everything I had. As I went by her, she cheered somewhat out of breath, ‘way to go, girl!’ I passed off to Cliff and then celebrated my own little victory to myself.
Bringing it home!
DAVE: And finally, here’s Cliff’s story:
CLIFF: It was bitterly cold and incredibly windy (the RD says it was 21° at the start, with winds of 16-21mph, gusting to 28). In other words, ideal racing conditions. We warmed up together, running the 1.6-mile loop to see about this hill Bobby mentioned. Not so bad, we thought. Much more concerning to me was my panting; I took a really deep breath and asked Dave our pace as casually as possible. 8:40-something. Not good.
We decided to let Dave have the first leg, which goes 2.2mi, and I somehow got the anchor position. Typical pre-leg stuff (jogging around, 4 striders), second thoughts, self-loathing, loathing of Dave for posting about this race, etc. And then Sarah’s orange top rocketed into view, and here we go! Sarah had discussed proper baton exchanges, track-style … so I launched early and made her run it all the way in to reach me. Burned off some adrenaline, then tried to settle into 10k pace (which I figured should be about 6:55).
Making the exchange with Sarah
The hills occur in the second half-mile, and there’s a headwind for that portion, so I ignored the Garmin and just ran. (I did glance at my heart rate a few times, but that was demoralizing and I cut that crap right out.) I got passed by 2-3 people and I passed a ton, mostly on the hills. That felt nice. The official splits say I ran 6:39 pace for that leg. It didn’t feel too bad, and I thought I could do another three like that.
The down time between race legs was tough: not quick like an interval session, but not lengthy like Blue Ridge Relay. Coupled with the cold, wind and our complete lack of preparedness (no chairs, no windbreak, no blankets/sleeping bags), we ended up just standing around shivering for ~35 minutes between race legs. Not optimal.
I warmed up for about a half-mile before my second leg (only two striders now), watching across the lake for an orange blur that would be Sarah. Spotted her, raced to the hand-off area, and made her work again to catch me for the exchange. I tried for the same perceived effort again on this loop, averaging 6:42 pace. Passed once, passed loads again. I don’t know about the others, but I started recognizing people from previous loops, then wondering as I passed them if they recognized me. This leg didn’t feel as easy-peasy as the first (6:42 pace avg.), but the overall experience wasn’t that far off doing track repeats. I can handle that.
Same warmup for the third leg, except now just one strider. I had to race Sarah again to be at the exchange area and ready to rock. We repeated our perfect baton exchange again — I hope the other teams were taking note! — and I searched for the right feeling and my cruise control. This loop felt worse yet, as the accumulated effort began to have some effect. I figured I’d have 35 minutes to recover, so I pressed a bit to hold pace and not let the other three down — it’s kinda cool to have that team pressure after so many years away. One guy passed me, and I continued to smoke people on the hills and (surprisingly) even the flats. Time slipped away despite the increased effort, to the tune of 6:48 average pace on this leg.
Building a head of steam
For the final leg, I deployed my secret weapon: racing flats. I considered shedding the tights and maybe the shirt under my jacket, but then the wind gusted and I chickened out. Same half-mile warmup (no striders now) while hawking for Sarah. I was feeling tired even as I warmed up, which I did not take as a good sign. Still, only one leg to go, so maybe I can still be a hero. I got out in the road for Sarah for the final exchange, started running before she got to me again, and actually said “Bring it!” to her as she kept pushing to hand off. Everything you’d want in a teammate, right? My 10k pace had become much harder than before (Garmins suck), so I just tried to run as hard as I could without my legs turning to jelly. I realized that I had a headwind for the first half-mile, and was thrilled that it meant I’d have the wind at my back for the hills. Nope! The wind shifted back right before I made the turn. By far, this was my slowest first half-mile of all four legs. I noticed earlier that I was starting to sit in the bucket (a la Salazar) late in the race legs, so I focused on running tall, relaxed and with my best form. Motored, such as it was, up the hills, still passing people there (second-fastest split from 0.5mi-1.0mi). We’d tossed around final-leg strategies — i.e., when to drop the hammer — and I’d decided I’d push the part between hills and then the last 0.6mi after the second hill. Legs willing. Crested the second hill and thought about pulling the trigger … and just wasn’t ready to shoot yet. About two-tenths of a mile of recriminations later, I did start pressing, going a little farther over the edge and hoping I didn’t tie up before I reached the finish line. I kept trying to increase the effort — which may or may not have resulted in any actual increase in speed — and managed to sprint the last 75m or so around the bend, up the little hill, and down the straightaway over the mats. A team ran out, linked arms, and jogged four abreast across the finish line in front of me.
Out of the way!
I considered going James Harrison on them, but instead I veered left so Belinda had an unobstructed shot of me in my “spittle on chin, runny nose, and far too much post-race anguish” glory.
Finally, finished!
I can’t thank Dave, Belinda and Sarah enough for their efforts and even more for the wonderful team experience. It was really nice to be part of a group like that, cheering each other, getting cheered, having someone take your hurriedly-shed jacket and whatnot as the incoming runner and baton approached … It was a nice balance of people helping each other out and being nicely competitive without getting overbearing about it.
Team Spontaneity takes a hauntingly familiar pose at the finish.
