Race Report: Northfield Savings Bank Flying Pig Footrace

Last Saturday, while in Vermont visiting my parents, I ran the 33rd Annual Northfield Savings Bank Flying Pig Footrace with my mom. I was excited and proud to be running in the same race with her but she insisted that I run my own race and then come back for her. I begrudgingly accepted my mom’s orders even though my legs were exhausted from hiking Camel’s Hump the day before and I would have gladly slowed my pace to run with her.

 

Saturday ended up being a great day for a race: bright, sunny (although some clouds did roll in just at the start but then just as quickly disappeared again), cool weather. Ask any one of the Vermonters I was racing with and they’d argue that last point since it was supposed to get up in to the 70s that day.

 

We walked down to Northfield’s Village Common, where the race would start and end, about an hour early to watch the kid’s 1-mile race. Watching the kids take off at the starting line, eager, smiling and determined faces, was fun. The kids did not disappoint and put in a great race effort with the first one (a girl, no less) coming across the line in just over 6 and half minutes (a mile time, I’d never be able to hit now!).


After watching the kids finish their race, we walked over to the bank and got our bibs and t-shirts. The t-shirts are really great with an awesome picture of a flying pig on the back. It is definitely one of the most fun cotton race t-shirts I’ve ever received.

 

We were called to the start line and took off, immediately up hill for approximately one-third to half a mile. On the plus side, starting up in a race is a great way to guarantee that you don’t go out too fast and I love running up hills. On the negative side, it can be a little discouraging to start out a 5K already out of breath and tired. I didn’t push too hard up the hill, letting people stream past me. I told myself to just be patient because I’d soon be passing them.

 

As we hit the top of the hill and the course flattened out, I picked up the pace and told myself, “push, it’s only three miles; it’ll be over before you know it.” My 3 mile PR is 24:xx minutes and I think I could have taken a shot at the record had I not hiked the day before and if the race hadn’t started on an incline. However, those are the circumstances of this race so I told myself that plan A was get in under 26 minutes and plan B was to at least run it under 30 minutes. I was feeling surprisingly well as I started to push the pace at the top of hill and thought, maybe I could get close to the PR.

 

 

The course took us up to the edge of the Norwich University campus before turning back toward the Village Common, crossing within 50 yards of the finish line, circling across and along the Dog River before turning back toward the Village Common and the finish line.

 

I hit mile one in 8:06 and definitely felt good. I thought I could aim for sub-8 one the next mile so I picked it up just a hair. As I was heading down hill, toward Village Common the first time, I let gravity take over and sped down it, passing a woman in a bright blue t-shirt. Nothing remarkable about that as I was passing loads of people but I would remember her later. Not long after crossing the Dog River, along Water Street, which had little shade and the sun had come back out, I started to slow. My legs were tired. Uh oh.

 

Up to that point, I had been focusing on catching the person in front of me, passing them and then picking out my next victim. Now, it was just a matter of survival. I told myself, “just hang on, I was almost to Mile two and the turn around, just don’t let anyone pass.” But the turn around was a long time coming and I knew I was in some trouble. I hit the second mile in 8:12.

 

A PR was out of the question but I could still eke in under 26 minutes if I just kept up the pace.

 

Luckily after the turn around, I had something to distract me from the cement-like legs – I knew I would pass-by mom. I looked and looked. Nope, that’s not her. Oh, that could be…nope not her. Oh wait, there she is. And there she was, coming down the street, head down a little, a little red in the face but still moving forward. She perked up when she saw me and me high-fived. “Go Momma!!” I shouted. It was one of my favorite race moments ever (beaten, of course by the banana hand-off from my first marathon).

 

Well, now I had to finish this race, no more distractions just one foot in front of the other and repeat as quickly as possible. Just as I spotted to turn up ahead, I heard someone getting closer and closer, both their footfalls and their breathing. It didn’t sound good and I really wanted to hold them off but I just couldn’t find any pep in my legs and I knew I wanted to save a little bit for the kick to the finish line. That’s when blue-shirt passed me.

 

“Argh” I wanted to scream. I had thundered past her on the downhill and here she was, slow and steady coming back. For a second, I thought about just running all out, screw the kick at the end, but my legs weren’t interested in responding. I had found a groove and they didn’t want to go any faster. A little disappointed, I let her go without a fight and just focused on getting to the finish.

I made the final turn, a tiny up and over the bridge and gave it my all toward the finish line. I couldn’t find any speed to pass anyone but I finished strong and it felt good. To my surprise, the clock read 25:34 as I crossed the finish line. I thought I had slowed more than that on the last 1.1 miles (total 9:15) but I had managed to hold on for a sub-26 finish.

 

I quickly, grabbed some water, waved at my dad and Mike and then started back for Mom. I really wanted to run part of the race with her. I met up with her with about a quarter mile to go and ran it in with her. She said she was tired and that this was tougher than she thought it would be. Regardless, I was so proud of her as we ran in to the finish line. “This is my MOM!” I wanted to shout. Of course, I didn’t shout that but I couldn’t contain my smile and hoped that it was good enough to show everyone how happy I was to run that race with her.

I ended up finishing 67th overall and 8th in my age group with an official time of 25:33 an average pace of 8:14.

 

 

Great race. Great company. Great day. Thanks Mom! xoxo

 

Pros:

• Great (cotton) t-shirt
• Cool weather (for a Virginian)
• Fun festivities before and after
• Great small town race

 

Hike: Camel’s Hump Summit via the Monroe Trail, Vermont

“Well, this mountain kicked my ass.” Those are the words my little brother, Dan muttered as we finally neared the summit of Camel’s Hump Mountain. After nearly two hours of steep incline, a few rock scrambles and more tree roots than I can count we were finally getting close to the end of the 3.75 mile trail to the top of the mountain. It was, indeed, a tough climb to the top and it was a relief to know that the end was in sight…well, sort of.

At about 12:30 in the afternoon, my little brother, SCAMP (the dog), Mike and I started our hike up to the top of Camel’s Hump, the third largest mountain in Vermont, part of the Green Mountains and perhaps that state’s most distinctive peak. We were all looking forward to a nice hike to the top of the mountain. Although we should have known it would be tough, we were walking up a mountain after all, we really didn’t know what we were getting ourselves in to as we started out on a single track dirt trail.

We quickly fell in to three separate hiking patterns: Mike hiking ahead with SCAMP, Dan not far behind and me bringing up the rear. The trail went up, up, up relentlessly and we took a break for water and to catch our breath when the trail intersected with the Dean Trail.

At this point, we fell in to a new routine: Mike still hiking ahead with the dog, Dan ambling along the trail and me some where in the middle attempting to keep up with Mike and the dog without losing track of Dan. One of the things I love about hiking is that it satisfies my contradictory desire to be both alone and with our people. As we hiked we did very little talking, we weren’t even in sight of one another for a majority of the time, and yet, I loved that we shared this experience.

Most people would think that hiking up a mountain, being constantly out of breath and having to scramble up and over rocks sounds like a form of punishment or torture but I love it. Getting to the top of a long trail up a mountain is a uniquely satisfying feeling. It is filled with triumphs (yay, I made is to the top of this climb) and moments of renewed determination (but I have miles more to go). There are rewards – a sudden clearing of the trees at a beautiful vista of the mountains surrounding you – and moments of quiet reflection as you walk through a forest that has been around longer than you can imagine.

This hike did not disappoint in any of these regards. There were very few switchbacks up this mountain, just a relentless incline through the forest and over the rocks and roots. Most of the time we were under tree cover, which kept us relatively cool, but there were a few spots where we out in the sun. It was actually a pleasant day for hiking (I know most Vermonters would probably say it was hot since it was up in to the 80s but considered there was little humidity and that all I’ve had for the past few weeks is to sticky, gross upper-90s in DC, I thought the temperature was refreshing).

Nearing the top of the mountain and just over three miles, we started to keep our eyes out for the short side trail that would take us to the wing of a B-24J bomber. In 1944, during World War II, the bomber was out on a training run and crashed in to the mountain. The plane (and the several crew members who died) was eventually recovered with the exception of the wing which sits just off the Monroe Trail.

The wing has weathered the 60-plus years on the mountain well but it seems so out of place in this setting. It is definitely one of the most unusual things I’ve encountered out on a hike.

Not long after the seeing the wing, we finally reached the alpine zone and the summit. It was a relief to finally reach the top; we were tired of going up. I was surprised by two things at the top of the mountain: 1) at some point during the hike, the clouds had rolled in and it was overcast and 2) it was super windy. As a result, it felted like we had hiked out of one day and in to another.

Following a hike description we found online, we decided to hike the Long Trail down the mountain, hook up with the Dean Tail after about a mile and then get back on the Monroe Trail a bit under 2 miles from the trail head. As it turned out, this ended up being a bit of a misstep on our part. Since everyone was exhausted from the trip up we probably should have just stayed on the Monroe Trail, retrace our steps back to the start. However, we decided to brave the unknown.

This section of the Long Trail ended up being quite difficult. There was a great deal more rock scrambling and one point we even had to carry the dog over a section of rock. It was a tough hike down because of the steepness and the fact that we weren’t sure we were on the right trail at one point, plus it took us longer to climb down that we anticipated so there were some tense moments before we finally popped out on the Dean Trail and then saw the sign for the Monroe trail and the parking area.

Despite the exhausting climb down (oh man, my quads were toast from the climb up so they were nearly shot for all the downhill stuff), I think the Long Trail portion would have been an awesome climb up. It would have been steeper and tougher, with more hands and knees rock scrambling but it would have been fun to tackle those sections with fresher legs.

We finally made it back to the trail head, all four of us completely spent. It was a fun hike and I highly recommend it for anyone who’s in good hiking shape. I’d love to do it again.