The 2011 Seghahunda Trail Marathon - The "War and Peace" version.

Cliffs Notes version:  26.3 miles, 8:46:58.

The non-Cliffs Notes version (go pee and get something to drink before you begin):

I've been running trails for about 2 years, and while I'm not as fast on them, I loved the beauty of being outdoors and I absolutely LOVE running single-track.   I'm even starting to love hills on a regular basis.  I picked Sehgahunda as my first marathon because I embraced the challenge, and really didn't have crazy expectations...I just wanted to finish, and truly I have no desire to run a road marathon right now.  I also am part of a running team that put together the race last year (as part of the Fleet Feet-Salomon Endurance Team), so going into this race I knew it was hard.  I respected the race and it's technicality from the start.

Boots.  Photo courtesy Barb Boutillier

In February (after I completed a 6-hour snowshoe race), I joined a Sehgahunda-specific training group put on by Fleet Feet Rochester, specifically created by Dave "Boots" Boutillier, co-owner of the store and of YellowJacket Racing (and among other really cool accomplishments - he's the 1996 Duathlon World Championship gold medalist, and runner in the 2007 Cours de Templiers in France). I have not trained with Boots before, although the co-facilitator (never call them "coaches"), Mark Monachino, is a fellow Fleet Feet-Salomon Endurance Team member with whom I've trained and raced before; Boots doesn't follow a specific method like Daniels or Higdon, which is what drew me to the program in the first place (I usually become quickly bored with these canned programs).  I felt that, because trail running is more perceived-effort driven vs. mileage, Boots' program (known as "Lab Rats") would be better for this kind of adventure.  I also liked that his workouts were based on time, not distance - perfect for a full-time nursing student like me. He also only gave us a week or two of workouts at a time to keep us focused on the task at hand.  I've known Boots since I started running back in 2008, and know to trust his method and madness.  I didn't ask a lot of "why's" with his program (something he openly appreciates, I think), and looking back over the past few months, I wouldn't change it.  He doesn't re-invent the wheel when it comes to training, but he did stress the need to know your effort and to not go anaerobic in your training, because if you do at Sehgahunda, you're screwed.  In all, it was a great training program, and I got as much as I was capable of getting out of it (I was obviously busy finishing school, and became ill during some critical training weeks).  Despite my finishing time, I felt this program prepared me well for what anyone could be prepared for...but race day's conditions just weren't available as training tools...cest la vie.

Fast-foward to race week...

I had my first series of "mental breakdowns" on Thursday.  I probably cried three or four times in spurts before noon, with some nervous laughter.  I heard plenty of sympathy ("you've got this!") and plenty of hard love ("suck it up, Princess!" from Thom Patterson).

This is not like me.  I wasn't this nervous before I deployed to Iraq.  To add icing onto the fear cake, I became disappointed in myself for being such a baby.  I mean, for Christ's sake, I completed ruck marches and aced my Army Physical Fitness Test in Basic Training with a stress fracture in my femoral head.

When did I become such a wuss?

My only saving grace on Thursday was going to my Urban Fitness session at 6PM.  I dialed back the effort significantly, but it was enough to get rid of some nervous energy.  I talked to Gustavo (the trainer of the program, who was also running the race), who reminded me to not waste my energy on the worry.  I felt better, and came home with the feeling of just wanting to get started!  I spent the rest of the evening finishing up laundry (I was not about to make trips from the second floor to the basement - and back - this weekend), getting my bags ready, and also getting Dave ready (since he was volunteering, and wasn't going to get back from work until quite late on Friday night).

Photo courtesy Barb Boutillier

Friday I got an easy 30 minute run in just to get my mind in the right mindset.  I ate my pre-race ritual meal (gnocci with pesto), got Dave's stuff all squared away (and mine), and went to bed. Didn't sleep for crap that night, which really didn't bother me since I had a good night's sleet the night before.  I woke up, had my coffee and a light breakfast, and headed out the door at about 5:30AM for the hour-drive to Letchworth, which was quite foggy.

The start was at Mt Morris Dam and Visitor Center - it was busy but well organized.  The start was a little late due to some transportation issues from the previous night's thunderstorm, which flooded the main road where the checkpoints and aid stations were.  No biggie...a 10 minute delay mattered not to me.  We lined up, got our ankle-chips, and took off as Boots gave his marching orders:  "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  The male solo start was 15 minutes later, and the relays 30 minutes after the guys.

LEG 1 - 6.1 miles (to Checkpoint 1)

Checkpoint #1.  Photo courtesy Tom Taylor, Jr.

This leg was the easiest  - I already knew that.  I ran with/behind Courtney Abeln (a fellow Sehgahunda Lab Rat), enjoyed the view of some of the waterfalls, and settled into a "too easy, but better keep it this way" pace of around 15-ish min/mile.  We knew the access trail to the first checkpoint was long and steep, so we knew it would be best to conserve our energy.  This leg was pretty uneventful but what we didn't anticipate was how muddy the access trail was leading to the CP.  It was hell.  I don't mind water and I don't mind mud, but this stuff was heavy, nasty, and knee deep.  And the stench...well, I've been to the Tigris River in Mosul, Iraq, and hands down, the Tigris smelled better.  There were a lot of folks at the checkpoint, cheering runners, which was a nice boost.  I grabbed a piece of watermelon and headed back down the hill.  I lost about 40 seconds going up the hill, but gained most of it back on the way down.  However, that uphill took a lot out of me even walking it, and I never really gained it back once I got back on the main trail.

LEG 2:  9.3 miles (Checkpoints 2 and 3).

Photo courtesy Tom Taylor, Jr.

This is the toughest leg...a 9.3 mile section with two checkpoints.  I honestly don't remember a thing about CP 2, but CP 3 is known to some (or many) as "Checkpoint Carnage".  It's just past the halfway point and it's where folks either quit, or are pulled for medical reasons.

This whole leg sucked for me; the hill to CP 1 took a lot out of me, my back was sore and my good pace slowly but surely was eaten away.  The gullies were refreshing...an ice bath for your toes, but the immediate slope coming out of the creeks were just a mudslide.  My time was slipping and I realized I wasn't going make the cutoff.  I was so miserable and so tired and in pain that I contemplated just slipping in a gully so I could hit my head and pass out and have the medics come get me...seriously, I thought this was a good option considering my circumstance.  At some points I was passed by my friend Bob Singer.  I was doubting myself and my choice of marathon for my first attempt at the distance when he said to me "you picked one of the toughest marathons around, with maybe the toughest conditions possible, as you first marathon.  Keep going, you can do this."

Trying not to barf a perfectly good PB&J.  Photo courtesy Chuck Traub

I didn't reach CP 3 until around 4:40, and the cutoff time for the CP was 4:00.  I saw my friends, IronCouple Sandy and Jim McLaughlin (Jim is a fellow Endurance Team member) at the base of the access trail, cheering me on...and I was confused:  Why are they cheering when I'm about to get pulled from the race?  As I went up CP 3's access trail, I saw Courtney (yep, I lost her!) coming down.  I was puzzled, and asked "how are we not getting pulled?"  She said "don't worry, you're making it".   I made it to the checkpoint, sat down, and immediately was taken care of.  Boots located my drop bag and started pulling out stuff I might need (all I wanted was my HEED and my BodyGlide).  Fellow teammate and ultragirl extraordinaire Kim Rapp retrieved some pretzels and potato chips, and a PB&J which sounded really good, but I took one bite, tried to swallow and immediately gagged.  At this point, my whole nutrition game plan was unravelling.  Kim took my hydration pack to refill with water and HEED; when she brought it back, she told me it was kind of full when I gave it to her and I needed to drink more.  She was probably right, but my stomach was bloated and I was starting to feel nauseated around all the food.  My saving grace was going to be the HEED and my EnduroLYTE tabs.  I looked at Kim and asked, "Why am I not getting pulled?"  I think she said something about how they knew how bad the conditions were, and as long as the medical director (fellow Endurance Teammate, Dr. Laura Church) didn't find a medical reason to pull folks, they were allowed to continue.  It made sense...I didn't perceive it to be really hot (I guess I have a different heat threshold, since I was in Kuwait for two weeks when it was 140+) but the trail was just ridic.  I felt a little better knowing that my pain and suffering was not for nothing, so I packed back up and headed down the access trail to lots of cheers.

Leg 3:  6.5 miles (Checkpoints 4, 5, 6)

Checkpoint 4.  Photo courtesy Tom Taylor, Jr.

I knew the worst of the race was over in terms of distance between checkpoints, but this still meant more checkpoints to climb; thankfully the rest weren't very long.  I was pretty much run-walking at this point, mainly running whatever flats and downhills I could find (not many); the uphills were just too slick and my back hurt too much to run them efficiently.  I tried to eat a Cliff ShotBlok (which had fueled me well during my long runs, including a 20 miler), but it took me forever to open, and I took one block, chewed and gagged it up like the PB&J at CP3.   I felt kind of screwed, but thankfully I wasn't cramping (which historically had a big problem for me in humid conditions).  A couple runners (a male and female) behind were closing in within earshot, gas-bagging about dropping out of the race at either the next CP or the one after.  I was getting really, really pissed listening to it.  I'm busting my ass, albeit slowly, to finish every inch of this race, and these morons are quitters.  If they had that much hot air to have a conversation, they can keep going.  I finally just told them to pass me, and I'd stand still long enough to get them out of earshot.  I was happy to get to CP4 since it was relatively easy to navigate, and I knew that my Godson's father, Pete Fosler, was working the CP.  I gave Pete a muddy hug (unsure if it was appreciated), grabbed a couple cups of water (thankfully cool water), and headed back down...relieved that the two gasbaggers followed through on their pact of dropping out of the race.

Photo courtesy Tom Taylor, Jr.

CP5 greeted me with a sign from Amy Jerum, a Sehgahunda Lab Rat that seriously hurt her back early in the training program; she was working the CP earlier but I missed her, and despite her being hurt, she still was a cheerleader for our successes.  Kee-Min Ngiam, husband of teammate (and race volunteer coordinator) Holly Kuzmiak-Ngiam, was nice enough to call my husband (who was working later checkpoints) to let him know that I was alive, still in the race, and that I was NOT making dinner that night.  Away I went, hobbling/walking/doing some sort of resemblance of a run, and actually passed a runner at around Mile 20.  A little victory worth celebrating, as it felt like it was the only thing that went in my favor since Mile 5.

CP6 is my least favorite...it's a long climb (although not as long as CP1), very rocky, and was muddy as all get out.  About halfway up, I saw some of my friends who gave me some encouragement on their descent.  I also saw Boots, in his typical antagonistic fashion, about 3/4 of the way up telling us "wow, it's a little muddy" (as we sank mid-shin in the stuff).  At that point, I wanted to punch him in the face.  Keemin was there again, assuring me that Dave knew dinner was his responsibility.  Boots told me that Dave was working the next CP, and off I went.

Leg 4:  4.4 miles (Checkpoints 7 and 8)

Everything hurts...

With this leg, I only had a little bit to go until I reached dirt road and smooth (relatively) trail, albeit uphill.  When I came out of the woodline I could almost instantly see my husband Dave manning CP7, blaring rock out of his car.  He took pictures as I approached, and as I picked through some watermelon and orange slices.  He gave me a hug, some words of encouragement, and sent me off, saying "only about 5k to go!".  Off I went, up the hill, hoping a little bit that the passing State Park Police car would run me over.  It didn't.

off I go!

The last CP was hosted by Amy and Anthony (her son) Monachino.  Amy is one of the best volunteers to work YellowJacket's events, and she's the wife of fellow teammate (and Lab Rat facilitator) Mark Monachino.  I can't describe Amy as anything other than the nicest, most genuine cheerleader you could ask for in a volunteer.  I got to their station, grabbed another piece of watermelon (yes, fruit was the only solid food that didn't make me gag this whole race), and stared blankly down the greenway that led to the finish (about 2 miles).  I must have looked a mess, because Amy looked at me and said "Look at what you've done the past few weeks...and what you're doing now!"  I trotted off so she wouldn't see me cry, because only Amy could say something like that with such sincerity to make me cry.  I found a nice comfortable pace on the greenway and took in the last few miles of my very first marathon.


In the distance, I saw a runner with a neon green shirt - the same one the Sehgahunda Lab Rats wore.  I thought it might be a fellow Lab Rat looking to see what victims remained, but soon I realized it was Mark Monachino.  I swear, seeing him was like seeing an oasis in the desert.  I don't know if he was running on the trail looking for me, but he called "I know that running style...I knew it was you!" (I guess he knows what a wounded humpback whale looks like if one could run), and started running with me.  He let me babble about the new dog we're getting, about how tired I was, about wanting to punch Boots in the face at CP 6...whatever nonsense I wanted...he even laughed at all the right moments at my babble.  His encouragement parallels that of his wife, and I felt at ease with knowing that in this race, I had run slower than I ever have before but was finishing it to boot.


We came out of the woodline, forged left to take one last uphill on the hard road at a quick hike, and I saw the turn to the finish line.  He veered off, said "see you soon!", and I trotted around the parking lot to the finish.  I was surprised to see so many runners so late in the day; perhaps they understood our feat and stayed to offer support.  I saw friend Barb Boutillier (Boots' sister) and her relay teammate Gustavo Zajia...a dynamic duo that inspired me when I was ever doubting myself.  I saw my husband just past the finish banner and ran as quick as my legs could carry.  I crossed the finish at 8:46:58, got my medal, collapsed into my husband's shoulder and cried.  He said "I'm so proud of you."

All I could muster was "I wanted to quit.  So many times".

I had a veggie burger which was likely just so-so, but tasted like prime rib (and yes, I was able to keep it down).  I grabbed some fruit, a Coke, and headed back to the finish to cheer on the last runners.  The last  runner was hearing impaired, and as she came through, we all "clapped" in sign language by waving our hands in the air.  I'm guessing she dug it because she was grinning from ear to ear.

This race was epic, hell, and awesomeness all rolled into one.  Boots told me a couple days before the race that my two Iraq deployments were likely harder than Sehgahunda.  Even now, I disagree, although I can't really pinpoint why.  Also, I don't know if I've fallen in love with the distance, but I am excited, even as I sit here sore the day after, of the training challenges I can tackle this summer:  fueling in hot weather so as not to puke, muscle endurance, and core/hip strength (the latter being a key issue, in retrospect, with just not being to move my leg in any type of a run even when I felt fine cardio-wise).  I also plan to head to the local running trail (Mendon Ponds) during the next torrential downpour to get some mud running experience under my belt (the winner of this race set a course record of 3:40...faster than the winning time last year in dry conditions).

While I didn't make the "official cutoff" (even though the cutoff was relaxed this year), I felt that the Lab Rat program trained me as well as it could for a first time marathoner with not the optimum base mileage in the books.  If I ever had the opportunity to do a Lab Rat training program again, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Would I run this race again...hell yeah!  Would I recommend it as a first marathon...only to someone who has a year on trails (not "grassy bikepaths") and can respect not just the distance, but this particular trail.  Letchworth ate me for lunch and spit me out...like a good trail should.  I don't know when I'll have the opportunity to run this again (as next year I will likely dedicate my time as a volunteer to allow other Endurance Team members to run it if they chose).  But despite the tears and pain, it's really hard to have a bad race when running such a natural treasure like "The Grand Canyon of the East".  In one way or another, I'll be back for more.