Charlie Horse Half Marathon Race Report

When I see the words, "Charlie (or Charley) Horse," my first thought is of leg cramps.  I've actually never had a charley horse, and don't associate quad cramps with running, so I wasn't sure how the name fit with the race - not that it really mattered.  My goals were to get some more trail experience under my belt, and to increase my trail race distance, and the date and location of this race were perfect.  Going into the race, I felt prepared for the distance but underprepared for the hills - something that will prove a challenge to overcome in my current running environs, but that I accept it for what it is for now.  We also had to deal with an early season bout of the hot and humids, and on top of that I have been wrestling with a spring cold that was on the out but still left me with some congestion and the occasional coughing fit.  Given the latter two, I went into the race with the goal of finishing, come what may and time be damned; if I had to walk up the steepest hills, I would. 

Race morning, it took me about a minute to pack my race bag (Shoes? Check.  Towel? Check.  Apres-race change of clothes? Check.).  The drive out was familiar and easy, and I arrived earlier than expected.  The race was a point to point, so they bussed us to the start.  Once loaded we got our pre-race briefing.  The guy who did the briefing was pretty funny; for starters, he apologized for the weather, saying they had been shooting for more heat and humidity and that he hoped we weren't disappointed.  He went on to describe the course, noted the location of the aid stations (miles 3, 6, 9, and 11), and that the course included a bit of water and "a few hills."  Miles 9 - 11 would be on pavement, a mile down a steep hill and then a mile up a steep hill.  After that, we entered Charlie's property, and all bets were off.  We were warned we might encounter horses on the trail (Charlie? Horse?  Get it???  ouch), and told to give way to them. 

Had a nice chat with my seatmate on the way to the start; he was pretty new to running but had done a Tough Mudder (just what it sounds like) race in the fall and had enjoyed it.  He had a Garmin Forerunner, which he loved; it was nice to see one up close.  I'm not all that into gadgets and gear, but I've been thinking about getting a Forerunner lately, mainly because my tried and true method of mapping runs before I do them (and then correcting them afterwards when I reroute on the fly) is getting OLD.  More and more, I just want to go out and run wherever my feet take me on a given day and stay out for time, but I'm compulsive about tracking distance, and I question my ability to recall my routes, particularly if I zone out along the way.  So the Garmin, while clunky, seems an interesting idea...

But I digress.  The trip to the start took for-freaking-ever, despite the fact that the bus drivers were going like 80 mph on the hilly, twisty back country roads.  At the start, we were told there was but one working bathroom for last minute pit stops.  More people that I expected got in line, while the rest of us sought out little girls' and boys' trees and shrubs.  As we lined up, we were told that there were over 300 starters, and they expected something like 262 finishers (and they were close! there were 267 finishers); I guess that was based on data from prior races.  I was surprised that they had such a high number of DNFs (did not finish), but then again, I've never really studied starter/finisher race stats, so what do I know? 

After the singing of the national anthem (by us, of course), we were off!  Naturally, the very first thing we did was cross a creek.  Who wants to run a half marathon in dry shoes, after all?  Thanks to my superior creek crossing skills and murky water piercing sonar, I managed to half step on a slippery rock and go down on my butt, so I had the added benefit of running the race in wet shorts, as well as shoes.  As usual, we started into the hills almost immediately.  The first one wasn't too bad, and then we came to a near stop on the down slope, thanks to a tree and several limbs lying across the path.  There was no way around them, and only enough room for one person to go over and/or under at a time (I did some of both), so we came out of that fairly spaced out.  From that point on, I didn't pass many people and very few people passed me.  I found that pretty unusual, but I guess we'd sorted ourselves out pretty well, in terms of pace, in that first mile or so. 

On the whole, the first six miles were HARD.  The hills were steep and I made good on my forethought to walk up the steep parts, which frankly, was most of the uphills.  Even some of the downhills were slow, thanks to lots of loose rock.  I've learned that my greatest fear on the downhills is not of falling, but of having someone behind me fall and take me down with him or her.  The trails were often single track, so there was effectively no passing, and hearing someone on your tail, pounding hard and breathing heavy, was - disconcerting.  I suppose because of the stop at the tree and all the uphill walking, my overall pace was slower than I'd anticipated; after what seemed an unreasonably long time, I found myself at the second (six mile) aid station. I was at that point hoping they'd measured the distance wrong, and we were actually closer to or even more than halfway along the course (one can hope, right?)  But no; the Garmin-wearing folk assured us all that we really were just six miles in.  Fortunately this aid station had not only water and gatorade, but also M&Ms!  (OK, and other junk food as well, but I only had eyes for the peanut M&Ms.) 

Thus refueled, I headed out on the back side of the course.  I wish I had more to say about miles 6 - 9, but I seem to have run those miles in some sort of a time warp.  There were more hills (and bugs!), but the downhills were less rocky.  My pace definitely picked up, and before I knew it, I was at the road section of the course.  At that point I was running near a guy who had done a lot of ultra and trail running, and who had done this course many times before.  Apparently, what was now a road section was just a few years ago a trail section; however a new (and fairly small) development had gone in, and the road more or less followed the old trail.  Folks who lived along the road were pretty cool;  quite a few came out to cheer us on.  One family set up its own aid station, and more than one had sprinklers out for us to run through (yay, people!).  As promised, both the downhill and uphill sections were steep; the gal I was running next to and I were joking about needing overspeed brakes or parachutes.

And then, we hit Charlie's section of the course.  We had been warned, prior to the start, that there would be a mud pit later on the course, that there was no way around it, and that we'd better make sure our shoes were laced tightly because otherwise, we might lose them.  What they did not tell us, perhaps because they didn't know, was that there would be many, many mudpits on that last section of the course.  Perhaps Charlie, who I'm guessing is a real person, figured what with the mud run craze, he might as well follow suit.  Whatever the case, we had a series of drops into water up to waist deep (on me, anyway), with entries so slick you had to slide in and exits so steep you needed a rope (thankfully provided) to get out.  Then the trail actually ran IN the creek for a while, which I must say, felt really good - plus it washed off much of the mud you'd gathered by that point.  No worries, though, as there was more mud to come, this time much thicker, boggier mud that there was no doin' nothin' but wading through and hoping you didn't misstep and fall.

After that, there was perhaps a mile of trail left to run, frankenstein-like in mud-caked shoes.  Near the finish, they had a fire hose spraying out over the trial, but it didn't really put a dent in the filth.  From there the trail popped out of the woods, then over a wooden bridge, then on to the finish.  Woo! 

Thankfully there was a hose available after the finish to wash off off the mud.  I took off my shoes and socks (there was mud IN my shoes) and deconned them as best I could; some people were talking about tossing their shoes, which seemed a little extreme to me, but I could see why one would do that.  My socks are goners, for sure.  I hosed off my legs - I was muddy to around mid-thigh (sex-ay!) - and padded barefoot back to the car to change.  Perhaps the only small bummer of the day was that there was no real finisher trinket.  Instead, we got a pair of socks (to replace the ones we'd killed on course?) and could BUY a finisher mug if we wanted.  Granted, the were cheap, but I don't carry money with me when I run races, and by the time I'd cleaned up and walked back up(hill) to the car, I wasn't in the mood to walk back down for a mug.  So, aside from the race shirt and a pair of socks I managed to get dirty before I even walked out of the finish area, no souvenirs for this race. 

I found out later when checking the scores that I finished 5th in my age group (they gave awards to 4th place, naturally), which just suggests to me that not many women in my age group ran on that particular day.  LOL.   It was a fun experience overall, and I'd be happy to do that race again.  I'm grateful for every bit of training I did going into that race, from the roadwork to the gym work, and I have a much better feel overall for what kind of training I need to do if I plan to keep moving onward and upward, distance and elevation-wise, in my trail racing. 

Race shirt and finisher - socks?

Post races shoes - which didn't start out white - and socks, which did.  The shoes took three days to dry completely.