Beast Run 2/06/07 Portland, Maine
Bound to end in tearsSix days after our first ultra and we were subjected to the Beast Run. It gets its name from the first run which was held on 6/06/06 although the obligatory beer drinking adds considerably to the iniquitous nature of this event. The strap line for Pineland Farms was "Maine's most challenging race." I felt considerably more challenged by the Beast Run but maybe because I didn't give it enough respect....
We had recovered reasonably quickly from the 50k - largely due to the soft ground not destroying our legs. In fact the very next day Emma, Ian and I went for a short recovery run near a beach (while Mary read a book.) A quick dip in the sea then off to buy ice creams.
We were really enjoying the US and loads of people we met were incredibly generous. Jim lent us his canoe to go paddling up a river where Ian and I jumped off a train bridge. Some young guys doing the same told us it was 23.5 ft off the water - I didn't hear how they'd measured it because my knees were knocking together so much.
Butch and Sundance moment
Another kind soul Jeannie suggested we use her holiday cottage on Peaks Island - a fifteen minute trip on the ferry out of Portland Harbour. It was a great escape to a place that had a very holiday feel about it - slightly bohemian and arty and loads of interesting wooden buildings from tiny cottages to palatial mansions. But small enough to run round in an hour. We assumed Jeannie was a close friend of Ian and Emma's until we realised they had only met at the 50k.
Mackworth
Peaks Island
Emma ran us to Mackworth - an island joined by a causeway where there is a walk round the shore and many points of interest including this gravestone for Jerry Roan, A Noble Horse and a Kind Friend, Died Mar 1, 1904 35 yrs. Also ran about trying to catch the local wildlife on camera. A charming place to take a summer walk. Giant tadpoles and frogs lurking in the bullrushes.
Trail Monster Shauna gave us 2 tickets to get into the Art Museum which was full of delights. As we were there for the first Friday of June we took part in the First Friday event: a monthly open doors where you can wander round lots of galleries and studios meeting the artists who show their work and give away wine. How civilised!
In fact lots of Portland seemed very civilised - from drinking fountains round Back Cove - a pretty tree lined 5k cinder path on the coast - to the lack of boozed up n'er-do-wells and gangs of 14 y/o thugs that grace the corners of too many modern cities. At the end of a couple of different trails we ran there was a stand pipe where you could wash your mountain bike / shoes / face. L.L. Bean's outlet is open 24hrs. Not somewhere you'd really want to work but if you just have to buy a kayak, a mountain bike or a fishing rod at 4 in the morning then that's your shop. On the downside it was difficult to get hold of muesli or orange squash and vegetarianism hasn't really taken off. Not as popular as say shooting something and cooking it. Or just shooting something.
It was very magnanimous of Jim to hold the Beast Run at his place. Who wants a dozen drunk runners with dirty feet in their house? Jim lives on the edge of the woods and having been there for a pre-race pasta feast the week before I had noticed the amazing noise of the frogs at twilight. There were the bullfrogs making regular frog noises but there were also the “peepers” who did a manic high pitched peeping from all around and possibly from the trees. I took my camera along (it has an audio feature) to record the noise.
Earlier that same day.
Preparation at Jim's place.We had been doing loads of things that week and so I started the race a bit tired and also a bit hungry. We had already done nearly 80mins of trails earlier in the day. All in all, poor preparation. But hey, no excuses - we had been warned over a week ago of what this entailed. After we slapped on loads of unpleasant bug repellant we carried cool boxes of beers into what seemed like the middle of Apocalypse Now. It was after 5 pm and a warm afternoon. A couple of competitors had (rashly I thought) started drinking already but I saved myself for the race. First lap everyone had to run together to make sure we all knew the route: just short of a mile on undulating trails running through dense woods with small streams here and there with a few planks over the muddiest sections. We jogged round in about 9 minutes marking the junctions with fallen branches, scoring directional arrows in the dirt and trying to remember the route. If you stopped for any length of time the mosquitoes descended and tried to find a patch of skin you'd missed with the bug spray. It was warm work running but not so warm you'd want a can of beer every mile. However the rules said you should drink one every lap or you would be disqualified. Same if you threw up.
As you will have realised this wasn't an official race with numbers and safety pins, though a few did actually turn up to spectate and take photos. Also there was quite a lot of rule breaking - half finished cans going in the bin bags or folk just leaving half a can for the next lap interval. I'm not sure why this self preservation didn't occur to me but after about three laps very little did occur to me. First beer 40 secs, and I was first off. Foolishly I thought I would push the pace and see what everyone was made of. Well someone has to?
I ran in a non-club top not wishing to sully the good name of PRC.Andrew came with me as we belched round the corner and up the slight rise that was to become so familiar. There were planks heading up the route (although the ground there was dry) and the first few laps they were easy to run along. Along the top then down the back straight and Andrew called me back as I headed off on a wrong route. Just as well he was right behind me. Between 6 and 7 minutes for lap 2. And a lovely refreshing beer. Yum yum. I think about a minute for this one - I lost my splits for this event, sadly. Then off again. A lot more burping through the trees. In fact I developed a tactic of jogging on the spot while drinking to lose as much gas before setting off but it was still desperately unpleasant and more than a tad impolite. During the initial laps we passed a couple of folk out dog walking; they must have thought some rednecks had moved nearby. I tried to wave a genteel hello, between belches. Back to base and another beer. I had given up racing Andrew - he had twice called me back from going the wrong way - there was no mileage in trying to out-run my navigator.
Emma, Mary, Andrew, PB, Jim, Derek and Eric fast becoming best buddies.
Bringing out the beast in JimAndrew hadn't run the 50k this year but last year (in harder conditions) had done about the same time I did this year. We chatted as we ran, wondering how soon we would lap the back end of the field. He reckoned the ladies would be taking longer at the beer stop. I pictured beer being drunk elegantly from china cups with pinkies raised. We didn't have to wait long to find out; fourth lap (or was that five including the first slow one?) And we came into the clearing to find a big group rather than just Jamie the photographer. Longer beer stop this time - lots of animated chat as more arrive and some head off back into the jungle. Keeping an eye on Andrew, okay lets go and we float round the corner seeing the planks and maybe running over them maybe not. Up to the junction then right and isn't it so green? Every time we come to the small bridge over the stream I try to refine the line between the trees then the steep right hand down the slope to the bridge, up and turn back onto the rising track to the start finish. Another beer. The beers are 330 mls lite beers so relatively low in alcohol. Not low enough. We head off again and catch Ian. Ian and Andrew talk for what seems like hours on the benefits of a VW deisel. I tell them off in an animated fashion because the conversation is so dull, ie I can't contribute.
Now pay attention....
Somewhere along the way we also do a round with Jim. Jim is also well “animated” and encouraging much partaking of beers. I have never combined exercise and drink and it seems really great. If a bit naughty. It is getting dark - actually I didn't notice until I saw the photos and again we lap the main group with Emma and Mary. Everyone is very relaxed and probably shouting quite a lot. I am accusing Andrew and possibly Ian of not drinking quickly enough and Andrew for the first time suggests I carry on without him.
Ian and I do a quick lap nearer 6 than 7 then probably as a result patches begin to disappear. I don't remember why we stopped - the group meets at the beer were getting longer and longer with fewer folk enthusiastic about doing another lap. The previous year a halt was called after 6 laps. Mary and Emma did 8 (though Mary confessed to not finishing all her beers) and I remember counting 10 laps on my watch afterwards though the numbers were becoming very erratic. Was that a 16 minute lap or a 16 minute chat?
The only yobs in Portland were..... us.
Blah blah blah blah blah as a newt.I don't remember going back to Jim's house. I remember him telling me I could get a shower upstairs. This was the last thing I accomplished before Ian saw me doing the final running of the evening across the kitchen and out the patio doors. Happily I made the back garden before the impromptu beer fountain. I remained immobile on the grass for several centuries while the peepers went about their night-time business. I spent a lot of the time holding the hems of my trousers tight round my ankles since I had washed off the bug spray, reflecting on the merits of pacing oneself. (Next day I was peppered abundantly with bites.) I felt absolutely wasted and was only slightly cheered up by the presence of Derek who seemed, if anything, slightly worse than myself. As well as battling the demon drink he had also taken a dive off the planks at some point and had several dents and scrapes to his bodywork. Ian came out for a chat and together we worked the audio capture on the camera, me talking, him pushing buttons. Results here. Eventually nurse Hunter was dispatched to dust down the wounded. I believe there was a barbeque somewhere but luckily I never saw it before being hussled into a cab where I made a surprising recovery. The driver couldn't get us home and out his beautiful cab quick enough. Derek and Eric were judged too badly damaged to get in a cab and last I heard, Shauna, who had known when to quit (after one beer) was preparing to drive their corpses back into town and scoop them out onto the pavement at the appropriate point.
Thanks to Jamie on the left for taking the photos - well most of them.Were there any winners? Apart from the mosquitoes, no. I probably led the pace after Andrew started sipping his beers but this one was about “still standing” rather than a finish line. Andrew and Eric were rumoured to have gone back out with head-torches to do some extra distance (Eric was acknowledged winner last year after a similar tactic,) but whether a lap counted or not if you were on all fours was debatable. As ever pacing is the biggest factor if you want to go the distance. Highly recommended, if toxic. Well done Trail Monsters we had a brilliant holiday. Thank you.
Next day we flew home.
Report pb
Photos pb, Emma (bridge jump), Jamie Anderson, big thanks to Jim Dunn for letting us anywhere near his lovely house. I'm not sure how I can pay you back.
