Eagle Creek Trail Marathon Epic Report

We did it. It was tough, it was hot, and it had some of the most terrifying moments of my life, but we did it and the race gave us some amazing memories.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early to find that the four of us had already made the drive from home to Eagle Creek. We rolled out of the car to tend to the first task of race day. At that point, we decided that port-o-lets should be equipped with nightlights. I think someone even requested air conditioning so we figured we'd put that on our wish list for Michael to address. Michael is a friend of ours from our running group and he's also an employee of Planet Adventure, the company putting on the race. Michael became our omnipotent, omnipresent guardian for the rest of the day. Too many hills on the race? That's ok, Michael will fix it. Fearing for your life? Don't worry, Michael is looking out for us. I wonder if Michael ever realized how much we were depending on him during our races? Thank you, Michael!

A bit of background: Eagle Creek Park is in Indianpolis and its centerpiece is a 1400 acre reservoir bounded by almost 4000 acres of hilly woodlands. I went into this race a bit over-confident. I had convinced myself that running the trails of Bloomington would enable this to be a relatively easy race. While it was no Paynetown, I certainly underestimated how rugged a trail in Indianapolis could be! Must be why this trail is ranked as Runners World's Best Urban Trail Marathon. The race is set on a 13-mile loop that we would run twice (turns out that it's actually a 13.6-mile loop but who's counting?).

Pre-race activities are a blur: repeated trips from the staging area to the car (forgot my hat, Mel needed her coffee, blah, blah), repeated visits to port-o-lets, hand wringing and pacing. In other words, we were dealing with a lot of nervous energy that would only be fixed by the race starting. The marathoners would start first in two self-seeded waves, followed by two waves of half marathoners, then the quarter marathoners. We opted for the second wave which meant there were only about 20 folks in our wave, the other 102 started in the first wave. I think this worked to our advantage: the bottlenecks were neglible, we weren't being passed or needing to pass, and there weren't 102 people ruining the moment.

After the usual pre-race announcements, the first wave took off, and we lined up. Nobody in the second wave wanted the front row. It was pretty comical: all of us second-wave runners standing around like we're afraid of the starting line and don't want to get too close. As it turned out, Heather, Erin, and I took the front row. Hilarious. I don't think I've ever seen the starting line from that perspective. The race director gave us a countdown of 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1 and we were off. Oh. My. This is really happening.

The first few miles were fun: we went out faster than we planned and that was a surprise. We were trying to slow down, but the terrain was easier than we were used to, we were still on a nervous high, and we weren't sure what to expect of the course. The trail really was beautiful: hills, single track dirt trails, lots of obstacles in downed trees and roots, and we were in the woods so how can it NOT be nice?

Halfway through the third mile, we heard a voice saying "just grab my hand and I'll lift you over". Huh? It was a slight bottleneck there, maybe 3 or 4 people, so I couldn't see what they were talking about other than they were going up a steep incline. Once Erin and I made it to source of the voice, we could see that there was a wonderful volunteer wearing textured-grip gloves helping folks clamber over a metal road guardrail.

This began one of the sections that we would learn to hate: the 0.8 mile-long causeway over the reservoir. Ugh. Not just asphalt, but asphalt on a 4-lane road without trees. Yuck. Drudgery. Since this is an out-and-back course that we run twice, we'd be running it 3 more times. Yuck x 4. Just buckle down and do it, right?

We get off of the causeway and we're immediately back in the woods. Aaahhhh...much better, not just mentally, but physically. The impact of the asphalt on our feet felt horrible compared to the dirt of the trail. After about 2 more miles in the woods, the course starts a 2-mile loop that gets us turned around for the reverse of the route. We were horribly disappointed when we realized that we weren't going to see our friend Heather! We'd been looking forward to seeing her and cheering for her. So sad, but we hoped we'd get to see her on the next loop.

  Even though we'd read the course description and had seen the course map, somehow we had it in our heads that this was a short loop. A few minutes and we'd be on our way back to the start. Uh, no. We had to run this awful gravel road around the lake (ouch, ouch, more impact on tired feet) and THEN we got to go back. The only redeeming factor of this stupid gravel road is that we got to see Ana. She was running the half and she caught up to us at this point. Some nice chatter with her while we walked, then we sent her on her speedy way again. Another little boost that helped to get us closer to home, then we were back in the woods again.

We knew that we had about 2 miles of woods before we hit the causeway again. The causeway and the gravel became our focal points: just get it over and we'll be that much closer to the good parts. Just before arriving at the causeway, we heard "yoo hoo" and turned to see Miss Mel catching up to us. Hooray! Another quick photo op, chatting, and some quick encouragement. When we got to the road itself, Mel advised us that she wanted to get that part over as fast as possible, she took off and we watched her fade in the distance. Erin kept saying that she thought the race wouldn't start for her until we started the second loop. I think seeing Mel run on ahead is what made it real to me.

Approaching the start area was tough. Most of the folks running around us (and there weren't many) were running the half. They'd express some amazement that we were in it for the full and then, more often than not, they'd run on ahead. As we crossed the start line itself, it was a bit amazing to think that we were only halfway done. I was tired, I was drenched in sweat, and now I was going to do exactly the same thing all over again. Really?? We also realized that we were going to cover more than 27 miles before this was done. Wow.

 

Loop number 2. Same as the first, little bit louder, little bit worse.

On the second loop, we were amazed that the aid station volunteers were still so happy. It was wonderful enough that they were even there, but they actually seemed thrilled to be there and even happier to see us! They made us feel like rockstars, like we were the most awe-inspiring runners they'd seen all day.  You have no idea how much that means until you're a runner four hours on your feet with four more to go and that cheerful attitude gives you this enormous boost that puts you on top of the world. It didn't hurt their angel-like status that they had ice and the most delectable potatoes I've ever had. Potatoes as a delicacy? Yes, these potatoes are something to dream about. Maybe it's the race, maybe it's the fatigue, but those little heavenly nuggets of salty goodness were spectacular. Yummmm...

Trip number 3 across the causeway found us doing a lot more walking than running, so Erin initiated a bit of a fartlek program to get us over that cursed bridge. "Run to the second roadkill" was the challenge. Weird, but ok, I'll play along. I was so tired that during this point I started to get worried that someone has moved the roadkill and I might have to run the whole way. Seeing Mr. Raccoon's poor little carcass relieved me though, another walk break. RIP, Mr. Raccoon.  Or other small brown furred creature.  I'm not really sure what it was.  Ick.

As we made the trek through the woods from causeway to gravel road again, we finally got to see Heather. Woo hoo! Cheers, high fives on the run, and then she was speeding back towards the finish line. Lucky girl, we still had to deal with Hell on Gravel. By the time we got to the gravel, we were resigned to walking the whole damn road. Our feet were hurting and the act of running on gravel was just about unbearable. We complained, we moped, we just wanted to get that stupid gravel behind us. The sun was shining in a blue sky and it was HOT. I looked up at the sky and noted that there were some clouds, I even asked the sun to go hide behind them for a bit. Just stay behind the clouds until we get back into the trees, maybe send a small rainshower our way? Please? No luck. Sun stayed out and kept things toasty. Trudging my way through it, I was starting to feel a little broken.  

Back in the trees again, after a few minutes we debated if we were hearing thunder or airplanes. Probably airplanes, we decided. The sun was shining, the sky was blue. Why would we be hearing thunder. Wishful thinking on my part, I'd hoped for a little rainshower to cool me off. A few minutes later though, we realized that it was thunder but it still sounded a long ways off. I revised my wish for rain to specify that rain was welcome, however I did NOT want to run in a thunderstorm, because that's just dumb, crazy, and dangerous.

There was an aid station a short distance before the course throws us out of the woods and onto the causeway. One of the volunteers says, "looks like your run across the causeway might get interesting" as he motions through the trees across the reservoir. Holy crappola, the clouds are scary dark over there! Erin and I realize that the causeway is probably the most exposed, isolated place we could be during a storm so we realize that if we can get there in time, we'll need to cross it as quickly as we can to minimize the hazard. We try to pick up the pace a bit, my right knee is starting to hurt and Erin's back is twingy but we do our best. Then, we get to the causeway. We are saying we hope the cop running traffic duty doesn't force us into his car to wait out the storm.

From the trail itself, we can see the dark clouds to our left (turns out that was the south). We have storm to our left, blue skies to the right. We don't know which way the storm is moving: towards us, parallel, or away from us. Erin says we need to run the whole bridge and I agree, so we take off. We get maybe a third of the way across and then we can see it. A massive, fast-moving wall of water moving our way. Somehow, we found another gear and sped up. Hurry, hurry, maybe we can still get across before it gets here....um, no, it's getting closer and fast. Then it's coming at us from the front. We see this wall of rain from both directions, the front and the left. We're about to get pounded. I kid you not, we're terrified.

  I feel the first raindrop at the same time that Erin says, "it's raining." I have barely enough time to mutter in agreement and then it's a downpour. Actually, it's more like a sidepour: the rain is coming straight at us from the left, sideways. It's raining so hard that it hurts. I have my running cap on, but it's not keeping the rain from being blown UNDER the brim. I'm holding onto my hat so it doesn't blow away. Lightning strikes so closely that the thunder is instantantaneous. We both scream. And curse in fear. I know I ducked, as if being 3" shorter is going to save me. We are running balls to the wall. Honest to God with every inch of my being I'm literally running for my life. It starts to hail but we can't run any faster. Luckily, the hail is small and not big enough to cause actual injury but it's still frightening. I'm wheezing, having trouble breathing, but I know Erin can't hear it over the storm. We're just trying to get across the bridge intact. Just as we get to the end of the bridge, it stops almost as fast as it started. Lightning strikes very close, we scream again. We just want to get under cover as fast as we can. I drag my exhausted self over that mountain of a guardrail and my feet just about go out from under me on the now-slick descent to the trail. I turn to warn Erin that it's slick and then here she comes.

Later that evening I learned that we experienced the southern edge of a derecho. The storm continued to build and raced across northern/central Indiana and on into Ohio. A wind gust of 63 mph was recorded at Eagle Creek reservoir and I felt it first-hand. While it certainly made for an exciting run, I hope that I never experience it again! When I uploaded my Garmin data, I see that we tore across the causeway at a sub 10:00 pace. At mile 24, for the two of us, that is nothing short of astounding. If you had told me that I would have run it that fast even 5 minutes earlier, I would have laughed in your face. I don't think that I've ever truly experienced the "fight or flight response" like I did during that storm. As it turns out, adrenalin is a pretty amazing chemical. Not only does it make your heart beat faster, open your airways, and give you strength you didn't realize you had, it's a pretty potent pain reliever. In the short term.

Erin and I had a few minutes of "oh my god, can you believe what just happened" and conflicting emotions of fear, triumph, and elation. We relished that our wet, cold feet actually felt better. Then, the pain hit. As in, my right knee doesn't want to play nice anymore. I don't know what I hurt, but it was obvious that in my panic to outrun the storm, I strained something pretty good. There was no way that I could run uphill, it hurt too much. Extend my knee? Forget it, not gonna do it. I'm trying to walk as fast as I can to keep up with Erin, but she doesn't think that's good enough in the final mile. "Victor, we are finishing this in under 8 hours if it kills us! Pull up your big boy pants and do it!" I'm not sure when the gender change occurred or why I even listened, but I did what she commanded. Little baby running steps, even uphill, and we crossed the finish in 7:53. Just like she said we would.

Random memory snapshots of the race. Random because in my exhausted state I honestly don't remember when/where I was when they happened. Making a Power Arch for random marathon walker guy, I think we scared him a bit. Thinking Erin was in extreme pain but then realizing it was a pair of "nature lovers" doing what lovers do. In the woods. Thankfully out of sight. Ew. Cheering on dozens of other runners we'd never met until today. Being annoyed by the trail newbies who wouldn't announce their intentions to pass by saying "on your left", they'd just barrel over the top of you or hover at your left shoulder until you'd jump off the trail. Nice.

A day later, the knee is still cranky but it's getting better. I'm still a bit giddy that I ran my first trail marathon. Am I looking to the next one? Not just yet. I'm going to take at least a few days off, then test the legs to see if they're ready. Next up on the agenda is a 5k with Emma, which will probably be a recovery run for me. Once the legs have recovered, I'll be jumping into a half marathon training plan to get me ready for the half at the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon. My goal? Well, let's see how training goes, but I have high hopes.

(Note:  First, sixth, and ninth photos were taken by Doug Mathews--thank you!)