Mr. Clumsy at Mount Sutton

Monsieur Maladroit au Mont Sutton (français ici)

October 2011, this klutz went to Mount Orford and did some Extreme Trail running.  Click here for details. It was a 20 km (12 miles) trek through water, mud, roots, boulders and some trail. I was falling down so many times I had to walk the whole frikking thing or break every bone in my body. I somehow succeeded in finishing in 4 hours 40 minutes… 10 minutes after the finish line was closed. You would have thought that I would have learnt my lesson?  NOPE… I believe Einstein defined insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”, well I went to a sister event of Extreme Trail at Mount Sutton on June 2^nd 2012. I actually did get different results… but my wife still thinks I’m insane.

We had “ideal” conditions for trail running. It had rained the night before and the trails were full of mud. During the race itself, it was cloudy but no rain to speak of until the race was over. At the starting line it was windy but as soon as we hit the woods… no wind either.

So here I was at the starting line with 200 other crazies and a few other those friends who like me mentor at Étudiants dans la course (Students on the Run). Like at Orford, we were all together at the start and after about 5 minutes in the woods swallowed them all up.

Right before I entered the woods, a gust of wind blew my baseball hat off and I ran back to get it. That separated me from my friends and put me almost at the back of the pack. So I hit the woods and the climb began. The first 3 km (2 miles) began with an ascent of 450 meters (almost 1500 feet). This time, I had made a change and bought some trail sneakers, a pair of ASICS Gel-Trabucco. These things are great. I did not slip in the mud; neither did I slip on rocks. For the climb, I was not running, but I was going slow and steady and feeling great. When I got to the first downhill, my legs were strong and I took off. I was zigging and zagging… I was smiling… “I am… A TRAIL RUNNER” was my mantra. I was so full of myself that I missed one of the gazillion roots out there and went flying downhill falling down on rocks, roots and mud. While going down, I tried to reach and slow myself down. All I succeeded in doing was pop my shoulder out. I then rolled right onto my right leg and scraped it all from mid-femur to mid-tibia. At the bottom of the hill I was screaming profanities while lying on my back in the mud.

I first dislocated my shoulder when I was 16 and in the last 30 years I have popped it out about 20 times. It took a few minutes to move my arm in just the right position while I was still on my back to succeed in sliding my shoulder back into place. After a few more screams of pain and a few more profanities, I explained to the runners behind me what had happened. I staggered up and trying to prove that I was functional then they pointed to the blood mixed with the mud on my leg. As fate would have it, I had fallen right almost in front of one of the first-aid technician that was stationed on the course. So while he cleaned up my leg for almost 10 minutes, I was sitting down watching the last of the runners pass me. For the first time I looked at my watch that I had hooked on my hydration pack strap. (5 km - 1 hour elapsed)

Two other guys were talking to me while my leg was being cleaned up. They were in charge of closing the course at the split where the 10 km (6 mile) trail goes back to the station and where the 20 km (12 mile) continues into the mountains. They were explaining that in about 1.65 km (a mile) I could head back to the station if I wanted to or just keep going. Sitting there waiting, I had made my decision; I was going back to the station. I was going to break some bones if I kept going.

After I was all cleaned & patched up, I started jogging slowly to the fork keeping my right arm tucked in more than usual. I was surprised that there wasn’t any more pain in my shoulder & neck. I kept thinking about adrenaline & “fight or flight” instincts and concluded that I was going to be in severe pain when the adrenaline wears off. The trail was nice and rolling slowly and the guys behind me were mentioning that I had the worst done. I wasn’t going too fast or too slow and I also concluded that the only damage to my leg was the huge scrape. I didn’t pull any muscles so my legs felt just great.

I have no idea what possessed me but as soon as I saw the signs for the fork in the trail, I turned and thanked the guys for running with me and I took off down the 20 km trail. The only thought that came to mind was if the trail didn’t kill me, my wife would for doing this.

There’s something liberating knowing you are in last place. The rest I had while they patched me up removed all the soreness I had from the 450 m (1500 feet) climb. I had a nice steady pace going up and down the rolling hills and I felt great. I didn’t feel rushed. I didn’t feel stressed. I was just going for a nice stroll in the mountains. A few times going down the steep inclines I questioned my decision when I fell on my butt but all in all I was smiling.

I started to smile more when I found some more runners and even more when I passed them. I succeeded in passing 6 people but one girl passed me right back after she found her second wind. That incident reminded me to stay humble.

After 16 km (10 miles) there was finally a downhill area without 5 million roots in my way and my pace picked up quite nicely. About 30 minutes later I exited the woods and saw and heard the finish line.

Battered and bruised I cross the finish line in 4:10:37; a full 20 minutes before they closed the finish line! I find out later that I was just 10 minutes behind my fellow buddy mentors from Students on the Run (Étudiants dans la course).

182 crazy people finished that 20 km trek through the mountains and woods at Mount Sutton. There were also another almost 500 people who completed the 5 and 10 km events.

I’m trying to find a moral to my whole crazy adventure and the only thing that comes to mind is that I love trail running… BUT EXTREAME trail running is just one of those love/hate relationships.