Stonecat Ale Trail Marathon, Saturday, November 8, 2003
This race is listed in our trail race calendar.

When Dave Geary’s peering in your window at 4:47 am, you know it’s going to be a memorable day. Sidelined by plantar fascitis, Geary had magnanimously volunteered to chauffeur marathoners Wes Lassen and Bob Gillis, along with myself (Jenn Lassen, spectator extraordinaire) to Willowdale State Park for the Stonecat Ale Trail Marathon.

Despite the temperature mysteriously dropping about 40 degrees from Gloucester to Ipswich, running conditions were just about perfect. The event began with a pre-dawn race meeting consisting of one organizer, 200 shivering runners, and an eerily accurate Stonecat (perhaps this is what was causing all the concern over in Manchester a while back?) Course descriptions and cautions over, everyone lined up and the adventure began.

It was with difficulty that Dave and I managed to wait until after the start to book it over to Dunkin’ Donuts and grab coffee; only the most dedicated could have done it. With near-perfect timing, we collected our caffeine and arrived back at the 3-mile mark shortly before Bob and Wes did. They looked relaxed, comfortable, and smiley. Dave and I yelled our encouragement, then picked up our provisions and began the trek to our planned cheering spot on the course. We were almost there when Dave realized I’d forgotten the posters (and those of you who saw the posters know they were not to be forgotten). I stayed to set up the tent at the 9/18 mile mark and get the hot chocolate going while Dave went back to get them.

Wes and Bob came through the 9 mile mark looking relaxed, still smiley but slightly less comfortable. Wes had stripped down to a singlet and shorts, but Bob was holding strong in the flannel shirt. You just don’t look hardcore in a singlet, right Bob? Wes and Bob had passed, several other runners had passed, but where was Dave? Feeling a little lonely, with visions of Dave laying in the middle of the trail, clutching his bad heel in one hand and pictures of near-naked women in the other, I tried his cell-phone, but to no avail.

Just about the time I realized Rick was also long overdue, Dave finally appeared out of the woods, conniving smirk intact. Dave hands me the posters before announcing, “Rick’s lost. I have to go rescue him.” And then it hits me that all of the times I’ve been severely lost in Dogtown have also been with Rick. Guess who’s getting a compass and an exhaustive collection of trail maps for Christmas?

Meanwhile, while I was drinking my 3rd cup of hot chocolate and Dave was Saving Private Rick, Bob and Wes were picking up their support crew of Steve Whittey and Peter Vadala at the start of their second loop (mile 13). Wes and Whittey came through the 15 mile area still looking relaxed, but Wes was definitely not smiling and was looking a smidge less comfortable. Whittey, well, what do you expect? Whittey was bounding over the rocks in his usual fashion. They’d pulled away a bit from Bob and Peter, who were about 5-10 minutes behind. Bob was also looking a little uncomfortable, but still making his booming proclamations that this was indeed “a beautiful thing.”

Rick headed off to run a few miles with Bob and Peter while Dave and I moved the tent back to the 18 mile spot. The two areas were only about 15o meters apart, but most of the runners didn’t know that, and that is the real reason to bring a tent onto the course. Apparently, it confuses the heck out of people.

Dave and I made another cup of hot chocolate, and watched the race start to develop. The top three runners had decisively pulled away from the rest of the field and were still running in a tight pack. The #1 one woman was all by herself but still looking strong, and a few minutes behind her, the #1 50-mile woman was still floating over the trail. By now there were a lot of familiar faces on the course, and most looked like they were still having fun despite feeling pretty beat up.

Wes and Whittey came through still well towards the front of the pack, but Wes no longer looked comfortable or relaxed. Eyes were glazed over, snot was dried on, and skin was starting to look a little grey. Still, after a quick chat and a water refill, on they went. Bob, Peter, and Rick were a few groups back. Bob looked more comfortable but was also more chatty, so perhaps he was just better at hiding it? A few encouraging fist claps and they too, were off. Rick, Dave, and I cheered for a few more groups, then packed up the camp and headed to the finish, where Wes was sitting in a hallway staring blankly at the wall, and Bob was heading in, still looking strong but with disturbingly blue lips. And Stonecat was done, at least for the marathoners.

Youngin’ Patrick Mahoney took first in 3:36:20, just ahead of second place finisher Jason Patch, who ran 3:37:50. The two pulled away from third place runner John Burke, who finished in 3:55:23. Christina Robeson was the first woman and fourth overall, finishing in 3:57:23. Wes rounded out the top five, finishing in 3:58:39, beating his goals of going under 4 hours and of finishing in the top ten. Bob came through in 4:27:39, good enough for 23rd place. Todd Walker won the 50 mile race in a course-record 7:09:38, and Lori Lebel was the top woman in 8:35:13.

Many thanks go to Mark Asaro, who went all the way up to Ipswich to cheer before heading down to Franklin Park to watch little Asaro kick butt at the Eastern Mass Championships (the freshman was 72nd in 18:10.40), and to Peter Watson, who tried to get to Ipswich but was foiled by car trouble.

Visit www.gaconline.net/scres03.html for complete results.