Going Up: Mountain Climbing for Runners

Before I was a runner I was a hiker. My father took my brother and me hiking in Acadia nearly every week when we were little. The park was literally in our backyard, so getting to trailheads didn’t take very long and we knew how to avoid crowded areas in the summer (though it was a lot less crowded in general back then; it was the ‘70s after all).

The hikes made for some of our best family time. My brother and I really enjoyed the cold sodas that Dad bought and packed to the top for us (Orange Crush! RC Cola! Mello Yello! Just plain Coke!), and those pink granite summit ledges quickly became my favorite place to be as a kid (well, after the Star-Wars-toy aisle up at Woolworths, that is).

By fourth grade I’d made it to the summit of nearly every peak in the park. By fifth grade I’d climbed Katahdin, and by the end of high-school I’d made it to the top of every mountain in Acadia (and obsessively set foot on every foot of every trail on the entire island; I still have the old AMC map full of orange magic-marker lines that I used to track my progress). The thrill of making it to the top of new peaks never got old.

All of which is just to say that the climbing came first for me. Running started as a lark one day when, as Dad and my brother and I descended the north ridge of Dorr Mountain, we decided to just let gravity win. Instead of carefully stepping as we made our way down, we just did what our bodies wanted us to do: we stopped braking and ran. Down the open ledges, flying over occasional drops, leaping off rocks, and sometimes swinging on tree branches. Dangerously but thrillingly, the precise placement of a next footfall was decided in mid-air. We whooped, we hollered, and we laughed, and it was so much freaking fun. At the bottom, we knew we’d just established a grand new family tradition. The climb, which did come first, led the way to superb descent delights.

Over time, however, the running spread to more than just downhills. Hiking boots gave way to trail shoes. And the big backpacks of yore evolved into hydration vests while Nalgene bottles morphed into handheld carry bottles. It was the mid-90s, and I learned about trail running. The national magazines and websites didn’t exist yet, but a now-defunct regional journal called Running Wild chronicled all aspects of the northeastern trail running scene.

Today, runners here where I live in the Pioneer Valley area of western Massachusetts are fortunate to have a bounty of appealing local peaks to scamper around on. Among the mountains that offer enjoyable runs (both up and down) are Mt. Warner in Hadley (a 2-mile loop); Mt. Tom in Holyoke/Easthampton (many miles of options); Mt. Toby in Sunderland/Montague (run up the fire road, soar down the RFT on Cranberry Ridge); Sugarloaf; Pocumtuck Ridge; Greenfield Ridge; Northfield Mountain (the Rose Ledge Trail loop is terrific); Mt. Grace; and Moore Hill in DAR State Forest (try the lovely NEMBA Trail). So many fun options.

Mountain running basically combines nearly everything I love into one enticing activity. I run roads and tracks too, for variety and training, but my heart is still out in the hills, freely flowing up and over those peaks with wild abandon and joy.

*****

Ben is the author of the guidebook Trail Running Western Massachusetts and the editor of the newsletter of the Sugarloaf Mountain Athletic Club, The Sugarloaf Sun. 

Wet Hot American Summer

Somewhere around late July it started to get a bit old. Earlier in the summer, I raved glowingly about the near-perfect weather we’d been having here in western Massachusetts (see the From the Editor column in the July/August issue of SMAC's newsletter, The Sugarloaf Sun. Well. What a difference a few months make.

After a brief early flirtation with drought conditions, we endured several heat waves, multiple deluge-like downpours, and long stretches of high humidity and sticky surfaces. And while it might not have been the most consistently stormy summer on record, thunderstorms were not uncommon. In mid-August, a disenchanted running friend was observed forlornly posting online: “Cloudy, muggy, chance of rain... like every day before and every day to come…”. Many local runners training for the first New England Green River Marathon found it a challenge to pick out sensible or comfortable windows for getting their long runs in.

But still, it was summer. And for my part I know I did my level best to live it up while I could. Mountainy trail runs, cool dips in rivers and lakes and ponds, bike rides just for the bit of breeze you could get on them, and warm dinners outside in the twilight at any restaurant with a patio. I may like fall the best, and hey maybe I do play 2nd favorites with winter, but I firmly believe there’s much to be savored in every season, and I don’t plan to start actually complaining about any of them now. Not for more than a few sentences, at any rate. Life’s too short for whining any more than that. As I heard a woman on the radio say, “It’s just weather; you like it or not.”

The First New England Green River Marathon

On August 26, several hundred smiling athletes ran the first ever New England Green River Marathon. I'd been on the planning committee for it, and was also the official race photographer (see the full photo gallery here, or a highlights album here). Now, a week afterwards, I'm so pleased to report that overall we can call it a terrific success.  

Runners responded to a post-race survey with lots of rave reviews, heartfelt kudos, and helpful suggestions. The weather cooperated and on race day we had a rather pleasant morning with mostly overcast skies for the first part of the run. The temps never rose too high, and the humidity wasn’t crushing. The sun came out in full force for the final road miles where it did warm up, but by then runners were close enough to taste the sweet thrill of victory awaiting them at the finish line at Greenfield Community College. 

the start at Marlboro College (photos by Ben Kimball unless otherwise noted)

the bridge at mile 10 (photo by Matt Cavanaugh)

L: Overall race winner Meg Brockett in full stride at mile 12.

R: Erica Belanger finishes at Greenfield Community College.

cooling off at mile 23

Race directors Tom and Laure Van den Broeck Raffensperger deserve heaps of praise, not just for making it all happen but doing it in style. The whole thing felt very professional and the overall eco-friendly vibe was unmistakable. Asked afterwards for a quick overview statement, Tom said: “Despite a few harrowing moments, the race went better than I could have hoped for, and the credit goes to the all-volunteer race committee, our community partners, and all our race-day volunteers.” 

Speaking of volunteers: they came out in droves on race day, doing everything from from getting runners to the start, to staffing aid stations, to working the finish line. Several people even toiled tirelessly from well before dawn in a big rental truck dropping off (and later picking up) supplies at all the aid stations. It was so heartening to see so much vigorous support for the event. Help came from afar too; the wife of a runner from Maine even volunteered for several hours handing out cups of water and Gatorade at the mile 10 aid station. A huge thank you goes out to everyone for giving it their all and making this first year a real success.

 Runners on Green River Road alongside the super-scenic Green River at mile 12

Make sure to read Patrick Pezzati’s awesome article the Sept/Oct 2018 issue of SMAC's newsletter in which he shares his unique perspectives on the marathon, both as lead bike ahead of the runners and as the announcer at the finish line. His guidance was crucial during the race for first place, and his enthusiastic fervor as MC at the finish line was greatly appreciated by everyone involved. [EDIT: Another excellent article about the event was written a few months later by Jennifer York, who ran the race; see it on p. 4 of the 2018 Annual issue of SMAC's newsletter.]