Let's just say that the 2011 edition of the Dirty started with a bang.
You could also say it got off on the wrong foot.
Either way, I'm glad no one told the racers to break a leg before the race.
The race got off to a much faster start than last year. The lead-pack TMBs had a hard time staying ahead of the Dirties in the first 10 or 15 minutes. The rainy fall had turned the first mile of trails into a quagmire, forcing the bikers to take risks of totally eating dirt in order to stay ahead of the runners.
Dirties Kyle Washington, Gary Allen, Keegan Ennis, and Susan Plissey arrived in a pack at the snowmobile bridge where Presque Isle Stream connects with the Aroostook River. They were ordered to bushwhack down an embankment to the river and follow along the shoreline until further notice.
The race was just 15 minutes old when Kyle, last year's men's winner, stayed a little too far to the left ,and fell for what seemed like an eternity.
Banged up and bruised, his only major injury was a gash in his thigh, luckily. It could have been much worse.
Just 15 minutes in, and we already had our first racer quit.
The remaining 3 in the lead pack set off down the hill, visibly rattled by Kyle's fall down the now aptly named Kyle's Drop.
A few minutes later, the chase pack arrived and were instructed to carefully go down the hill. None of them looked impressed.
Just a couple of hundred yards later, all were stopped for their first pain station.
A few of us not working the station viewed the scene from above. 9 Dirties on a riverbank in the dark of the early morning, circled by TMBs yelling and telling them to do a range of physical challenges. It looked like SEAL training.
After the TMBs felt they'd worked the Dirties enough, they sent the runners down the river, again, until further notice.
Boyd, Eric Macek, and I stood on the riverbank, maybe a mile away, listening. I could hear the splashing as they drew near, but saw no lights...and then I heard why. "If they're going to f_ck with us, we're going to f_ck with them!" one of the racers exclaimed. I figured they were just referring to them turning off their lights, but when they came into view, I saw something I couldn't believe.
First, Gary emerged from the darkness, clad in his Spartan outfit, which he had actually driven in from all the way from Mount Desert Island. In his hand was the leg bone of a moose, which was really only 90% decomposed. It smelled awful. Susan was next, carrying another piece of moose, followed by Keegan with a clavicle. It was barely two miles into the race and we'd already had a near death of a racer, and dead animal scavengers!
Meanwhile, Amy Poland, Jess Grass, Renee Ennis, Brent Jepson, and Michelle Roy were being attacked by snakes... rather, Amy had a piece of river vegetation wrap around her leg, and absent-mindedly said, "Sea Snake!", which inspired a moment of panic in the chase group.
They exited the river at the railroad trestle, and started running along the rail trail toward Fort Fairfield...they wouldn't get far before it was time to turn right onto the trail heading to Conant Road.
All runners were able to run up the long, long half mile hill that started that trail off. I was amazed. Not many people in an ultra would run that whole thing. Beasts. They hit Conant Road and turned around, making up time on the way back to the rail trail- it was almost all downhill in this direction.
Taking a right back onto the rail trail, it wouldn't be long until they hit their next pain station, where Kate Knowles and Boyd were waiting. I arrived with Macek to see Susan Plissey and Gary Allen throwing a tire at each other. After Kate and Boyd were tired of watching pass, they made the tire an implement of upper-body destruction. Pushups of all kinds tore up their pecs and triceps. This race was turning into a boot camp...and it was about to get worse. Perhaps having a feeling about this, Jess Grass dropped. It was her first real race, and making it 8ish miles was a super job by her.
After the athletes were done at pain station 2, it was time to run to the Nordic Heritage Center- the hardest way possible. They ran up the hill on 167 which seemed to go forever, only to turn left at Quoggy Jo. Running up the ski hill and then through the woods, they arrived in a large field that they would grow to hate over the next hour. At this point, our youngest Dirty, Keegan, dropped. It was a great effort by the young man, who has now toed the line for both Dirty 30s. Brave dude.
They came to the parking lot of Nordic Heritage Center to find a truck full of random heavy things scattered all over the place, and the same people that had hazed them earlier by the river. It was apparent that they were going to be here awhile.
This was Hell Hour, and each TMB had their turn with the Dirties. It was all about physical challenge and embarrassment, and maybe even a little fun, if the attitude was right.
I watched Brent Jepson get pushed up a handicap ramp in a hand-truck, wearing a blue kids' snowmobile helmet and a child's float around his waist. The TMBs watched Sarah Gahagan force all Dirties to bear-crawl up and down a steep hill. We all laughed as racers in twos pulled another one carrying a cinder block around in a trailer. Think Beauty Pageant meets parade. And that was just a few of the nonsense challenges. In between tasks: run laps around the field.
The racers would cover just 2 miles in one hour, even though they were constantly moving. Somehow, the mood stayed upbeat- thanks to the energetic and "Walking Wikipedia TMB" Boyd , who did, I think, everything the racers did, and then some.
When the racers left Hell Hour, the Dirty 30 was approaching halfway complete. Somehow, we still had 6 people left. Everyone was smiling and laughing...and I knew, with mixed feelings, that the Dirty 30 was going to have a lot more finishers than last year.
Down the hill and back to Mojo, Gary and Susan were the first to arrive. They'd been running together the whole race, and knowing what was about to happen, I couldn't wait to see who was going to pull ahead.
A little while later, the remaining 4 began showing up at Mojo. It was at this time that Renee, a 2-time Dirty, pulled from the race. 22 miles. Amazing. To see the improvement of her and her son Keegan from last year's performance makes me so proud. I know next year she will get it done.
A few more tasks and it was time to run...two 4 mile lollipop style loops and this thing was going to be over. At the beginning of the loop part of the lollipop, we separated Susan and Gary. There was a moment of confusion, but they soon settled into their own rhythms. When Gary and I met Susan and her TMB Kate, Susan muttered to Gary "Just wait." I asked Gary if he could swim, and he said,"I think so...if not, I'll just find a couple milk jugs to hold onto."
Good, because he was about to do what Susan was referring to: hike down a steep embankment and swim across the cold Presque Isle Stream. It was a riot to watch from the bridge, this spartan in a helmet swimming across the river.
Running by Bicentennial Park, another race was going on...a sprint triathlon involving kayaks. That race's workers and athletes gave us a funny look. Who the hell was this Spartan, soaking wet and haggard, crashing their race? By the second loop, the word got around that this was the hardcore Dirty 30, and there were cheers abound.
Catherine Packard would later say,"Thanks for making my race look like a wuss event!" Sorry Catherine, I had no idea there was another race going on!
Gary finished at 11:15, and the finish-line party started. This was my favorite part of the day. With every person that finished, the crowd at the end got bigger, and each finisher got a larger reception. 7 minutes later, Plissey arrived, and then Michelle Roy, followed by Brent Jepson, and finally Amy Poland.
Many people will probably read this report, but few will actually understand the magnitude of how special this day was. You have to be there to see the emotional ups and downs that the Dirties go through on their way to the finish line. There is something so inspiring about seeing that point of ignition, when a person is down on themselves, eyes to the ground, walking....and out of nowhere, they choose to fight, and start running again. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.
Congratulations to all Dirties, finishers and non finishers. Just coming to the start line took an act of bravery. I know how nervous many of you were. It takes guts to face that fear.
Thank you to all helpers. It sounds cliche to say that it couldn't have been done without you, but that statement is 110% true. I look forward to next year already!
krp
