Tony Reports on the Delaware Trail Marathon

The Delaware Trail Marathon

by Tony Thoman

I thought my marathoning days were over. I had pretty must lost interest in the distance, and saw no reason to go through the brutal training regimen of 70 miles a week ever again. I already had the perfect coda, running an effortless but slow marathon in Chicago almost five years ago, finishing in tandem with my youngest brother and wife. I didn't care about my time, and for the first time, focused on the camraderie, crowds, and scenery. So, if I were smart, that would be the perfect time to hang it up, and focus on 5Ks.

Unfortunately I am surrounded by teammates who are not only still fired up by the marathon, but are increasingly getting involved in off-road 100 mile races. Marathon fever is contagious, and I think most who have done atleast one marathon are hooked for life, whether they like it or not. Yes, I know many do call it quits after completing one marathon, but how often do such people get wistful, dreaming of the day they get to repeat the experience of enduring a pleasure filled 26 mile course?

When teammate Olga Varlamova came back from the Escarpment Run last summer in one piece, I knew that I still had new ground to cover as a runner. I have gravitated toward trail racing in the last few years, as it ironically is kinder to my aging knees. The Escarpment is something of a legend in the northeastern trail running scene. Unfortunately, there was no way I would even apply to run such a race if I couldn't demonstrate that I could handle a long-distance trail run. When I heard about an opportunity to run a trail marathon in Delaware, I decided it was just the test I needed, to see if I was even worthy of entertaining notions of running the Escarpment.

So, here I was caught in a maddening traffic jam somewhere between Wilmington and Newark, Delaware, heading to a marathon I thought I would never have to do ever again. Doubts of pursuing such a venture increased as I listened to my crying and impatient toddler in the back seat, and looked out at the endless sea of cars in an oppressive yellow haze. All around us were shopping centers, corporate office complexes and landfills. To add further consternation to one who savors a good run on trails ... just where were the hills? I had always pictured Delaware as a pancake-flat state, and snickered when I saw that the organizers of the race even bothered to post an elevation profile of the marathon course on their web site. Well, so far, my doubts regarding running a trail race in Delaware seemed confirmed.

photo by Carl Camp

What a pleasant surprise it was to drive out of Newark and in no time find myself surrounded by woods and fields. Here is one place in the northeast where suburban sprawl has not yet left it's mark. Much of the course was within White Clay Creek State Park, and as it would turn out, not include one inch of pavement in it's 26.2 mile route.

The race began on a lush rolling pasture. A couple hundred of us huddled by the start, some intending to run a half, and the rest of us pursuing a full marathon. Once the race was in progress, I immediately realized that this race did have some real texture to it, as we careened down a steep ravine, slowing down only to avoid tripping over exposed roots and rocks.

The course turned out to be absolutely magnificent. While not as rugged or rocky as many trail runs further north, the course did provide the runner with a steady diet of ups and downs, and just enough flatness to stretch out the legs. The surface was packed dirt, making it possible to look up more, and actually enjoy the surroundings. Here is what I saw:

The bucolic setting could have been Rockefeller State Park. Most of the course is in deep, lush woods, with low lying May Apples and Laurel in profusion. Occasionally, the course would rise out of the woods and head into pasture. There was one stunning stretch, in which the trail wound around a series of meadows, occasionally dipping in and out of darkly wooded stream valleys.It also included four major stream crossings, which are always a source of joy to the trail runner. The stream was cold and waist deep in places. It was hard to see the rocks in the bottom, so it was necessary to ford the stream with some degree of caution. We spent a good amount of time running along White Clay Creek, which was busy with individuals fly fishing.

Since much of the course is single-track, it was hard to pass anyone. For a while, we were all tightly packed, with many warnings being called out: "Careful ... Root!", "Slippery Rock!", "Look out for the hanging branch!". After about half an hour of running in a tight pack, we started to fragment, and by the second half of the race, I was running alone, with no one in sight. This was the hardest part of running such a race. As my mind started to get delirious, I found it a real challenge to focus on the course markings, and I was petrified of making a wrong turn. I could see having to do some unintended mileage in a shorter race, but I didn't want to do one extra yard in a marathon.

Well, I managed to clock a 4:36. That is my slowest marathon time, but I have never felt so content at the end of such a race. Like my earlier race in Chicago, I enjoyed every moment of the run ... again, the comraderie and scenery made the race something to be enjoyed, not merely endured. I still have some unpleasant memories of my last few miles, where I truly ran out of gas, and had to resort to some walking. I still remember feeling the cramping as I tried to lift my legs over fallen logs. I certainly learned just how hard it can be to run a marathon on trails as opposed to roads. Yet, I remember best breathing in the moist and earthy air in the woods, savoring the feeling of cold fresh stream water on my hot, salty skin by the fourth stream crossing, and hearing my wife Maureen cheering for me as I limped across the last pasture toward the finish line.

This was a great race! It is well worth the four hour drive. It is my hope we can get a larger contingent from Van Cortlandt to run this or the other races put on by the Trail Dawgs in White Clay Creek State Park next year. On race day, you can pick between a 5K, 10K, half, or full marathon. Some opt to run all three: 5K, 10K, and the Half, and achieve Triple Crown status (the series of races is officially known as The Trail Triple Crown). For additonal raves, speak to Charles Brewster, who ran the 5K, and Alex Loewe, who ran the Half.

Still not decided... will I make the cut for the Escarpment Run? Will I finish the Escarpment to report on it? Look for the sequel to Olga's report come August!