Footprints

by Budd Glassberg

Reprinted with permission from the Zionsville Times Sentinel on January 30, 2008

A Pleasant Race in the Woods

I first heard about it from an email I received from Sloetoe. Sloetoe heard about it from Russ, who lives in Bloomington and had won the first Knobstone Trail 50 miler. The KT-50, as Sloetoe calls it, is a low budget race that Sloetoe began directing in 2003. I think there were eight of us who ran it in 2003. The KT-50 was perhaps the most low key, disorganized, and immensely enjoyable races I have ever run. The email mentioned a Saturday nine-mile trail race in Bloomington and gave directions to the starting line. Sloetoe mentioned in the email that he was definitely attending and that the race had no fees. He knew I would like that. More on Sloetoe later.

Heading down to Bloomington on Saturday morning, I was excited about the new trails I would see. The weather cooperated with bright sun and mild temperatures. I had a little trouble finding the trail head, but after one wrong turn, I saw several cars parked in a lot near Lake Griffey and figured that was the spot. There were about twenty other runners stretching in the lot. I asked one of them if this is where the trail race begins and was assured that I was in the right place.

A red-headed fellow I had seen before came up to me and asked me if I was Budd. “Yeah”, I said, “You look familiar to me.”

“I am one of the Bad Boys,” he said.

“You are Rash, aren’t you?”

“That’s me,” he responded. “I am putting on this race.”

Rash led about twenty-five of us up the road about fifty meters and gave us a description of the course. Most of the runners were from Bloomington and seemed to know the trails that Rash was describing. I looked around for Sloetoe, but did not see him so I decided to follow the oldest looking runner in hopes that I might not get lost.

Russ, Rash and three other guys took off when Rash yelled “Go.” They were already thirty meters ahead of the rest of us by the time we turned off the road into the woods. I got right behind the fellow with the gray beard, who it turned out was going to lead a pack of about a dozen of us. This chase pack kept loosing ground to the leaders as the terrain kept us running either up or down and wiggled to the point that we could no longer see the lead pack. Keeping up with Graybeard was not difficult. He offered to let another of us lead, but we all declined and allowed him to set our pace except for one woman named Lindsay who took off after the lead pack. Except for me and Graybeard, most of the runners making up the chase pack were in their twenties and thirties. Several conversations sprung up among our group in the first few miles and then mostly petered out.

At around four miles into the race, the hills began to take their toll on several in our pack. The chase pack was reduced to graybeard, a tall guy, two younger women and me. At about the five mile mark, ascending a very steep hill, I began to walk allowing Graybeard, Tall-man and Fast-lady lead, while Slower-lady and I walked the hill. The hill continued for some time. Cresting the hill, I began running again and caught up to the other three quicker than I had anticipated.

Soon Tall-man and Fast-lady faded. Alone with Graybeard, I introduced myself and received his proper name. He is Doug Trueblood, a Bloomington resident who frequents the trails around Lake Griffey. At a long straight-a-way we noticed Lindsay was about 100 meters ahead of us. Doug mentioned that she was a local star who is usually the first female finisher at several running events in Bloomington.

Back in the woods we had several stream crossings which wet our feet. At one of these, Tall-man sprinted by us. I felt no inclination to go after him, but Doug took the challenge. We came out of the woods near the boat launch about one mile from the finish with Lindsay about 60 meters ahead followed by tall-man maybe 20 meters behind her, then Doug about 10 meters behind tall-man and then me. In the boat launch parking lot there was a tall, thin familiar silhouette.

“Sloetoe?” I yelled.

“Buddman,” he replied, “What are you up to?”

“I’m in a race. Where were you?”

“I got a late start.”

This was such typical Sloetoe behavior. It made me smile though. Sloetoe would probably run the entire course by himself and have a wonderful time.

As we headed back into the woods we immediately came to another very steep hill. The three runners ahead of me ran it while I walked. I was not sure where the finish was, but kept going for another half mile until I heard voices. I finished in the parking lot. Rash was there with a handshake. There was no clock to time the event, no place count, no awards, just a feeling of accomplishment. I stuck around while several others finished over the next half hour.

On the way home, I reflected on the race and how much I enjoyed it. I have run in dozens of very well organized races over the years. Most are competitive, charge fees, list results and provide aid and awards. This race topped them all. It reminded me of pickup ballgames I used to play as a boy. It was just a bunch of people with a common interest in sport who engage in a competition for the sake of the sport. There was no need for recognition or status. I don’t know my time or place and no one knew exactly how long the course was. It was just a pleasant race in the woods.

Budd Glassberg is a 23 year resident of Zionsville who works and volunteers in the community. Visit www.runz.com for reprints of all his columns. You can reach him by email at budd@runz.com.