Race Report | Frozen Trail Runfest 25k: Better Than Expected

By Chase Parnell  —  December 7, 2020

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First of all, let me just say that 25k is such a nice distance. It’s long enough to feel like you get some bang for your buck (this race was a shockingly affordable $45) but you’re not out there all day, asking a lot of your crew or wrecking your body and therefore needing an extended period of recovery afterwards. For where I’m at in life and in my training right now, and with the wife and kids in tow, this was the perfect distance.

The race took place at Lane County’s Howard Buford Recreation Area, which is home to Mount Pisgah, a 1,518 foot butte that juts up from Oregon’s fertile Willamette Valley. This is on the western side of the Oregon Cascades where everything is lush and green and wet, the polar opposite of where I live in Bend, on the eastern side of the mountain range, where desert, juniper, and blue skies reign. 

Having grown up in Eugene, running on these trails felt like home; the nostalgia was off the charts. While I haven’t actually run at Mount Pisgah a ton, it reminded me a lot of the Ridgeline trail that flanks Eugene’s southern skyline. Moss dripping off every branch, dark muddy earth, ferns and pine needles and slugs. The air thick and full of oxygen. 

The 25k started, very generously, at 9:00am so that meant a 5am wake-up call to get the kids in the car by 5:40am for a 2h 40m drive to Mount Pisgah from Bend. The roads were clear, the kids were in relatively good spirits and we enjoyed some sunrise peakaboo mountain views in areas where the fog lifted. The highlight was the pink snowy slopes of Diamond Peak when looking south from Hwy 58 with the heavy blue waters of Odell Lake in the foreground. After seeing it in the early morning light, I’m definitely putting Diamond on the to-do list for 2021. 

We arrive at the starting line with plenty of time. Thirty-five minutes to get my bib number, use the bathroom, change into my running clothes, get a mile warmup in, and head to the start line. 

A couple words on Covid. This race was small, essentially all Oregonians, everyone was masked and keeping distance, and they did a staggered start, which I thought was a nice touch, sending a runner every five seconds. I made a comment on Twitter that it felt about 50 times safer than going to Safeway and it seems like many of you out there agree. I harbor zero guilt for participating in this event and feel it was just about as safe as going out on any other run. 

I self-identified as someone who might run about 7 minute mile pace so I was actually sent off as the second runner. Spoiler alert: it was the appropriate placement. The course was two loops: the base loop, which is essentially a circumnavigation of Mount Pisgah, and the summit loop, which starts along the base loop but then about a quarter of the way around you take a spur trail that sends you up and over the summit to rejoin the base loop once again on the other side. 

From the bottom up, I started the race in the Hoka Torrent 2, Stance run socks, Gore full length tights, Amphipod waist belt with one canaberry Spring Energy gel and one mango Huma gel, a Gore technical t-shirt that Nikki and I joked was fitting a little more snug than in years past (she said I looked buff which for me is actually code for out of shape), my Patagonia Houdini with the hood up, Roam & Run buff, and an REI trucker hat. No gloves, no handheld. It was a frosty 34 degrees at the start and I went back and forth on the full tights decision. In retrospect, I would’ve been fine in shorts but at the time I figured, because this was a rust buster race and because I haven’t done much intensity or speed training, it’d be better to keep the legs as warm as possible to avoid any strains or micro-tears that the cold air might induce.

The race goes off and we set out on undulating terrain, nice tacky single track, making our way around the big hill in a counterclockwise direction. We jump in and out of sloped open fields of golden grass wrapped in frost and dense woods of giant oak and tall pine. We passed something called “The Seeps”, which I believe was referring to the chronic standing water just off the trail. Not running water, not a pond, but seeps. 

It became quickly apparent that the dude who started in first was gone. He was on another level. His five second gap from the start quickly widened and he was out of sight within the first mile or two. For the most part I try to not look behind me so I wasn’t monitoring third place too closely at first but I knew there was a mini out-and-back to an aid station at mile 4 where gaps would be clear. 

I hit the mile 4 turn-around and receive a boost of energy from Nikki and the kids. At the aid I chug about 4oz of water from a single serving water bottle and feel mildly bad about the plastic waste. Cupless/bottleless events are complicated in the Covid-era. I see third place is maybe 30 seconds back; I think I’ve been running about 7 seconds faster per mile, although later I learned he started in fifth position, which meant he started 15 seconds behind me at the start so I hadn’t really put much time on him at all. 

From there, we wind around the eastern and northern slopes and ridges of Mount Pisgah, which felt more heavily treed and had greater expansive views to the valley floors below. There were some fun bomber sections where I tested the strength of my toenails, cursing myself for not tying the laces tighter. 

I feel like I managed my effort pretty well, dialing it back any time I was really losing my breath. I wasn’t sure how far my fitness would take me. My last race was the Elkhorn Crest 50k back in July and I’d done just three workouts leading into this race. Everything else has been my typical easy to moderate base mile runs, with no real intention or effort. I had a few 60 mile weeks over the last month so I was starting to build volume but hadn’t really pushed since the race in July, which I wasn’t ready for either. I don’t feel like I’ve been really fit since I went down to the L.A. Marathon in March. I might even have been in the best shape of my life there, but the hamstring didn’t allow me to prove it. 

Both loops end with a fun descent to the start/finish area. On this descent, however, there were two junctions where someone had tampered with the course markings. The laminated sheets of paper attached to wooden stakes in the ground had been pulled and tossed so they were facing down when I arrived at the junctions. Thankfully, the race director also placed a few small red flags down the appropriate trails that the vandal either didn’t notice or didn’t know were associated with the race. So note to RDs and course markers: in addition to bigger signs, a little bit of supplemental flagging at key junctions might save the day. I would’ve been screwed had they not utilized them here. 

I finish the first loop (8.7 miles) and see my small but mighty crew. I tell Nikki, “It feels like home” as I crack a second plastic mini water bottle. Another sin. I wasn’t sure if I could receive assistance outside the aid station so that’s why I didn’t grab my water from Nikki. Looking back, I probably should’ve verified this and just got water from Nikki instead of using the plastic. Next time! 

I ditch my Houdini jacket so I’m down to my long tights and the promiscuously fitted t-shirt. And boom, after not seeing third place since mile four, there he was as I left the aid station, maybe only 20 seconds back now. I hadn’t gained any ground. 

At this point in my running career though, I’m pretty confident that I can keep it together better than most on the 2nd half of most races. Just having ran a lot of miles over the last two decades and really knowing my body and breaking points, relative to other runners, I don’t tend to fade as much in the latter stages of races like maybe I used to. That only really still happens to me in 100 milers now. The 100 is a nut I’ve yet to crack. 

Getting into the second loop, covering terrain that we’d just ran an hour prior, I try to take advantage of the descents and open it up. I skip an aid station, I don’t stop to pee despite wanting to, and I hug corners and try to run the tangents well on the double track sections. I’m surprised at how good I feel. I get the sense that third place is not gaining on me; I don’t hear any footfalls. I take the spur trail for the summit loop and begin a long climb, motivated by new trails and terrain as I try to find a steady effort up the hill. 

The climb was about a 1,000 feet in 1.3 miles, so pretty solid. It oscillated between running and pretty obvious hiker grade but I made a game out of trying to “run” the whole thing. There were a few sections where I was probably running slower than I could’ve hiked but I thought the game was net-positive for my overall effort and pace. There were some cruel false summits towards the top but I mostly soaked in the 360 degree views. About half of the panorama was blanketed in dense clouds while the other half provided views of beautifully checkered, multi-colored farmland. I hit my second gel and prepare for the final descent, again thinking about how I wish I’d tied my shoes just a touch tighter. A quick glance over the shoulder showed a good quarter-mile of trail with no other runners in sight. I could enjoy the descent without worrying about getting caught. And that I did! Such a fun stretch. 

Before I knew it I could hear the race announcer at the base of Pisgah. I pulled up the buff, as I had been whenever within six feet of another human, and charged to the finish with the kids cheering at an almost embarrassing volume. A unique feature of the timing company (Eclectic Edge) is that they print out your individual results from a receipt machine right as you cross the line. 2nd place. 1h 56m 54s. 7:24 mile pace. I’m pretty happy with that on a course with 2,500 – 3,000 feet of climbing. Strava data here.

All in all, sure, I wish I was in better shape. The kind of shape where I could’ve at least gave the winner a run for his money to make things interesting. That said, I’m still chalking this one off as a huge win. I got a great workout, the race stoked the long-dormant competitive spirit and it left me motivated and excited for more. The next race is likely going to be the Bristow Trail Run 50k, which is put on by the same race company (Level 32 Racing), on February 6th. If I ride this wave and start integrating more intensity into my training, I might actually be in pretty good shape for that one. And then, if all proceeds according to plan, I’m still eyeing Badger Mountain 100 in late March before baby number three arrives in May. 

I hope you enjoyed this novel of a race report. It’s certainly longer than maybe a 25k race might deserve, but as with anything these days, I’m really leaning into anything positive that 2020 has to offer. It was a satisfying experience that really lifted my spirits and for that I’m grateful. That gratitude was only intensified when on our drive home we took highway 126 and saw for the first time the path of destruction left behind by the Holiday Farm Fire that burned over 170,000 acres a few months back. Home after home after home with nothing left standing but a bunch of chimneys. Definitely a lasting reminder to not take anything for granted. 

Shout out to my buddy Jim Ruckman for putting this race on my radar and motivating me to take a swing at it. It was also great to meet third place runner Eric Schumm who hung tough and kept me motivated the entire race. That giddy finish line vibe was strong and something I’ve really missed. So happy to have this experience and I can’t wait for more. Time to train.

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