The Swanzey Covered Bridges Half: Elijah’s Race

If you Google Elijah Barrett, you’ll find a number of individuals with this name:

1. the second principal of Maryland State Normal School (now Towson University), who lived in the late 1800’s,

2. Various authors who may or may not be the same person

3. An exceptional athlete from the Monadnock region of New Hampshire.

It is about this third individual that I write about today. “Why?” you may ask: Because on Sunday September 2, 2007, I ran the quintessential small New England Half Marathon, and it was Elijah Barrett’s brainchild.

His race, the Swanzey Covered Bridges Half Marathon (SCBHM), was similar to the CHaD Half I attempted the previous week and the Covered Bridges Half (in Vermont) I’d done in the Spring, and yet it was their polar opposite. In the end, about the same number of runners completed both NH races, although by setting the SCBHM one week later, the runners were guaranteed typical New England fall weather: dry, sunny, crisp (the CHaD offered the worst race conditions I’d ever experienced, the CBHM was warm and humid).

Both New Hampshire races offered an after race bar-b-que, but the SCBHM’s fresh market produce and baked goods seemed to have just been delivered from the many farmstands I passed on the way home. By comparison, the Vermont CBHM offers bananas, bagels and cookies.

All of these races offer a combination of flat and rolling terrain, but the SCBHM provides a nice warm up in the front and mild hills toward the end (which is my preference). The SCBHM is similar to the Vermont CBHM in terms of beautiful scenery along the race route and the combination of asphalt vs. packed dirt surfaces. However, unlike the SCBHM, you actually run THROUGH four Covered Bridges (in Vermont you only run through one and you pass the other two).

But the thing I liked the most about the SCBHM (besides the free hot showers), is that it felt as if a community had enthusiastically come together to make it happen, something I didn’t get from the other two races. The Vermont CBHM is so successful (they fill up in a week or less), that its organizers have a real “take it or leave it” attitude towards the runners. The CHaD is a larger production with a mission: to raise funds for the Children’s Hospital at Dartmouth and it feels big even though it’s not. The SCBHM is a real community labor of love.

As I checked into the race, I noted Elijah’s photo prominently posted but didn’t see him around anywhere. I decided to speak to him after the race to get some details for the blog. In the meantime I was happy to get through the number and chip pick up process quickly so that I could warm up.

For this race, I had printed a small table of the splits I wanted to attain and the total time I should accumulate at each mile. I jogged to the starting line and stretched with the other runners, chatting as I usually do. When the starting signal came, I ran with a deliberate and measured tempo towards the first bridge, which came up in the first mile.

Almost immediately, we took a turn unto a wooded trail, which was a nice touch. It was quiet except for the inevitable chatter of the female runners (who they’d seen over the weekend, something about someone passing away, complaints about family members, etc.) and the pat pat pat of shoes on dirt. I usually get annoyed of the chatter, but today I ignored it.

After mile 1, I was over 50 seconds ahead of my target and at mile 2, I was a minute ahead of my target so I decided to slow things down a bit to conserve my energy. But by mile 3, I was a minute and 10 seconds ahead…and I didn’t really feel it in my wind or my legs. It was as if the course pulled me forward.

It was all so easy, that I started chatting with the other runners. At first it was a passing comment, then a longer exchange. At one point, one of the other runners, a woman named Marianne told me she was going to stay close to me since we seemed to be running the same pace.

We started talking about the weather, the races we’d done and were planning to do, where we were from, etc. and others around us joined in. I kept glancing at my Garmin watch ensuring that I stayed on top of my goals and amazingly, I reached mile 6 still 30 seconds ahead of the time where I wanted to be. (For those of you that don’t run, 30 seconds is a comfortable amount of time.) Most importantly, I felt great.

At mile 7, I had planned to pick up the pace to a 9:15 mile, so I let Marianne know and told her to look for me at the end so we could take a photo for the blog. She had been saying that she ran more at a 10:00 minute pace, so I figured my faster pace would be too much for her. It was right about here that I started to feel blister forming on the arch of my foot, but they didn’t feel too bad.

When I finished mile 9, I had lost some ground and was only 7 seconds ahead of my desired target. I was now entering the crucial part of the race. Historically, miles 10-13 are the absolute toughest for me. These are where my resolve starts to dissolve and I get cement legs and sticky feet.

Unfortunately, although the race was billed to not have more than a one-hundred mile incline at any point, from mile 7 on there were ascents of over 200 feet every mile (and almost equal descents except for miles 12 and 13, according to my Garmin watch). This takes a lot of energy out of a runner…especially one that hasn’t sufficiently trained.

I particularly remember having difficulty starting at mile 10, where there was a 222 ft ascent and a 269 foot descent. I lost 2 minutes this mile and I never made it up….this is how my total time became 2:07 and change (2:08+ officially, but I think they were off because the chip timing didn’t actually account for when you crossed the starting line). My goal had been 2:05 for this race.

The blisters that started to get my attention at mile 7 were now screaming at me “Stop you fool! We’re going to take it out on you if you don’t!”. But they didn’t pop this time, so I didn’t stop. Instead, I leaned into each step, lengthening my strides as much as possible.

I finished the race at the same location where I picked up my number and again saw the photo of Elijah. I wanted to speak to him, but I first had to take my shoes off to let my dogs breathe and to see how bad the blisters that had formed were. To my surprise, they were a lot bigger than they felt (click here to see them if you don’t have a weak constitution; don’t expect pedicured Metrosexual feet. These are runner’s feet.)

As I sat on the ground studying the source of my foot pain, I heard the voice of Marianne behind me. I didn’t know it right then, but she had finished just a minute or two behind me in terms of total pace. As I remember her “normal pace” was 10:00, she had really booked on this race. If I’d known I’d have congratulated her but she slipped away and I didn’t get to say goodbye.

Now that I was not focused on my pain anymore, I was ready to meet the man who had made this great race possible. I walked around looking for him and couldn’t find him, so I asked one of the race volunteers where he’d be.

To my shock, I found out that after several months of aggressive chemotherapy treatment, Elijah Barrett had passed away the previous weekend at 31 years old. I didn’t know what to say. I looked around at the athletes celebrating record times and a beautiful day, at the volunteers dutifully performing their functions, at a community that had come together to make the event take place flawlessly, and tried to make sense of it.

I spoke to the Race Co-Director (Elijah had been the other Director) who told me that Elijah had only learned his diagnosis about 8 months ago and that it had been a complete surprise. Elijah had been the healthiest person in the Monadnock region. He was a track star in high school setting many records (including the 440 record which he later coached the students to try and beat – they didn’t). He was the Monadnock (Male) Athlete of the Year in 93/94. He won or placed in all kinds of races, from the Elm City Triathlon in 2003 to a 5k race to the Mt. Pisgah 50K.

If you want to read about his accomplishments, you can Google “Elijah Barrett Race” and there you’ll see a smattering. A more fitting tribute is found in the homage written in his sister’s hometown paper. .

I can’t claim to have known Elijah, but I certainly left this race wanting to know him better and to thank him for his dedication to the sport. Based on what I’ve read, I think Elijah was a real hometown man and since I enjoyed his hometown so much, I feel like I would have gotten on with him quite well. I’m certain that 360 other people who took part in his race on September 2 would concur.