What do you do when you are stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere for a week, and need to find a challenging run? Maybe I was on vacation with family and neighbors and not stranded, and we were just off the coast of Portland, Maine, but you get the picture. I decided to attempt to circumnavigate the island below the high tide line. The main reason was to ensure I did not cross onto private property and get shot, but the secondary rational was to obtain as much New England Knar as possible. I sure got plenty.

This trip was all centered around my wife, as most of our vacations are. She was doing the Casco Bay SwimRun with a friend of mine, Jim, and the whole event happened to be centered around Long Island, which is where our neighbors were going for summer vacation. We decided to join, and I was particularly excited since I had spent many summers on the Maine coast on vacation as a child. I would leave our hotel in the early morning and spend the entire day on the coast, exploring tide pools and scrambling up and down the shore. I have spent much time on the Maine coast for 30 years and was looking forward to introducing this unique environment to my boys. The timing worked out so that Steph had her race soon after we arrived and could then relax for the rest of the trip. They were unfortunately pulled from the race for missing the last cutoff after swimming 4 miles and running about 14 across a pile of different islands, but it was still a great experience for Steph and Jim, as well as Gav and me who chased them across some of the course.

I had been running and scrambling on the coast for a few days before I decided to try and circle the island. Some of that was scouting just to see if it was possible and/or safe, and it was also to prepare myself for the terrain. It would not be a long FKT, but that was actually worse, as I was trying to cover continuously gnarly terrain quickly. The island is only 2 miles long, and about a quarter mile wide, but the trip around the coast covers about 8 miles. As I spent more time on some of western sections, I was excited about trying to get all the way around, but there were sections I was very unsure if and how they would work out.

I was familiar with the first mile, which covered in couch side boulders with some dicey rock scrambling, and made relatively good time considering the terrain. There are extremely few places where you can relax and cruise on this coast, short sections of beach, and the rest is jumbles of brilliantly white rock that is quite hard and sharp high on the shore, with lower rocks covered by a green slime of death. It is often flatter towards the water, but the risk of slipping on the algae covered rocks is typically not worth it.

A couple of runnable beaches made the second mile the fastest of the day, a smoking 12:42. This was balanced by a challenging trip around a peninsula that was covered in eroded rocks that were especially jagged. Falling here would lead to substantial loss of blood. Even without falling, the small outcrops you had to traverse would be a nightmare for someone with even moderately weak ankles.

The third mile involved a bit of full on bouldering and some dicey low altitude ridge running. A fall would not be far, but the landings, not good. Really, a helmet would not be a bad idea on this type of run. The bouldering was followed by shallow bay crossing to stay off private property. While it was not incredibly warm during my run, I was entirely exposed to the sun, and the effort induced considerable heat production. I was happy to be able to dunk in the ocean while crossing the bay. This crossing was followed by another peninsula that was new to me. I had to decide between shallow water bouldering to traverse a sea cliff, or descend to the green slime and into the waves. I lucked out with mild waves, as a rough sea would have bounced me off some rather unkind looking boulders. While relieved to have made it around the sea cliffs, I was in for a treat as I attempted to cross the marsh that followed.  It looked tame, but was covered with leg snapping, knee deep gopher holes covered by long seagrass. I have no idea what kind of gopher digs holes in coastal marshes, but those things have got to be exterminated from the planet. Trying to cross that marsh, doing the coastal Maine Lambada, was like crossing a minefield. I was sweating bullets from sheer terror that I would fall into one and end up with an explosive compound fracture. There were a few hard falls, but I made it out with all bones intact. I have never been so excited to get back onto sharp, angular rocks, which I hugged.

The fourth and fifth miles were prime technical running, and housing, real estate. I still could not take a typical stride more than a few times a mile, but you could get into some sort of arm-flailing rhythm if you could relax, get into the zone, and read the matrix of wave induced destruction. There might even have been one or two times I was able to look out at the ocean. While some might think that looking out at the ocean is why you go to the Maine coast, I would agree, and I spent plenty of time doing that through the week. I also do derive just as much joy from picking lines through a field of fascinating boulders.

My fourth mile led to the flat rocks section of the island, and the fifth mile ran across this strange stretch where the rocks are level for more than 3 inches at a time. This resulted in a flying 13:30 mile. There were numerous sections where I was able to get some speed and cross rather questionable gaps between car or house-sized boulders. Luckily my legs still had enough pop. Coming up short on these gaps would have been rather ugly for me and any onlookers. The few days of practice on the shore with Gavin were key to determining what was feasible and what was more hospital inducing. This mile also had some short beaches, to give the legs a break, as running on sand is so relaxing. My hips love it.

I turned onto much flatter terrain for the sixth mile, but that was just because there were either sea cliffs where you were on private property if you ran across the top, or an intertidal zone that was completely covered by sea weed for as far as I could see. I thought my front teeth were done for, and seriously considered bailing, as expected one fall after another. I used to crawl over this stuff as a kid, as walking always seemed impossible. This was surely going to be as bad as the gopher hole marsh of doom. To my surprise, since the terrain was more level, with smaller rocks, I was able to run across the seaweed with slipping into a TBI. Starting slowly, I gradually increased my pace to something that was still dirt slow, but which I would have thought was not possible. I had to place every step with incredible care, and there were a number of close calls, but I ran across what had to be almost a mile of seaweed.

The seventh mile toured the boat yards and ferry docks. I did run through the ferry parking lot, as the staff did not seem keen on me running through the docks and the rocks were covered in thorns. The boat yard staff seem thoroughly confused by someone running along the shore. They were convinced that I had lost my boat, if you know what I mean.

By this point, my legs were really feeling the effort. The last three quarters of a mile started with the longest stretch of beach beyond Ponce Landing, which led into some of the best bouldering on the island. Both my arms and legs were exhausted, with my hands already cut up from all the inclusions in the boulders. This made the last few traverses (surely at least 5.14) extra exciting, with shaky calves and weak grip. It was definitely helpful that I had been over this section with Gavin, as finding a good line is not always obvious. I stopped my watch at 1:56:45, which was under my estimate and goal of 2 hours, and soaked in the ice cold ocean before heading back to the house for lobster, with all my teeth and limbs intact! Not a bad day!

A key part of this FKT and my coastal running throughout the trip were my Salomon S/LAB XA Amphibs. I must have spent 3-4 hours a day on rocks, sand, or in the water in my Amphibs. The grip, fit, protection, flexibility, and drainage were absolutely perfect for this terrain. You need protection from sharp edges and small rocks, but enough flexibility for severe off camber foot placements, a few thousand of them. Although they are incredibly light, there is plenty of midsole to take big hits from high drops. The rubber and tread was a great match for both the boulders and the sand, and the Amphibs shed water and dry out in seconds. I was most impressed by the durability of the upper, which withstood severe abuse throughout our vacation from the abrasive rocks and sand. It still looks like new.

While it may seem hard to believe, this was the most thrilling and intense short FKT I have done. The intensity of trying to cross that type of sustained terrain quickly can only compare with sections of the Northern Presidentials and similar knar, and most of it was more challenging than that. If you are someone that falls often, or falls and hits your face on the ground, do not even think about this type of run. A helmet would not bad all that crazy of an idea for this type of FKT attempt. If you have any ankle issues, this is not going to work. Having said that, there are many runners who would greatly enjoy this type of challenge, and I could see FKT’s on many of the Maine coastal islands which would be a great opportunity to experience incredible technical running when you can’t get to the trails or mountains. 

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