Race # 30 - Leatherwood Mountain Ultra Run 50 Miler

photo courtesy of http://www.lwmtnultrarun.com/

Leatherwood Mountain Ultra Run 50 Miler
4/20/13
7:00 AM
Ferguson, NC
Time: 10:52:11
Place: 11th out of 63 finishers (77 starters)


If you were to look up the word "brutal" in the dictionary, this is what you would find:

Brutal - bru·tal
adjective
1.  savage; cruel
2.  crude; coarse
3.  harsh; ferocious
4.  taxing, demanding, or exhausting
5.  irrational; unreasoning

I also think you could amend this on the end:

6.  Leatherwood Mountain Ultra Run 50 Miler

Leatherwood was my last major long run before my first attempt at 100 miles, the Massanutten Mountain Trails 100.  I was looking forward to Leatherwood.  The race directors, Mark Connolly and Tim Worden, had kept all the runners updated on race and trail status' in the months and days leading up to the race, which really got me excited.  

The inaugural edition of this race was billed as majority single track trails, with over 10,000 ft. of elevation gain.  The elevation was also a benefit for me, given what I would be undertaking a month after this race.  It consisted of three different loops, all of which the 50 milers would run.  The loops were said to be 25, 15, and 10 miles in distance, finishing each loop at the Start/Finish area.  In addition to the 50 mile race, there were also 50k and 10 mile races that utilized part of the aforementioned loops.

At 7am, with the sun beginning to rise with around 40 degree temps, we heard a great rendition of the national anthem, and were off on our way for an all day adventure.  The first loop was 'yellow', and each runner was given a yellow wristband to remind us to follow the yellow markers.  At times this would prove to be tricky as the rising sun and new foliage on the trees caused the markers to seem camouflaged.  

We headed out the main resort road for a little over a mile and then followed a gravel road, where we went up, up, and up.  Once we reached the summit, we hit some single track trail, and then headed down a steep descent.  This would sort of be the theme for the day.  

A substantial amount of rainfall fell on the race course Friday before race day.  This would give the runners an added element to deal with, as many of the ascents and descents were drenched in thick, slick mud.  We were sure to watch every step, sometimes sliding several feet before we were able to set our feet on ground that was stable.  As muddy as the trail conditions were, I'd consider us lucky that at least it wasn't raining during the run.  That would have made for a totally different race.  

We had a ten mile stretch that proved to be the hardest part of the entire course.  If we weren't going up, we were going down, and I will reiterate, these were very challenging steep hills.  A little after eight miles in, we were following a road section, but a large group of runners in front of me missed the turn onto the trail.  Luckily I was standing right at the marker, and avoided the 'extra mileage' from getting lost.  This was another case of the sun and leaves causing the yellow markers to be difficult to see.  After a long downhill, we came out of the woods and onto a road, that lead to the first fully stocked aid station, about 13 miles in to the race.

Once we left the aid station, we had a 2.5 mile stretch of paved road, and 1.5 miles of gravel road that were all gentle uphill.  It was nice to have a break from the steep climbs and descents, but I was glad to finally get back on some trails after those miles.  These road sections were also in direct sun, which was another positive for getting back on trail.  A little over 17 miles in, we were greeted with three refreshing creek crossings, and briefly, I had some clean shoes.  


As I headed into the final miles of the first loop, I was greeted with another long and steep climb that lasted almost three miles.  Once I reached the summit, it was downhill back to the start/finish line, where I would be halfway through the race.  I caught up with another runner and we ran together for this last bit.  We began talking, and he informed me he was in third place, until he took a wrong turn.  He was unable to find a marker, and went down a trail that wasn't part of the course, costing him valuable time.  Once he realized this and made his way back to the correct trail, he had lost his position, and mentally, he was done.  Ultrarunning is such a mental sport, and any miscalculations or wasted mental energy can really cost you later in the race, especially a race of 50 or more miles.  I ended up seeing him at the end of the race and found out that he DNF'd due to some knee issues he encountered later in the race.

I arrived at the start/finish line completing the first loop in around 4h40m, swapped out my handheld for a new one and quickly consumed some calories before heading out for the second loop.  It was getting to be midday so the sun was right overhead, but thankfully it wasn't too hot.  The second loop started with a steep climb almost a mile long.  This loop was holding true to the rest of the course I had already covered, in the fact that there were more hills to enjoy.

After the race, the director informed me that the second loop was the 'easiest' of the three.  It sure didn't seem that way when I started it.  Straight out of the aid station, we climbed up almost a full mile.  Soon after though, I encountered a much needed runnable downhill section.  It slowly became evident that this loop was in fact easier than the first loop.  While there were still numerous uphills, they weren't as steep or long as they were on the first loop.  One may even consider them runnable, but with half the race remaining, I chose not to.

This loop was unique in the fact that one part was a short out and back.  As I came out of one section, I took a left and passed another runner going in the opposite direction.  He passed me on the first loop, so I knew he was a few miles ahead of me.  I only wondered how far this out and back would end up being.  It was around this time I passed another runner only to soon start playing leapfrog with her the remainder of the race.

As we made our way up this mountain, we came to several openings where there would be this random small grassy field.  For some reason, when I saw this, I had the urge to just lay down and stare at the sky.  Had I not had anything else to do the rest of they day, I probably would have.  As we arrived at another of these grassy patches, there was a plate stapled to a stake on the opposite side.  My leapfrog runner had already made the turn and as we passed by one another, I gave her one of these "Are you serious?" comments.  The plate had written on it "Turn around and go back the way you came".  This is the one of the many things I love about this sport, and the second time I had encountered it.  The first was at UROC, my first 100k.  It's all about the honor system.  Sure they could have a volunteer out here in the middle of nowhere checking off bib numbers making sure everyone actually came to this turnaround point.  But sometimes there's no point.  If one knew all that was there was a plate with written instructions telling you to turn around, it could be tempting to cheat.  But in this sport, you'd only be cheating yourself.  Similar to golf, it's about integrity.  

After completing the turnaround, we headed back to the Raw Hide aid station where I had some  Coke, potato chips, and gummy bears.  After leaving Raw Hide, it was a couple of miles, mostly downhill, back to the start/finish area to complete the second loop.  The downhills were very steep to end this loop, and I noticed in addition to the pink markers for loop two, there were also orange markers, signifying this would be the trail we would run for loop three.  I guess you could say what goes down must come back up.

I arrived at the start/finish area, refilled my bottles, grabbed some food quickly, and headed back out.  Only 10 miles to go.  It was early evening, and I was pretty sure I would finish long before dark, but I grabbed my headlamp anyway, just to be safe.  As I headed down the road back to the trail I just came off, a girl asked if she could run with me.  I told her yes but I didn't know how much I'd be running.  Turns out she was planning to run the 50 miler, but an injury kept her out.  She was still nice enough to volunteer for the day and wanted to run the final 10 mile loop.  It was nice to have some company as I had ran alone most of the day, just like I always do in training.  I told her about the course, but eventually my enthusiasm to talk about the day wore off and I was silent again.  We soon caught up with my leapfrog friend and she actually started running with her and I was back by myself again, just me and the trail. 

After over two miles of climbing, I began running one of the final downhills of the day.  Some of these final climbs and descents were fairly steep, but I'm sure the RD's wanted us to leave Leatherwood remembering exactly what it was like.  I was in no hurry whatsoever, so I walked a good bit.  I knew I would finish under 12 hours, which was a huge accomplishment for me, even though I had no goals coming into this races aside from having a good long training run for MMT100.  

Eventually I came back in to the Raw Hide aid station one final time.  Another runner came in shortly after myself, and we set out together for the last few miles to the finish.  We talked about the day, the race, and the course.  He had a friend who ran and he said his quads were shot halfway through the race.  That was one thing that never even came into play for me and I'm very thankful for that.  My legs felt great.  Aside from the normal fatigue, I had no major soreness or anything.  

He sped off ahead of me, and again, I was alone.  Another reason I enjoyed my solitude on the trails was because it made me pay attention.  When you're following a group of people, you don't necessarily pay attention to course markings, and this can sometimes get you in trouble.  I was making sure I was seeing orange markers, and making the correct turns on the correct trails.  There were two spots where the 50 mile runners went one way, and the 50k runners went another.  Don't pay attention, and you could go the wrong way.  But luckily for me, I made it the entire day without making a single wrong turn.

I eventually came off the trails, and was on the road section leading back to the start/finish area for the final time.  Not only was I going sub-12 hours on this race, I was also flirting with sub-11. I was unsure how much road there was, and I didn't want to go all out and run as fast as I could to end the day and risk injuring myself, so I just took it easy.  That is, until I got to familiar territory and knew that I was close to the finish.  I turned the last mile into a progression run.  By the time I was arriving at the finish area, I was running about a sub 8 minute pace.  I felt great.  The crowd cheering for me was awesome, but only made me miss my wife and daughter even more.  

I crossed the finish line finishing in 10:52:11, which was good enough for 11th place overall out of 63 finishers.  Afterwards, I stayed around for a little while and watched others come in with the crowd cheering.  I ended up seeing my 'leapfrog' friend and the guy I started the last section with both come in after me.  I assume they made a wrong turn somewhere along the way, like many others did throughout the day.

After finishing, I got to talk to Charlie Engle.  While Charlie 'lived' in West Virginia for a while, we shared letters with each other talking about life, family, and of course, running.  Charlie was a real inspiration for me as I was first learning about this thing called 'Ultrarunning'.  I saw his movie, "Running the Sahara" and that just lit the fire even more.  I look forward to the next time he and I get to share some trail with each other, although I'll be far behind him I'm sure.

Charlie and I after the race

It was a great day.  I made some new friends, ran some awesome trails, and finished in time to head home and see my daughter, Gemma, before she went to bed.  Thanks again to the race directors for putting on a great event!

Garmin Data

Elevation Profile:

Race # 29 - Lapper's Delight 24 hour Endurance Run

Lapper's Delight 24 hour Endurance Run
3/9/13
9:00 AM
Pinnacle, NC
Official Distance:  56 laps / 84 miles
Garmin Distance:  85.7 miles with ~10,135 ft. of elevation gain
Time: 24:00:00
Place: 3rd out of 18 finishers

When a friend asked me if I was doing Lapper's Delight back in January, I had no idea what he was talking about.  A quick search and I had found a race that fit perfectly in my training schedule for the Massanutten 100.  Just over two months out, this would end up providing so much experience for MMT100.  

I was able to convince Summer to let me do this race quite easily.  It would give me the opportunity to be up and moving for 24 hours, as well as some experience running from sunset into darkness, through the night, and most importantly, into the sunrise and a new day.  All of this (and more) will be in store for me at MMT100.  

The race was held at Jomeokee Campground in Pinnacle, NC.  Pilot Mountain sits in the background so we had great scenery.  The course was a 1.5 mile trail loop that was mowed down grass.  We would soon wear down a path with all the laps we'd put in.  Each lap was said to have 150 ft. of elevation gain, essentially 100 feet per mile.  In trail running terms, this is 'flat'.  Compared to some courses I've ran, it was.  But the hills it did have, were deceiving enough to make us all pay come night time.  

There was an individual race, as well as team relays.  It was always easy to identify who was doing what.  The relay team members were always running fast while the rest of us slowed considerably as the day turned in to night.  Runners could come and go as you pleased.  We could sleep.  Stop.  Eat.  Go home.  Whatever.  Not me though.  I was there for the full time.  

Gemma and I before the race

Summer, Gemma and I all headed out to the course early Saturday morning so I could get set up with my drop bag and catch the prerace briefing.  I met Jon there, who will end up being my pacer for MMT100.   He is a local ultrarunner that I've seen at a few races.  We ran UROC together and finished within seconds of each other.  Jon is one of the nicest people I've ever met and a very experienced endurance athlete.  

No worries about exceeding this speed limit!

The War Board

As we prepared for the start, I was excited.  One of those 'I get to run ALL DAY' feelings.  Most people would call this crazy.  I can see why.  Endurance athletes are a rare breed and ultrarunning is a sport that is extremely hard to master.  Even the best in the sport can have an off day.  It's like any other sport.  You have good days, and bad days.  Every race and every course is different.  You will hit highs and you will hit lows.  What you have to figure out is how to dig out of the depths of the lows and how to ride the highs as long as you can.  Failure to do this can result in the always dreaded DNF.

Jon and I starting our day (photo courtesy Phil Ponder)

At 9am, we lined up and took off on a day of adventure.  Jon and I took off with the rest of the group and began chatting away.  The first mile consisted of a gentle up, followed by an easy down, then another gentle up, a short flat, a long gentle up, and then a sort of flat/up.  The last half mile was mostly downhill and then uphill to the finish.  At first, no one wanted to walk the uphills and it was easy to see why.  They weren't huge hills.  They were very runnable.  But in a 24 hour race, everyone would soon have to swallow their pride and walk unless they wanted to be sitting on the sidelines when it came nightfall.  

Beautiful scenery (photo courtesy Phil Ponder)

The first few hours were great.  We were blessed with a wonderful weather forecast of sunshine and low 60's for the high and mid 30's for the lows that night.  Soon I had ditched the long sleeve shirt and gloves and was in my traditional shorts attire.  After a few laps, Jon and I separated and ran our own pace.  We both train alone mostly so this was no surprise.  We both had different goals, but with a 1.5 mile loop course, we would see each other often throughout the race.

(photo courtesy Phil Ponder)

 (photo courtesy Phil Ponder)

My strategy was simple.  Keep moving.  Do whatever I can to be out there for 24 hours covering ground.  The distance of the loop course was great.  At first I was running 16-18 minute laps.  It felt comfortable, so that's what I ran.  At the end of each loop, I passed by the aid station and either ate some of the supplied food or stopped by my personal drop bag and got something from it.  I took some good advice from a very knowledgeable ultrarunner and instead of going with gels at the beginning, I went with real food as long as I could until late in the day/night where I started going for the easy/liquid calories.  This was a perfect routine.

Coming through the start/finish line, early in the race

Pretzels, bananas, oranges, peanut butter.  That was breakfast.  I bet I ate at least a dozen bananas throughout the course of the event.  I tried to stay hydrated as the temps started to go up.  I alternated carrying a handheld of water and a handheld of accelerade.  I made routine bathroom breaks in the woods until around 12-1:00 pm. It was then I couldn't remember the last time I went.  I started to think I was getting dehydrated so I increased fluids.  At 2:34 pm I was back on schedule.  But soon thereafter, I hit a low point.  

I hit the marathon mark in 5:02.  Probably a little fast for a 24 hour race.  Once I hit the 6 hour mark though, fatigue was settling in on my legs.  This aggravated me.  Here I was with 18 hours remaining and I'm tired.  I was extremely discouraged.  I thought about MMT100 a lot during this race and I just kept questioning myself.  "If you're this tired after 6 hours, how are you going to do a race that could take up to 36 hours with tons of more elevation???"  Thoughts like this rummaged through my head.  I was honestly ready to quit, go home, withdraw my name from the MMT100 entrant list, and not run for a while.  It was that serious.  But I spent so much time questioning myself that eventually, I started feeling better.  That's how it goes in this crazy sport.  Keep moving forward and eventually, you'll get out of the depths.

The gentle uphill that was so tempting to run

I reached the 50k mark in 6:16 and was coming out of the low points.  The next six hours  actually went pretty well.  Daytime soon converted to night and I was walking and running at decent paces.  By this point I had made enough laps that I was in a rhythm and knew when to walk and when to run on the course.  I felt good and was hoping that the second half would be good to me and maybe, just maybe, I could hit 100 miles.  This was not my intention going in.  I wanted to get to 80 miles but more importantly, be there the entire 24 hours and moving forward as much as possible.  

Pilot Mountain

The sun had set, and night was upon us.  Pilot Mountain in the distance

Once it was dark, I felt great.  I was still moving at a good pace, and I felt confident about the near future.  Summer came back out to support me and I was grateful for that.  My 50 mile split was 11:11 and at the 12 hour mark I had covered 53.33 miles.  I was nearing my personal best for time on feet which was the 14:36 that I achieved at UROC last year.  As the clock drew closer to midnight, fatigue really started to set in.  My legs hurt.  My feet were starting to hurt.  And I was getting discouraged.  I wore the same Hoka Stinson B's I've wore for each of my last handful of races.  I've never had any issues and never even thought about changing shoes in those races.  So I didn't understand why my feet were hurting so bad.  It was the beginning of another low point and not exactly the best time for that to happen.  
I was walking a lot at this point and there were points on the course that seemed to be much colder than others.  I came into the start/finish area and stopped for a few minutes to eat and drink.  Summer convinced me to put on my tights and that was a great move.  I don't know if it was the warmth or the compression that helped by my legs felt a little better.  I was still in the dumps though.  The thought of eight more hours walking in circles in the dark and cold was, in my own words, 'stupid'.  Why would I want to do that.  I could be in a warm bed with my family, but instead I'm out here suffering through something I signed up and paid money for.  

Since I was walking, Summer said she would walk a lap with me.  So we headed out into the cold together.  I don't remember what we talked about.  I'm sure I complained, and I'm sure that she kept being positive, as she always is, and kept telling me that I was going to be fine and reminding me what I would feel like the following day if I did quit.  I do remember telling her one thing.  In any other race, there is always motivation there for continuing to move forward.  Every step you take, or the faster you run, the closer you are getting to the finish line.  Not here.  Not tonight.  In a 24 hour race, it doesn't matter how fast you run or how slow you walk, the finish line does not get any closer.  You can't speed up time.  You just have to endure.  That was a tough pill to swallow.

After we completed the lap, I headed out again by myself.  I decided to check the score of the Duke/UNC game.  I was hoping it would provide a lift.  It did when I noticed Duke won by 16 points.  I got a short burst of energy and started running.  It didn't last long and I was back to walking.  Once I completed that lap, it was midnight and I told Summer to go home and get some rest.  At this point, it was up to me to get through the night.

The minutes kept ticking by, and I kept telling myself how long it was until daylight, trying to stay positive.  I was getting really cold since I was mostly walking.  Running the downhills hurt not only the legs but my feet.  I don't know if the ground was frozen that and contributed to it more or what.  

As time neared 2 AM, I pulled out my phone to watch the Daylight Savings Time change.  I had always wondered what really happens at that moment.  My assumption was right.  At 1:59 AM, the clocks then automatically change to 3 AM.  That was the highlight of the night.  Pretty lame huh?

At 4 AM, I started to sway back and forth and my eyes were starting to close as I became very sleepy.  It hadn't hit me until then.  I felt like a zombie.  While earlier in the race I was completing laps in ~20 minutes, it seemed like they were now taking twice as long.  I decided I was going to finish the lap and then I would stop and sit by the camp fire for a little while and try to gather myself.  Up until this point, I had stayed on top of nutrition.  Just like early in the race, I was eating and drinking each time I passed through the start finish line.  That wasn't enough to keep me going and so I parked in front of the camp fire somewhere around 5 AM. 

I sat and talked to the race director, Glenn, and his wife Sheryl, as well as a few other runners who were taking a break.  I explained my story to them about how bad I felt and how I just didn't know if I could continue.  Glenn told me to take a break and wait for daylight as that may change how I felt.  I dozed off for a few minutes but never fell asleep.  I didn't have a tent, or a sleeping bag, or a car.  I couldn't quit.  So I just sat there.  Waiting.  Watching the clock.  

Sometime after 6 AM I decided to change shoes and see if that would make any difference.  Of course, they felt frozen when I picked them up so I took them to the campfire and tried to warm them up before putting them on.  Once I got them on, it was around 6:40, and the sky was just starting to get light in the east.  I stood up, and headed out on another lap.

The break that I took did some good.  My legs felt a little better, but not my feet.  I was now wearing a new pair of La Sportiva Electrons that only had 20 miles on them from the previous weekend.  The change in cushion from the Hokas was hard to get used to at first.  But I started to change mentally.  I just kept telling myself to keep moving.  Every step I took, while it didn't get me closer to the finish line, it did get me closer to the sun coming up.  That would mean warmth and hopefully a change in how my body felt.

As the minutes ticked by, and it became lighter, I started to run a little bit more.  My legs hurt running the downhills at first so I walked them.  But then I ran the uphills because it didn't hurt as bad.  Strange how that works.  Eventually, I was running a good bit.  One lap.  Then two laps.  I was getting stronger.  I was rebounding.  Four laps in to this last segment, I was feeling great.  I was running almost the entire lap.  I couldn't help but peak at the leaderboard when I passed by.  By my calculations, which could have been wrong because at this point I wasn't calculating much of anything properly in my head, I was in a battle for third.  Most runners were out on the course covering miles at this point so I had to keep going.  The leader was walking laps with his wife (no one was going to catch him).  I didn't even know who was in second place but I knew I couldn't catch him.  But I did know that I was flirting with either a 3rd or 4th place finish and if I just kept going, I may end up on the podium.  At the end of the day (literally and figuratively), I know I didn't enter this race to compete.  I entered it for the experience.  But we're all runners and we're all competitive to a certain degree so of course I wanted to finish strong.

Taken at the bottom of the long hill.  The sun had yet to light this part of the course but the thin clouds were burning pink and orange.

My Dad had arrived by this point to see me finish.  It was great to see a familiar face and get some encouragement.  I had surpassed the 50 lap mark which mean I was officially over 75 miles.  Even though it wasn't set in stone, my mental goal for the race was at least 80 miles.  I was nearing that, but I wanted more.  After 52 laps, I told my Dad I would do two more.  After the first, I just said might as well do an additional and get to an even 55 laps.  But with each lap, I was running stronger and stronger.  Sheryl, the RD's wife, was out walking a lap in the early morning sunshine and I passed her as I started the long downhill and she shouted encouragement to me remarking how great I looked.  I just yelled back to her "I have no idea how I'm doing this".  I remember looking down at times and I was running 12-ish minute miles.  No that's not fast, but after 23 hours, it's pretty darn good in my book.  I think I even squeezed out a sub-12 minute mile somewhere in there too.

Once I finished my 55th lap, there was somewhere around 25 minutes left.  Summer and Gemma had arrived to see me finish and I had time for one more lap, but not two.  I told Summer "one more" and then I would stop.  

I took this last lap to reflect.  Reflect on what I was accomplishing.  On where I came from throughout the last 24 hours.  I had reached depths I'd never been to.  At UROC, I experienced some lows, but nothing like today.  I thanked God for getting me through this and for my family being so supportive of me doing such a stupid thing.  I slowed down to take a look at the sun beaming on the front of Pilot Mountain.  I was just in awe at how beautiful the morning was.  As a trail runner, I get to see sights that not many people do.  My favorite being the sun peaking over the horizon at the beginning of a new day.  That's when I feel alive.  Today I felt extra-alive.

As I headed into the final downhill, the numbers finally hit me.  I was descending this hill for the 56th time.  That's pretty.......ridiculous?  Stupid?  Crazy?  Awesome?  Yes.  Yes it is.  But I had made it.  No I didn't keep moving for the full 24 hours.  But I learned that sometimes, things happen that prevent that sort of thing.  This was a training run, not a goal race.  I ran a 60-mile week the week before so I wasn't as fresh as I will be for MMT100.  Who cares that I had to sit down for over an hour?  I may have to do that at MMT.  It's all a learning experience, and I'm still a noob when it comes to ultrarunning but I'm learning more and more with each long run and race I complete.

I ran the entire last lap.  As I came in to the finish line, Summer was there with Gemma and once again, I grabbed her and carried her across the finish line with me.  There was 10 minutes left, but I was done.  

Final Results!

I had completed 56 laps, officially 84 miles, in 24 hours.  My Garmin said 85.7 miles.  I'll compromise and call it 85 miles for simplicity purposes.  The 56 laps was enough for 3rd place. 

Garmin data after the race

We stayed for a little while and watched the final runners finish their laps and then gathered around for the awards.  Everyone there at that moment received a finisher medal.  If you weren't there, you didn't finish.  And by this point, Glenn knew just about everyone by name and presented us with the medal.  The winner completed 67 laps for 100.5 miles.  Second place completed 60 laps for 90 miles.  And I came in third with 56 laps for 84 miles.  

Finisher's medal

Gemma always enjoys my medals

3rd Place Award

Jon and I with our awards.  He got first place Master's division.

After the race, I had numerous thoughts going through my head.  While I was pleased with my accomplishment, I knew what it took to get there.  Massanutten is going to be hard.  And it's going to take every single bit of mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional energy I have to make it through that race.  But I believe I can do it, and that's what it takes.  

Race # 28 - Pilot Mountain Payback 2013

Pilot Mountain Payback Trail Marathon
2/16/13
9:00 AM
Pinnacle, NC
Time: 3:56:58
Place: 8th out of 80 finishers

This year I ran my third Pilot Mountain Payback.  I love everything about this race.  It was my first marathon in 2011.  I get to train on the course every weekend.  It has great scenery.  I just love it.  Abran Moore is a great race director and he'll have me coming back year after year.

After running a 4:01:53 last year, I was determined to go sub-4 hour this year.  But the lack of training in December made me second guess whether or not I would be able to sustain the pace needed to run it in that amount of time.  Only one way to find out though.  I have been doing all of my long runs without food recently, in an effort to train my body to burn fat economically and not rely on consuming so many calories to keep the fire going.  Since doing this, my plan was to not stop at the aid stations during the race.  I would be carrying two handhelds; one with water and the other with Accelerade.  Summer was going to meet me at the summit and swap out my Accelerade bottle with a fresh one for the second half of the course and give me an Ensure to drink.  This would be the only calories I would have the entire race in an effort to minimize time at the aid station and run the fastest race I could.

Going into the race I thought about how it was going to be tough to meet my goal.  I knew that the second half of the race was going to be a test.  But I vowed to kill multiple birds with one stone.  Since I knew the fatigued feeling would definitely set in late in the race, it would give me an opportunity to work on the mental side of things.  In long distance running, eventually your body will begin to say no and at that point, you have to overcome and mentally push through.  This will be the name of the game in May when I attempt my first 100 miler, the Massanutten 100.  Back to today though.

The traditional 9am start usually allots for the sun to come up and provide some warmth on a February day.  The last two years we were graced with perfect weather including sun and temps nearing 60.  This year, not so lucky.  Forecast was mid-30's at the start and 50-60% chance of rain/snow throughout the day.  The temperatures were not expected to exceed 37°.  And with the rain we had the week leading up to the race, the creek crossings wouldn't be avoidable.

As the start drew near, I decided I was going to get in the front.  Last year I failed to do so and when we hit the single track trail, I was bobbing and weaving trying to get around other runners so I could run my own pace.  So I lined up at the start line, and we were off.

There is a creek crossing 30 feet from the start line so no use in trying to avoid getting wet.  There's also a long gravel road hill that we have to climb.  As usual, I got caught up in the 'race' atmosphere and took off like a banshee.  Soon I was passed though but not by too many folks.  Then we finally hit the single track and I was getting into my groove.  At the end of this short single track trail we hit the gravel road that leads into the park entrance.  There are two more creek crossings before we hit the 6 mile corridor trail that takes us to the base of Pilot Mountain.  

For the first two miles, I notice I'm running sub-9 minutes on each.  I had set my Garmin's virtual race partner to 10:15 per mile pace which is what I needed to equal to run a sub-4 hour race (yes for you math geeks, the course is a little short....the elevation makes up for it though).  I did learn this year though, that the first race, in 2010, the course was a full marathon's distance.  But the summer after it, the made changes to one of the trails and those changes ended up making the course a little short.  I knew I couldn't hold this pace though.  I decided to slow a little and just run by feel.  If I felt good, I'd keep the pace.  If not, I'd slow down.  But in this sport of distance running, there's only one way to find out whether or not you can do something.  And that's to try.  So I figured, I'm going to go for it.  If I blow up, so be it.  So I ran pretty hard on the downhills, and slowly ran the uphills for this first half of the race.

I finally hit my groove about five miles in.  Another runner was behind me and as we approached the road crossing where a motorcycle rider wrecked during my first marathon, I heard the sounds of another motocycle's engine revving up  in the distance.  I instantly had flashbacks of this moment and I began to tell this story to the other runner.  He began piecing things together and asked me if I had a blog to which I replied yes.  He had read my race report from that race, trying to learn a little about the course he was planning to run.  In fact, he was hoping to gain a little insight to the multiple creek crossings that the course holds.  Maybe I need to take some pictures next time on a training run and put them on here.  We introduced ourselves and Jeffrey informed me he was from Raleigh and was there running the half.  We covered miles together, eventually splitting off at the turnaround for the half.

Nearly eight miles in and we reach the Pinnacle Hotel Road aid station.  The half marathon runners turn around here, completing the out and back route.  The full marathon runners continue on, up the Mountain Trail that eventually leads to the summit of Pilot Mountain.  This trail is one of two technical sections of the course.  I love this trail.  I love going up it and I love going down it.  After running it numerous times over the past couple of years, I know this entire course pretty well.  I know where to run and I know where to walk.  This is the part of the race that can make or break you.  Push too hard and you'll really leave yourself hanging out to dry in the second half.  I've learned this the hard way.  

I see one other runner up ahead of me.  Another comes up from behind and passes me and I give him the normal 'great job' as he continues on.  He's running, and I'm walking.  I know that we'll soon trade places.  In my opinion, you have to be a really good mountain runner to run the entire 3.5 miles to the summit.  Eventually I make the pass and there's no one close behind me and no one in front of me that I can see.  Just me and the trail.  Exactly how I like it.  

The end of the Mountain Trail soon comes and I hit the tail end of the Ledge Springs trail that takes you to the Grindstone trail, which then leads you to the summit.  This is the steepest part of the course as the trail is mostly man-made stairs.  I don't even bother trying to run.  I hike quickly and soon reach the summit.  Summer and her parents, as well as Gemma were there to greet me.  No time for chit-chat.  I grab my Accelerade and the Ensure and continue walking as I down it.  As I start towards the knob, I hear Summer yell something at me.  She was informing me was in 10th place.  Good to know, but I'm not here for place.  I'm hear to beat 4 hours.  And up until this point, everything was right on track.

Gemma and Scout playing at the top of the mountain

Coming up to the summit

Giving my sweet baby a kiss before tackling the second half.

I headed for the knob.  If you have ever driven through Pilot Mountain, you know what I'm talking about.  Runners circle the knob and then head down the Ledge Springs trail and then down the other side of the mountain.  Once I finish the loop, I see another guy standing and talking to another runner.  He was asking if that guy had gone around the knob.  He said no.  He asked me, and I said yes and I asked if he had.  He had as well and I said go left.  We ran together a little bit and he told me he had gone around the knob twice.  That really sucks.  Another reason I'm lucky to train on this course and know it so well.  We both headed down the Ledge Springs trail together.  Here I am wearing my super comfy cushy Hokas and this guys wearing Vibrams.  He must have sandpaper on his feet.  I don't see how he ran this whole race like that. 

Once we reach the downhill part of the mountain, I take off.  I pass my Vibram friend, and then a few other people but I'm not sure if they were in the race.  I'm really concentrating on running this downhill as fast as I can.  I end up running two miles at sub-9 minute pace.  The next few miles are mostly downhill with some ups but no major climbs.  Another part I'm very familiar with and I know when to push and when to not push.  Again I'm all alone with no one close behind and no one up ahead. 

After coming down the mountain, there is a short 1.75 mile trail that takes you back to the Pinnacle Hotel Road aid station that served as the turnaround for the half marathoners.  I arrive to find my parents there to cheer me on.  There are no other runners and only a couple of volunteers.  I tell them thank you for being there and without stopping, head down the hill for the final 7+ miles to the finish.  I knew what was in store.  I knew fatigue would start to set in, and before the race I told myself that the mental test would begin here.  

I ran as much as I could.  I was power hiking the uphills, and running everything else.  In my head I was loosely using a phrase that I had learned before my first 100k:  "Walk before you think you should.  Run before you think you can".  I had slightly discarded the walking part, but trying to enforce the 'run before you think you can' mentality.  It's a mind game.  When you're tired, your body says stop.  But you have to power through.  "You are stronger than you think you are and you can do more than you think you can".  Another quote I was using in my favor.  I felt good that I was running, but when my Garmin would beep at the next mile mark, I noticed my pace for that mile was 10:29.  Sort of deflated my feelings.  I keep going and next mile is 11:04.  Again, frustrating.  It's times like this I should have just ignored the Garmin.

The race started at 9am.  I knew I needed to finish by 1pm in order to break 4 hours.  It's go time.  With less than three miles left, I had my work cut out for me.  

Nearing the end of the corridor trail, I pushed the fatigue and pain aside and ran as hard as I could.  I didn't look at my watch but I ran a 9:59.  Followed it up with a 9:34.  Less than a mile left now and I'm done with the corridor trail.  It's mostly flat from here on in with 3 more creek crossings.  As I reach the entrance of the park where the race starts, some people are leaving in their car.  Others are gathered around talking.  They all yell positive things to me as I push forward.  I get to the final creek crossing and the finish line is in sight.  This is the deepest of them all, coming up to my knees.  I almost stumble due to the rocks on the bottom but I grit my teeth and I think I grunted out loud.  A few people were standing on the banks of this creek and they gave me some positive encouragement as I sprinted for the finish.

Sub-4 was a given now.  I had beat my goal.  I saw Summer and Gemma, as well as my parents and her parents.  I threw my handhelds down and Summer handed me my baby girl and we crossed the finish line together.  Officially 3:56:58.  Surpassed my goal by three minutes and beat last year's time by almost five minutes.  Doesn't sound like much but to me it's a big deal.  

Summer making the handoff so I can run across the finish with Gemma

Clock says 3:57:02 but results on website showed 3:56:58

Gemma and I after the finish

Me and my wonderful family.

I ran my race.  I ran hard.  I pushed harder than I thought I should have.  But if I hadn't, I would not have ran the time I did.  I was proud of myself for once.  I set a goal, and I pushed my body mentally and physically, and I achieved that goal.  Some people are afraid to set goals for fear they will fail.  Others are afraid that trying to do something that seems unattainable will 'hurt'.  Of course it will!  If it was easy, everyone would do it.  Getting out of your comfort zone should be done regularly.  You'll learn more about yourself when you do.  This race really boosted my mental confidence and is another step in the right direction as I continue on my quest of completing my first 100 mile race, the Massanutten 100.   

Race # 27 - Weymouth Woods 100k

Weymouth Woods 100k
1/19/13
8:00 AM
Southern Pines, NC
Time: 6:38:10 
Place:  67 out of 77 - DNF after 7 laps/31.85 miles

When it comes to ultrarunning, you read about successes, failures, hardships, good days, bad days, just about everything.  Being a new ultrarunner, I've been successful in all my races.  Maybe occasionally I've had the thought that I may never have a DNF.  If you train right, and prepare yourself for the task at hand, why should you ever DNF a race?  

Well, it happened.  And I'm not ashamed of it.  I'm actually glad I got it out of the way.  It's really not that big of a deal.  Of course you don't want to make it a habit.  But hey, you live to run another day.  And that's what it's about.

I read an blog post by Geoff Roes a while back and it was in reference to a race in which he DNF'd.  Many people were questioning him and his decision to drop, myself included.  Geoff is one of the best ultrarunners in the sport, so he knows what he's doing.  He races at a high level, something that the majority of us will never do.  So when he got to a point and knew that he wasn't going to win the race, or likely even place in the top three, he dropped.  He could have finished the race, but that wasn't his goal (while for most of us, it is).  He wanted to win.  When it was evident that wasn't going to happen, he stopped and called it a day.  He was quoted saying something to the point of, why continue racing and risking injuring myself, when I can stop now, recover quickly, and get back out there training for the next race.  When I read that, it made sense to me.  Yes, he could have finished.  But he would have spent more time on his feet than he had planned, and what if something did happened and he did get injured?  Dropping was the best decision.

I'll never win a race.  Heck I'll probably never come in the top 10 (unless there are like 12 runners in the race).  But remembering this story about Geoff came into play at the Weymouth Woods 100k.

--Leading up to the Race--

Back in December, I injured myself.  Probably running down Pilot Mountain too fast and too hard. And something happened.  I didn't know it at the time.  I ran the next three days in a row and this pain in my left tibia seemed to get worse.  I decided to take a few days off.  And being the 'internet doctor' I am, I quickly began searching for a diagnosis for my problem.  At first I thought it was a stress fracture, but later I re-diagnosed it as a 'stress reaction', which is the pre-cursor to a stress fracture.  I didn't need crutches or a boot or anything.  Instead, rest was the prescription.  I didn't go to a doctor because I knew that's what they'd say.  

Fast forward to January, I finally am able to get back to running.  I knew I still had a decent base.  Mentally I thought I could finish the 100k.  But all in all, it was 15 hours or bust.  Weymouth Woods is a qualifying race for the Western States 100.  That's what drew me to it in the first place.  But you have to run it under 15 hours to qualify.  So that was my goal.  I went into the race with the mindset of 'if it looks like I can do it under 15 hours, I'll go for it....but if something doesn't feel right, or I can't make that cutoff, I'll drop and save myself for another day'.  I did NOT want to re-injure my leg.  Especially since I did what I'm sure plenty of other stubborn long distance runners have done:  Register for a race while you're injured!  Yep, I got picked in the lottery and registered for the Massanutten 100 miler in May.  So I just needed to get in a good long run, and continue to work my way back, with this ultimate goal in mind.  

--Race day--

Since I had sort of 'planned' to DNF, I told Summer not to worry about coming to see me.  While it's always great to have her and Gemma there supporting me, it wasn't worth it.  So I headed out super early and drove 2 hours to Southern Pines, NC.  This race was sure to be flatter than UROC.  

The race consists of 14 loops on a 4.47 mile course.  This would be my first time on a loop course so it was new to me.  Even though I knew a DNF was a good possibility, A) I missed the withdrawal date to get my money back, B) I figured I'd get in a good long run and the shirt I paid for, and C) I wanted to see the course in case I wanted to come back in the future.

We all gathered inside a building to hear the pre-race briefing.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  However, as I was putting on my gaiters, the plastic piece that goes under my shoe snapped.  I quickly wondered if that was foreshadowing as to how my day would go.

We headed to the start line and gathered around.  It was in the low 30's but the sun was rising and forecast showed it would be a great day for running.  I knew I wanted to do each lap a little under an hour and that I would slow down later so they would all even out.  Mentally I thought I could do this.  14 laps.  Do as many as I can in just under an hour.  Then have a little 'time in the bank' toward the latter stages of the race and hope that I can get in under 15 hours.  NOTE:  You Cannot Bank Time In A Race.  I knew this, but I was going to give it everything I had.

The first lap was a little slow at first just because of the conga line of runners that had to thin out.  The race was capped at 75 runners though which appeals to me as I enjoy smaller races.  The trail was great.  Plenty of roots sticking up everywhere that would surely cause runners some problems when the sun went down.  I chatted with a few folks but soon settled into my thing:  running alone.  I do it all the time.  I'm used to it.  So that's what I do.  

When I finished the first loop, I stopped at the long line of aid.  There was a guy grilling all kinds of stuff.  I grabbed some grilled cheese quarters, gummy bears, and headed off for loop two.  Slowly, I was learning the course.  Figuring out where I should run and where I should walk.  Nothing interesting on this loop, as was the case on most.  Once I completed it, I went back for some more grilled cheese but there was none.  I grabbed a piece of cheese quesadilla instead.  It didn't taste good.  I had some sort of minor cold in my head/chest and eating this quesadilla just felt so dry in my mouth, even when I drank water.  I did not enjoy it.  I choked most of it down and threw away the rest.  I was taking a gel at the half way point of each loop as well but I wanted to eat solid foods as much as I could.

Somewhere on loop three, towards the end, I felt something like a stick hitting my leg.  I looked down and realized the plastic/rubber string on my other gaiter was broken.  Great.  I could tell it wasn't my day.  Almost a half marathon into this race and my legs were dead.  Each lap got harder and harder, even though I was keeping up my pace of a lap per hour.  I tried not to think about the big picture.  Just one lap at a time.  

The sun was up and it was warm now.  I had shed the gloves, long sleeve shirt, and winter hat and was down to my traditional shorts, tshirt, and visor.  Lap four, five, and six all passed.  I was eating, but mentally I was going downhill.  Seven was half way.  So I convinced myself to at least get half way.  At least if I dropped after that, I could be satisfied with a good long run.

Lap seven concluded and I stopped at my cooler and sat down in a chair.  I called Summer and told her what was up.  I had high hopes.  Why wouldn't I?  But reality is, I hadn't done a long run since November.  I only ran 68 miles in December.  I was undertrained.  My base got me through a 50k, and I was happy with that.  It was about the big picture.  I could have finished.  I had stopped after 31.85 miles which I covered in 6 hours and 38 minutes.  I had over 13 hours to finish the second half of the race.  But that wasn't my goal.  I had 8 hours to finish that second half in order to get the Western States qualification.  I knew that wasn't in the cards.  I didn't want to risk getting injured again.  I had too much on my schedule in front of me.  So I dropped.  

The Race Director, Marie Lewis, was great.  She tried to talk me out of it, but I told her I had bigger eggs in my basket and I couldn't risk messing things up.  Another runner was sitting nearby and had ice on her knee.  I began to tell her and another gentleman sitting beside her that I was dropping as I didn't want to injure my leg again since I was ultimately training for Massanutten 100.  The gentleman sitting there then said something to the point of "Oh you're doing Massanutten? [yes] That's the only race that ever made me cry".   So at least that's encouraging for what's in store for me come May 18-19.  

In the end, I had a great time at this race.  It's low key, and that's how I like it.  I will definitely keep this one on my radar for future years and look forward to going back and getting my revenge when I am healthy.

Race # 26 - 2012 UROC 100k

UROC 100k
9/29/12
7:15 AM
Wintergreen, VA
Time: 14:36:35
Place: 43/66 overall (including Elite field) -- 23/46 for non-Elite field
139 starters. 66 finishers. 52% drop rate.

 -- I had hit the lowest point of my running career. I had hit the highest point of my running career. And it all happened in a span of 14 hours, 36 minutes, and 35 seconds. This is my story of the 2012 UROC 100k. --

You’ll never know what you can accomplish until you try. Some people are afraid to take chances. Some are afraid they will fail, or it will hurt too bad, or they are just scared. I've always been the type of person that if I get something in my mind, and I want to do it, I give it 100% effort, no matter what it is. When I started running 2 ½ years ago, I never knew how far I could go. While I still don’t know, I sort of have an idea.

Last November, I clicked submit, and with that, I was signed up to run the Ultra Race of Champions (UROC) 100k. One hundred kilometers. Roughly 62.2 miles. This was, by far, the craziest thing I had ever contemplated doing. But you can do anything you set your mind to.

My wife, Summer, actually encouraged me to sign up for this race. After doing the sister 50k race in 2011, she was familiar with the area and the race directors, Gill and Francesca, put perfect crew directions for aid station to aid station on their website. This made it easy for her to keep up with me. I did warn her though, that you can’t just go out and run 100k. You have to train for it. And with a baby due in February, this would mean somehow getting in long runs on the weekends, likely on less sleep that usual, so it would be a learning experience all the way around.

After months of training, and fighting off a ‘slightly frayed’ meniscus during the late spring/early summer, September finally arrived. My final major training run consisted of 35 miles of running, walking, and hiking, covering over 7,200 feet of elevation gain, and 7,200 feet of descent. This turned out to be a big confidence boosting run as that was in the ball park of the same elevation for the race. But the race just had 27 more miles in it. When you’re running an ultramarathon, it’s going to hurt. Plain and simple. No matter how fast, or how slow you go, eventually, it will hurt. But you have to push forward. Grin and bear it. For the feeling of crossing that finish line is unlike any other feeling.

-- Pre-race --

We headed up to Wintergreen, Virginia the day before the race to see some of the elites, meet some old and new friends, and just take in the whole race experience. The ‘mandatory’ pre-race meeting brought some not so welcoming news. The race directors had spent a lot of time making a new trail that led from the resort to the third aid station. This new trail meant that the 3 mile steep downhill down Wintergreen Drive, and the even steeper one mile uphill (~15% grade) to Reed’s Gap aid station, would be cut out. Last year, those two parts sucked because A) they were at the beginning and B) they were at the end so you knew that’s how you’d finish. Unfortunately, due to construction on the Blue Ridge Parkway, they were unable to get permits for us to run that trail. This meant that the lovely trail that had just been made would now be replaced with the steep road section. Awesome.

The night before the race, there was a discussion panel where all of the elites were gathered to answer some questions. Hearing what some of them had to say really made me feel like I was not alone.

Max King, one of the most amazing mountain runners in the world, who had never done anything over a 50 miler, (and only done two of those), said he was scared to death. I could relate. Ellie Greenwood, who set the course record at Western States back in June, talked about how we sometimes have to take chances, especially in running. And if you never take chances, you’ll never know what you’re able to accomplish. If you set limits on yourself, that’s as far as you’ll make it.

-- Race Day --

After a normal night’s sleep, 5 am came and it was finally here. I had been counting the days for months. It was time to push my body further than it had ever been. These were uncharted waters I was entering, and only time would tell how I would fare. My goal was of course to finish, but I also wanted the buckle, which required a sub-17 hour finish. I had my virtual partner on my Garmin set for a 16:19 pace but vowed not to look at it until late in the race. I did not want to get caught up in watching the clock the entire time. My shoes for the day would be the Hoka Stinson B’s, a trail/road combo shoe that I loved. Socks were Darn Tough. Literally and figuratively. Made in the USA out of merino wool, lifetime guarantee, guaranteed not to give you blisters. I love these socks. 

Gemma decided she was going to wake up shortly after 5 too. I guess she wanted to be with me on my big day. So we turned on the TV while I got ready and found some old black and white Three Stooges to watch. In the episode, some or all of the Stooges got married and were driving with their ladies in a car but appeared to be lost. One asked the other where the sign said they were. He said ‘Goslow’. His lady informed him the sign actually said ‘Go Slow’. I chuckled a little and then realized it was probably meant for me to see that as some sort of subliminal message and another reminder to take it easy and Go Slow.

We headed down to the start/finish line.  On the way, there was a guy walking in the middle of the road, in dark clothing.  It was still dark out.  We barely saw him but thankfully the little reflective pieces on his clothes made him visible.  I stopped and he said:  "I go to race".  It was one of the elite runners who was from Brazil.  I had watched his pre-race interview the day before and knew he didn't speak much English.  I told him to hop in and we drove him to the start.

The elites had a 7 am start so we watched them take off and then it was time. The moment was here. I lined up in the back. I was in no hurry. It was going to be a long day. No need to get in a rush. I crossed the start line, saw Summer and our daughter, baby Gemma. I gave them both one last kiss and I was off on an adventure I never dreamed possible.

-- Miles 1-20 --

Abiding by the arguably number one rule in ultrarunning, I started out slow. I was in the back. I didn't care how far people got ahead of me. I was going to run my race. The first four miles were mostly downhill. Nice way to start, but we had to come back up that hill eventually. At the 5k mark, we came to a creek crossing. With rain the day and night before, rocks were slick so I made sure I stepped carefully. Unfortunately, the guy in front of me slipped and fell on his back. It looked like it hurt. I pulled him up and made sure he was alright before continuing. He said he was ok so I headed on my way eventually reaching the turnaround and headed back up the hill, walking. Something I would do a lot of that day.

I walked up the hill with one guy and he was wearing some Hokas.  We casually talked about how much we liked them and shared some of our experiences with them. We met up with one girl who was from the Bay area in California who was running her first 100k, and she already had dried blood running down her leg so she must have had a mishap early on. She would eventually drop down and do the 50k at the Slacks Trail overlook, where the 100k and 50k runner split off.

Eventually we made it to the first aid station and I downed a couple of gels and grabbed some more to take with me. I thought Summer would be meeting me here but there was no parking nearby so I didn't know where she was. I then walked up this steep hill that eventually took me to a residential area of the ski mountain. It was here that I found Summer and her parents who had come along to take care of baby Gemma while she crewed for me. And it was here that I saw the sweetest thing ever:

I headed up the hill continuing through the neighborhood of vacation homes, walking a lot. I was not planning to run any uphills, especially this early in the race. Miles were passing by, I was eating gels periodically. And eventually got to the next aid station. I got an oatmeal pie from Summer, filled my water, and headed on my way. I get about 100 feet down the trail and realized I had forgotten to replenish my gel stock. With the next aid station 4-5 miles ahead, I figured I had better go get a couple. So I went back and grabbed a few and continued on.

The next section led us down steps in between condos. At one part, instead of steps, there were rocks. So I carefully picked out where I’d step and did so. I then went to take my next step and my foot literally came out of my shoe. My shoe was stuck between the rocks. I had put some new ‘lock laces’ on my Hokas and the shoe got wedged so tight my foot came out. I literally had to jerk it hard to pull the shoe out of the rock jam. It was quite comical.

I headed back down through the main resort area and then hit the dreaded three mile road downhill. I ran this section, but took it conservatively, not trying to trash my quads so early. A few 50k runners passed me and said I looked good.  I just said I was taking it easy and there was only 50 miles left! I couldn't help but think what it would feel like later that night when I would be coming up that hill 59 miles into the race. I just hoped everything would go well throughout the day and I could experience that.

Once I reached the bottom of the resort road, I headed up the one mile ~15% grade hill to the Reed’s Gap aid station. I walked the entire way, ate some, stopped for a bathroom break once, and eventually got there. The sun was out at this point so I got some sunglasses from Summer, drank some Ensure, had a slice of turkey and some potatoes with salt and headed out the 5 mile stretch of the Blue Ridge Parkway. While this section was mostly runnable, I did take my time and walk the gentle inclines.

Eventually I got to the White Rock Gap aid station. This was by far the most spirited aid station out of all of them. The ladies here did a great job once again supporting us. I ate a little, drank more Ensure, topped off my bottles and left heading up the Slacks trail. Roughly 20 miles in, I felt great.

-- Miles 21-28 --

The next section was the Slacks trail which lead to the trail that took us to Bald Mountain. When studying the elevation profile for the race, this section did not stand out as being steep or anything. I really had no idea what I was in store for. The first mile or so was runnable but then the switchbacks came as we headed up. Walking this section, I had to go around some people as their walking speed was just a little slow for me. I kept hearing people say ‘almost there’ and ‘300 yards or so’. Lesson learned, don’t believe everything you hear. I didn't know if I’d ever get to the Slacks overlook parking lot. But I did, and Summer was there waiting for me.

That section had taken the wind out of my sails and I was quiet. She asked me what was wrong and while technically nothing was wrong, I could tell what direction I was headed. The split for the 50k and 100k race was here so at this point, I was along.

I left the Slacks overlook and headed up Bald Mountain. This is where it happened. I caught up to some people and we hiked together. I didn't really know how far it was to the Bald Mountain aid station. But we hiked. And hiked. And hiked. Up. Up. Up. Up. We could never get in a rhythm. It sucked. I was taking in gels, washing them down with water, and hiking. I thought we would never get to where we were going. Eventually, things leveled off and we hit a jeep road that was slightly downhill and runnable. This is where it started. My stomach. Everything I had taken in thus far, mostly liquids and gels, they were all forming one big slosh bucket. Liquid sloshing around in your stomach is not a good feeling.

Finally, we made it to the Bald Mountain aid station. The sun was out, and we were exposed on the top of this mountain. I saw Summer and I was still in the same state, only worse. The volunteers offered me some chicken noodle soup and I took some. That was stupid. Not only was it hot, I was hot, and the sun was hot. I burned my tongue on it a little and immediately threw it in the trash. I headed over to the car with Summer and felt it. The liquids were making a return. I threw up a couple of times and felt somewhat better.

Meanwhile, Max King comes rolling in leading the elites race. Yeah he’s at mile 48 and I’m at mile 28. He’s 20 miles ahead of me and only had a 15-minute head start. That’s why he’s a world-class mountain runner I guess.

-- Miles 29-40 --

I headed on my way as I was sort of glad to be back on some roads after that awful climb up Bald Mountain. Heading down the Blue Ridge Parkway to the Spy Run Gap unmanned aid station, I walked the gentle uphills and ran then downhills. I had to make a visit to the woods early on in this section, which seemed to complete the ‘cleansing’ process after what happened at the top of Bald Mountain. I then returned to the road and started feeling much better. Eventually hit a long gradual downhill that led to Spy Run Gap. On this road, I passed the majority of the remaining elites including Sage Canady, Jorge Maravilla, Ian Sharman, and Dave Mackey that I recall. Once I arrived at the water only aid station, Summer was there to greet me and a wonderful surprise, baby Gemma too!

By this point, I was feeling great. I hadn't eaten much since Bald Mountain but I decided that I was going to concentrate on more solid foods instead of gels in an effort to avoid the slosh bucket feeling like earlier. So I got a couple of honey buns from Summer and took off toward the Whetstone aid station.

I ran on a dirt road for a few miles and admired the scenery, farmlands and hills. Once I got to the end of this dirt road, it was back on the parkway for a few miles. It started with a long gradual uphill and I decided to power hike it and try to keep my pace around 15 minute miles. Once I got to the crest, it was a gradual downhill which I ran until I got to the Whetstone aid station.

I was in a groove at this point. I got two more honey buns and ate some other stuff at the aid station and headed on the longest stretch between aid stations of the entire race. The ‘Dragon’s Back’ trail runs along the ridge of a mountain and we were doing four miles out and four miles back. Eight miles round trip but the majority of it was runnable. I started passing people on this section and since I was past the halfway point, and I was feeling good, I decided to ride the wave as long as I could and take advantage. I was not being conservative at this point but I knew eventually the feeling would fade which is why I kept going the way I did.

The last few miles of the Dragon’s back got me thinking. When I got to the aid station, I’d be at 40 miles with roughly 22 to go. The way I thought about this race was once I get to the second half, something drastic would have to go wrong for me to drop as I’m on the ‘downhill’ part of the race. Plus, with 22 miles left, I thought about how many 20 milers I had run and just said ‘it’s only 20 miles’. I made it to the aid station, got a couple more honey buns and set out to the finish. This race was, after the beginning 12 miles, almost one big out and back as we would return the way we came. So I got back out on the parkway, and headed toward Spy Run Gap.

-- Miles 41-43 --

The first part of this parkway was slightly uphill so I alternated running and walking and eventually made it to the long downhill that led back to the gravel road. I ran this whole section and tried to eat. After the slosh bucket earlier in the race, I had limited the amount of gels and liquids I had consumed because I didn't want to have another bout of that again. By this point, fatigue was setting in. This was the uncharted waters for me.  I had never ran this far.  Each mile was a new personal best. The longest race I’d ever done was Triple Lakes 40 miler last October. So my body as expected was starting to tell me it was tired. But using one of the many mantras I had in my head, I kept repeating ‘tired is not an excuse’. So I kept moving.

-- Mile 44 --

Once I got to the gravel road that led to Spy Run Gap, I was cruising along and suddenly this feeling came over me. I had never felt this way before. I didn't know what was going on. It was as if gravity had taken hold of my body and was pulling me in the direction I was running. Almost like I was running downhill. But when I looked ahead, my vision could not determine whether the road in front of me was downhill or not. I kept looking behind me to see if that direction was uphill. I couldn't tell. I knew there were no steep sections on this road but I was just looking for something I could tell if I was going downhill or not, because it surely felt like it.

I didn’t know what was going on. It was almost scary but I did not want to panic. I got to thinking and although it was not noticeably hot out, the sun had been shining on me for the last 14 miles and I had just ran through the hottest part of the day (hot being a relative term as the highs for the day were 70-75). I started thinking about my electrolytes. Since I had not been eating gels like I was earlier in the race, my electrolyte levels may have gotten out of whack. While I was carrying double handhelds, one with water and another with Accelerade, my fear of slosh bucket had kept me from drinking on a regular basis. So I started drinking the Accelerade in hopes that it would get me out of this funk. Either it did or enough time passed and the feeling went away. I was back to feeling normal, albeit still with the fatigued feeling but again, that was no excuse. I knew when I signed up for this that it was going to hurt. There’s no way around it. Grin and bear it.

-- Miles 45-48 --

I made it to the unmanned Spy Run Gap aid station and Summer was there waiting. The water coolers were out of water and Summer informed me she had given water out of our cooler to some people that I had ran with earlier. I made it a point to her before the race about the culture of us ultrarunners and how kind everyone is. So if anyone ever needed anything that we had, to help them out, and she did just that. I’m sure those folks were grateful since it was about 3-4 miles back to the Bald Mountain aid station.

Summer asked how I was feeling and I told her I was ok, but just feeling a little tired. She told me tired was not an excuse and the also had poster board signs on the windshield of the car saying the same things. A lot of people saw those signs when they got to that point as well and I think it provided some extra motivation for them too. I can’t say enough about Summer and how wonderful she is and how much I appreciated her being there for me the entire day. I am so lucky.

I left Spy Run Gap and it was back on the parkway for a long gradual uphill followed by some flat and gradual downhill road running. Again, I walked the ups and ran the flats and downs. On this section, I saw two guys way ahead of me but never gained any ground on them, not that I was trying to anyway. The clouds began rolling in and flashbacks from the fog filled 50k from last year started. You could see the fog rolling in just ahead of me, which only meant one thing: darkness would arrive sooner.

I soon arrived at the Bald Mountain aid station for the second time and the two guys who were previously in front of me were there eating some food. Summer was hungry so I got her some chicken noodle soup since the weather was cooling off.  I drank some ensure, and put on some arm warmers and my headlamp as I knew the next trail section would be done in the dark soon enough. I grabbed a handful of gummy bears and headed on my way with the two other gentlemen.

-- Miles 49-54 --

The three of us walked and talked for a few minutes.  They soon stopped for a bathroom break but I kept going. Being on the trail, with tree cover, it was getting dark fast. I tried to keep moving at a good pace to get down the mountain to the White Rock Gap aid station as quickly as possible. I had not done much night time trail running in training so this was another learning experience. I learned that trail running in the dark slows you down. There’s no way around that. Especially when it gets really technical, which this trail had plenty of rocky sections.

As the last moments of daylight faded away, I soon saw someone ahead who called out to me. It was a volunteer whom I had seen earlier in the day at the Slacks trail overlook. He was a sweeper who was going to follow me to the overlook and said he would top off my water bottles. I said that wouldn't be necessary as my wife would likely be waiting for me and she could do it since this wasn't an aid station at all.

He continued to talk to me. I didn't like that. I was in a groove, all by myself. I was doing just fine, concentrating on the trail, in the dark, with my headlamp. He starts telling me how he’s a marathoner and he wanted to volunteer to help these crazy people who run amazing amounts of mileage. He then tells me he holds some record for an indoor marathon done on a 200 meter track while wearing a kilt. It was at this point I really wanted to tell him he’s stupid and to quit talking to me because I really want to just run. Then it happened.

I came to a fork in the trail. Course markers were orange flags all day. They even put out little orange glow sticks as it got dark. But once I got to this fork, there was a trail that led in the direction I was heading, but it also went behind me to the right up the hill. There were quite a few orange flags here. I turned to look at the trail behind me from where I just came. I saw no orange flags. I didn't know how I had missed a turn. Or did I miss a turn? I don’t know because kilt boy was back there blabbing his darn mouth. So at this point I’m kind of mad. I asked him what I was supposed to do. He ran up the hill to see where it led. He yelled to me to keep going in the direction I was headed. So I did.

I thought he would catch up with me. But he never came. I got to thinking just exactly what happened. It dawned on me probably a half mile down the trail that the hill he ran up led to the parking lot at the Slacks overlook. I was really mad then because I thought Summer was waiting for me up there. And I have no way to get in touch with her. She’s going to wait for me and I’ll never show. Then she’ll get worried that I've been eaten by a bear or something. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to turn around and back track another mile or so up to the parking lot. So I just kept going and prayed that she would be waiting for me at White Rock Gap.

Then things got worse. As I was going down this trail, I never got to the numerous switchbacks that I had gone up earlier in the race. None of the trail looked familiar, especially since it was dark. The switchbacks just never came! But I was on a trail with course markers and glow sticks. I knew I was on some sort of right track and I would eventually come out somewhere. But where? Eventually I see reflections from my headlamp ahead. It was two other runners. Only one had a headlamp. The other was limping and said he was in some pain. They were mad too. Apparently kilt boy had told them it was only two miles to the aid station but they had been further than that. I told them my story and we were all one pissed off trio of runners.

We were all walking together at this point. Since they only had a small headlamp with not a lot of light between the two of them, I decided not to run ahead and leave them in the dark. I love my headlamp (Petzl Myo RXP). As we walked, my brain was processing the course. I got to thinking about the course map and remembered there was one section that we didn't duplicate. It branched off and circled around to return to the White Rock aid station a different way. About the time I realized where we were, I heard a cow bell and yelling. Finally. We had made it back to the best aid station. And even better, Summer was there waiting for me. Baby Gemma too! I came out of those woods expressing my anger about everything and those who were there probably thought I was the biggest butt face but I didn't care. I was mad earlier. I told them what happened, but then I dropped it. I drank and ate some, and knew I was on the home stretch. Only 8 miles to go.

-- Miles 55-58 --

The next 4-5 miles were back on the parkway. It was dark, cloudy, and the full moon I had looked forward to for months was rising as I could see it through the trees. That would be the only time I’d see it as it soon vanished behind the clouds. Temperatures began to drop and it was getting hard to run. My quads were very sore. I had been doing mental math since I started down Bald Mountain and the closer I got to the finish, the more I thought about not just a sub-17 hour finish, or sub-16, but a sub-15 hour finish! I knew the last three-mile uphill could possibly take an hour if I walked 20-minute miles. So doing the math, if I could just average 15-minute miles up to that point, I could pull it off.

When I left White Rock Gap aid station, there was one headlamp shining behind me. I didn't know who it was but assumed it was the two guys who I shared the trail with earlier when we were all mad at kilt boy. I tried not to make it obvious when I looked over my shoulder to see if the light was gaining ground on me, although it was pretty pointless. I know it’s a race and everything, but when you’re out there as long as we were, who cares whether you finish in 24th or 23rd place? But still, it is a race, and you always want to do the best you can. So I was doing my best to make sure I did not get passed.

I alternated running and walking. It was so dark and I could not tell if the parkway section I was on was uphill or downhill. There were no steep sections, but the gradual hills I remembered from earlier in the day were indistinguishable. Then it happened. Mile 55, I started getting that ‘gravity pulling me’ sensation as I was going down the road. Not knowing if it was downhill or uphill, my body was going through the same thing that happened at mile 44. Since I knew what helped that time, I started drinking my Accelerade more and more to get electrolytes back in me. Again, it only lasted for a mile.

Cars were passing by, some of them with people shouting encouragement out of the window at me when I was running. Alternating walking and running was best as my legs were really sore at this point and the best way to keep my pace below 15 minute miles.

Eventually I made it to the Reed’s Gap aid station. Earlier in the day this spot was filled with people, volunteers, and lots of life. Now it was dark, cold, beginning to sprinkle rain, and there were only two volunteers here. Summer was there to greet me again but I opted for no refills and just drank some Ensure. I thanked the volunteers for being there in such conditions, and left for the finish.

-- Miles 59-62 --

I knew the next mile was going to suck. Big time. One mile, down about a 15% grade hill, on some really sore legs. I didn't even know if I could run this section. But I tried. It hurt to run. So I did some sort of fast walk/slow run/shuffle your feet maneuver most of the way down. I was looking up in the air at the top of the mountain and I could see lights shining from condos way up in the sky. I knew that’s where I had to go, and I had roughly 70 minutes to get there.

Once I reached the bottom of Wintergreen Drive, the rain was slowly picking up. I started walking up the hill. There was no one behind me, and as far as I knew, no one in front of me as I hadn't seen anyone in a while. So I walked. Cars were passing by in both directions and I’m sure they thought I was some sort of idiot for walking up this 3 mile hill in the rain.

I reached a point on the road, maybe with a mile and a half to go, and my headlamp shining ahead showed another runner. He was walking up the hill, and I decided to pounce. I started to run, or whatever you want to call it. Granted it was slow, but it was getting me closer to the finish faster. The closer I got to the top of this hill, the harder it started to rain, and the colder it got.

I eventually became even with the other runner and as I got next to him I could tell he was limping. I told him good job, just as I had done most everyone throughout the day, and I kept running. In a not-from-around-here accent, he said something to the point of “I try to run to” and he began running. It didn’t last long and he continued walking. I was inching closer to the top, and it started feeling like it was beginning to level off a little, or so that’s how it felt to me, even though it was clearly still a hill. I ran until I finally reached the road that led down to the finish line.

After 3 miles of uphill, the finish was a ¼ mile downhill. As I continued to run, this time going down, a new sensation came over my legs. While the first few steps were the same agonizing pain as the last 10 miles, it suddenly eased off. My stride lengthened and I was sprinting! Or so it felt that way. As I ran down the road, I could hear people at the finish line start to clap. Then I heard my wonderful wife yell my name and I immediately got choked up and almost cried. The cheers were coming in full force from the dozen or so people still there. I rounded the last turn and headed through the chute finishing as strong as I could.

I did it. I had just run 100 kilometers.

I had hit the lowest point of my running career. I had hit the highest point of my running career. And it all happened in a span of 14 hours, 36 minutes, and 35 seconds.

I couldn't believe I was done. All the training runs, all the sleep that was sacrificed on Saturday mornings, all the hill repeats, all the runs in the 100 degree heat of the summer, it had all paid off. I completed something that I never knew possible. In my opinion, I was officially an ultrarunner.

I was awarded my finisher medal, and most importantly, the sub-17 hour buckle.

Summer and her parents, once again, were there to greet me. Baby Gemma even came out and slept in the stroller to wait for me. I was so lucky to have such a wonderful wife who supported me the entire way. Not just on race day, but every day in the months leading up to the race. She has always been supportive of me and I thank God every day for bringing the two of us together. I couldn't have done it without her. Thank you, Summer.

And to her parents who gave up their weekend to hang out with Baby Gemma while I ran up and down mountains in Virginia, I couldn't have done it without them. Thank you, Robin and Perry.

Now it’s time for a few weeks off before hitting another training block for the Weymouth Woods 100k in January, which will be my first attempt at qualifying for Western States 100!  Hey, one can dream, right?

Garmin Data:  http://connect.garmin.com/activity/228723273

UROC Elite Panel

Garmin elevation profile of the race

Start/Finish line


Actually got my name on this race bib!


Hanging out at dinner the night before.


Gemma likes my visor.


Race day morning with my wonderful family.


Seeing this sign at the aid stations was great!


Throwing up at the top of Bald Mountain.  Didn't really get to 'enjoy' the view.


That's how I felt afterwards. First time sitting down in over 15 hours.


But I was all smiles!


Got my buckle!


The guy in the green is who I passed on the last climb. The other two and I all finished within one minute of each other.


Boom


The hardware!


I knew Gemma would like the buckle.