It was 8pm the night before the race started. I had a great
training cycle and was in the best trail running shape of my life. But,
my race was about to end. Pat Heine, my pacer Michael Heimes, and I were
hanging out when a black bear wandered into our campsite and was staring us
down. I was certain he was about to attack. After a few moments,
Kym believed us enough that there was a bear in camp that she opened the tent
to see. Luckily black bears are terrified by the noise of zippers, and it
ran away. Crisis averted. Averting crises is a running theme to any
good 103.7(++) mile run.
(Video by Pat Heine because mine was too blurry)
After a mostly terrible night of cold sleep I got up and
prepared. Said hello to a bunch of friends at the start, and we’re
off. I settled into the back of the chase pack for the first 4 miles up
the road, running and chatting a little with Pat. We hit the first climb,
and we took it about as slow as I can ever remember going up that climb.
But, I wasn’t in any rush. The train continued to move slow over Short mountain
until someone caught us and asked to pass. Shortly after that I decided
that pace felt too slow, so I also headed off ahead. Coming into mile
Edinburg Gap I felt like the first section was very easy, and I was right on
target.
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| Feeling less than stellar at mile 25. Photo by Paul Encarnacion |
So what was my target? Sub 24 hours. Again, after
failing last year. I had a printout of my previous three year’s Aid
Station arrival times, which I very briefly went over with Michael before being
rudely interrupted by the bear Friday night. The plan was to cut a few
minutes off each section, then bigger chunks over the last two sections that I
normally struggle with. In execution, I only actually remembered a few of
the times. I had hoped to be about 20 minutes ahead of my best when I got to
Elizabeth Furnace, but I was struggling early. In my previous 300 miles
on this course I had never had to step well off trail to use the “mens room”. I
did so at mile 13, and felt like I needed to either puke or step off again for
much of the next 15 miles. The humidity was getting to me early. Not a
good sign. Also in my previous 300 miles on this course, I don’t recall ever
actually falling. I fell for the first time in these miles. I was going
down a steep hill and my foot got caught. In slow motion I was heading
towards a rock the size myself, headfirst. Luckily I was able to get my hands
up to push and tumble off the rock. Crisis averted. I don’t remember much else
about this section other than getting passed by Kathleen Cusick just before
Powell’s. Exactly where her and Amy Rusiecki passed me last year.
When I got to Powell’s I was out of Tailwind. I had meant to pack more,
but I forgot, and the excellent AS volunteers filled me up with Gatorade.
They offered to also add ice, which was amazing. I was overheating and
this was perfect.
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| running into Elizabeth Furnace - photo Beth Auman |
On the long fire road out of Powell’s I was moving ok and
killed the climb around mile 29 like I always do. At the top of the climb
my stomach finally recovered, and I determined it was likely Tailwind that was
causing me problems. Over the next few sections I tried to mix in
Tailwind, but it never felt good, so I eventually bailed on it. I had
planned on most of my calories coming from that, so I had to change
course. More Gu’s than planned, and more Aid Station food than
planned. It worked out.
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| back on track at mile 33 - photo Beth Auman |
I got to Elizabeth Furnace and re-lubed and did everything I
needed to do. I asked my crew if it was really hot out, or just me.
They told me it wasn’t hot at all, but others had left without shirts. I
decided to do the same. I cooled off a lot in this section, and that
really helped me move well. I got into Shawl knowing I had a really good
section. Without actually discussing splits/times, Michael would simply
tell me I was in good shape with the times. I took a long AS at Shawl to
tape my feet, and headed out shirtless with two handhelds and a shirt tucked
into the back of my shorts. There were a few other people around me to
chase, so the run to Veach went pretty well. I headed out to what I
always find to be the hardest climb of the day for me. It’s around noon,
and it’s always been sunny. The climb has a lot of sections exposed to
the sun as well. I started the climb with 36 oz of fluids. Shortly
into the climb I was crossing a very muddy section when I fell again. A
harmless fall, except I landed on my water bottle, which shot out about 6
ounces of my precious water. The climb was hot and hard, as usual, and I
was taking in a lot of my fluids. But, after I got to the ridge, the
temps cooled down and shortly after that a light rain started falling. It
was perfect for me. I put my shirt on and finished the section
strong. Looking at the splits now, these 9 miles were 35 minutes fast
than last year. I got into Indian Grave to a small group of runners,
including Kathleen who was drinking a beer. I got out of there quick and
she zipped by me and gave me someone to chase on these road miles. It was
raining pretty good for this entire section, but it didn’t bother me at
all. This was the first time I’d see Garry, who was coming down to help
me/Kym crew again this year. Last year, the first time I saw him I was
hating life. This year, I was all smiles.
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| Actually running into Roosevelt with year with Garry |
At Habron I changed to a dry shirt, put on a windbreaker,
and refueled. I also got an update on my kids. Colin pitched one
inning, allowed one walk, no hits, and struck out the side. Kenslee won her
soccer game, and scored the last goal “for my dad.” Probably my favorite
part of the day. Within a half-mile of leaving Habron the rain stopped
and I was hot already. I took off the jacket, but refused to have a bad
section. At the end of this section last year I sat down and tried to
convince my crew to quit. I absolutely was not going there at any point
today. During the long climb I passed 4 or 5 people and ran strong into
Camp Roosevelt. Looking at the splits, I was 47 minutes better than last
year, and 24 minutes better in this section than ever before. When I got
into Roosevelt I was again warm, so I took off my shirt for last few miles
before sunset. Duncan Hollow was a muddy mess of a stream, as was the descent
down the other side.
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| Gap 1. A wee bit of mud on my legs |
When I got to Gap 1 I changed socks, and picked up my
pacer. Before the weekend, Michael and I had only briefly met once, after
Stone Mill. We’re Facebook friends, and I know he’s a huge Bernie Sanders
fan. I’m politically un-opinionated, so leading up to the race I joked
with him when we ran I’d convince him how President Trump would Make America
Great Again. We headed out of Gap 1, made the turn at the yellow gate and
started up Turkey Pen Rd. We started talking about Trump and other things
political, then, suddenly, I realized we hadn’t turned up Jawbone yet.
There were no flags around us. Michael ran ahead, saw nothing, then ran
back. I followed him back, knowing exactly where we went wrong.
Eventually we got back on course and headed up the Jawbone climb. Looking
at my Strava, we went just under a mile past the turn. 1.8 bonus
miles. The guys I had passed in the previous sections? I had to now
pass them again. Of all the places to go off course, I guess this was the
least harmful. No climbs, runnable road, still daylight, not too deep
into the race to crush me. I wouldn’t let it crush me. Sub 24 was still
in sight. Crisis averted? We moved well along the Kerns Mt ridge,
and got to the road to Visitors around 8:10pm. I moved well on the road,
passing a group of kids likely high on some illegal drugs, and rolled into
Visitors without needing headlamps. This was a goal I had somewhat joked
about the night before. I never thought it would actually happen though.
Besides the first section, the only actual Aid to Aid split
I knew was that in 2014 I got to Bird Knob in under an hour. I had lost
time by missing the turn in the last section, so I didn’t want to lose any more
time here. I climbed well, and passed a runner just before Bird Knob Aid
Station. I had a chocolate covered donut, some tater tots, and headed
out. The next 6.2 mile section always feels long to me. After an
early climb, it’s largely downhill. In this section my watch died, and
the games I play with myself to fool myself into thinking there’s more to go
than there really are were useless. I just started to get really
tired. Although mostly downhill, there are some small ups that I
really wanted to be running, but simply couldn’t. I was exhausted.
Eventually the Picnic Center Aid Station appeared and I moved on. Got a
bunch of food, no one caught me, got out.
In the three previous years, by this time my quads are dead,
or my feet are torn up, so I’ve never run the mile downhill out of
Picnic. I vowed to run it, and I did. Slowly, but it was
running. Kym and Garry met us at the 211 road crossing to give me a new
watch. From this point I knew there was about 3.5 mile of climbing.
I was actually able to run for stretches in the beginning. I felt
somewhat invigorated, and moved strong. During a more technical section
here we came upon an owl on the trail. It was just sitting there and
didn’t fly away until I was almost on top of it. Twice it flew away, then
landed on the trail 15 feet ahead. It stayed there until I got there, and
did it again. It was cool and bizarre, and if Michael didn’t also see it,
I’d have written it off as a hallucination. Eventually we topped out, and
started heading back down. I hate this downhill, but I very slowly was
able to run it. We got to the road to Gap 2 and I was able to run all of
that (I think?). Looking at splits now, this section was 21 minutes
faster than ever before.
We got in and out of Gap 2 fairly well and I climbed very
strong up Jawbone the second time. Because of the missed turn the first time, I
don’t have a Strava segment to compare, but I feel like I might have gone
faster the second time up. I passed a bunch of people who were going up
Jawbone the first time. Everyone was cordial, and I wished them well.
After reaching the top, the next two miles or so are unrunnable, for me.
We walked the downhill, and walked the technical trail from there. Just
as I popped out on the road, I lost the masters title. Nathan Leehman
passed me like I was standing still and finished 9 minutes ahead. The way
he was moving, I knew there was no chance of catching him. But, as I
looked at my watch I realized I had a slight shot at sub 23. When Michael
picked me up at Gap 1, I said we will not mention a possible finishing time all
night long. We were to focus on the climb we were on, the ridge we were
on, the descent we were on. Never mentioning time. When we got to
the road I said “Ok, now that we’re on the road, I can talk about it.” I
then proceeded to tell him I thought I had a broken foot. Somewhere in
the first twenty miles I stepped on a rock and my foot slipped and another
sharp rock went right into the side of my foot. When I changed socks at
Gap 1 it was all black and blue. Every flat step for the last 30 miles
killed it. Rocky trail, fine. Flat running, pain. He convinced me I
was fine. It was 2:15am, and he convinced me we could finish sub
23. We ran every step of the road, and partially up the campground
road. Just like last year. I head Garry’s “woo-hoo”ing in the woods
and knew I had it. The last quarter mile felt like it took forever, but I
did it. 105.5 miles in 22:54.
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| unreal |
Thank you to Garry for coming down again to help me and Kym
out. She loves hanging out with you, and I love seeing you as I come into
every aid station. You helped keep me eating and moving though the Aid
Stations.
Thank you to Michael for spending a cold long night in the
mountains with me. You just once questioned why I wasn’t going faster,
and it was the perfect question for the time. No chance I move as well
all night without you on my heels, and making sure I was taking in calories.
And mostly, thank you to Kym, who put up with this for the fourth straight year. Not just for these 23 hours, but for the months leading up to this where I disappear into the woods for hours on end. You’re the best crew, and wife, I could ever dream of.