A Double Dose of Ring

The Double Direction – Double Ring  February 25, 2012

It’s hard to find a starting point to tell the story of this adventure. This was a big one for me. I’m quite sure it’s the first time I’ve ever toed the line and honestly was not sure I could complete the objective. Sure, failure is always possible at extremely long distances, but in previous events I knew I had the goods to get the job done if the catastrophic didn’t happen. But 142.2 miles on the hardest trail I’ve ever run is not an idea that inspires confidence. I really was unsure this was doable.

Maybe the genesis of this this run was at the 2009 Ring. Jim and I were on the west ridge near Woodstock Gap in the middle of the night. During all of our chatting, Jim said, “Do you know this guy Ryan Henry did a Double Ring?!” We both agreed the idea was absurd, but from that instant I think I knew that this was a task I would eventually put my mind (and body) to.

It was earlier this year when I looked at my goals for the coming spring I had determined that I needed to do a really long event. In preparing for my attempt at Hardrock this summer I need to do something long enough that sleep deprivation became a real issue. It needed to be in the 36+ hour range so that I could really see how I respond to a lack of rest. After scouring the calendar I finally settled down on the idea of actually going for the Double Ring. I dusted off my plan and went to work defining it better.

The Plan:

The entire 71.2 mile Massanutten Trail circuit is run two times each year in an organized event: The Ring and The Reverse Ring in September and February, respectively. My general plan was to incorporate my double attempt with the official event. This would allow me to take advantage of the people and resources on the course in my attempt. The plan was to begin the circuit in the clockwise direction (The Ring direction) on Friday morning finishing the loop early on Saturday morning. Upon finishing, I would turn around and head in the counter clockwise direction. I would take advantage of the event aid stations on Saturday get to run with lots of runners as they overtook me on the course. After noodling the timing with Mike Dobies via email, I had a final set of projected splits that worked.

A couple of weeks before the day of the event I floated my plan past Jim and Kim, who were also doing the Reverse Ring, to see if they thought it made any sense and see if they were game to help me out on Friday. Of course, my friends were always up for an adventure or a challenge; they were on board in a serous way. Kim and Jim had some suggestions and adjustments to the strategy.

The final approach went like this: Jim would pace me for the first loop while Kimba crewed us and set out aid caches at Edinburg and Woodstock Gap for the overnight portion of the run. Her duties fulfilled, she would leave the van at the start/finish area, retire to Portabello for the evening and start the Reverse Ring with the pack the next day at 6AM. Jim and I would finish the first loop using the cached aid. Upon finishing the loop, I would re-group (sleep if needed) and depart in the counterclockwise direction on my own. Jim would clean up, rest and eventually get back to the course to serve as crew for me on my second loop. Lots of emails, to-pack lists and to-do lists later Jim, Kim and I were on our way south on Thursday night.

Loop 1: The Ring

After a pretty good night’s sleep at Portobello, the three of us pile in the van and drive to Signal Knob parking area. Jim and I head down the trail at 5:15AM and Kim drives off to drop our aid cache and then on to our first checkpoint at Camp Roosevelt, mile 25. On the east ridge we bump into a thru hiker who introduces himself by his trail name Marty McFly. He is hiking the MT in 5 days going to counter clockwise direction. We tell him what we’re up to and he seems genuinely interested. He remarks that he has flexibility in his plan and he may adjust so he can see us down the trail.

We arrive at Camp Roosevelt where Kim laid out a great spread and we feasted well. At this point the weather is perfect: sunny and in the 60s. We did get drenched in a quick downpour, but it was still warm and not long after the front blew out and it got breezy. Kim met us again at Moreland for more hot fare. We got our gear for the 30 mile overnight push to my halfway point and Jim’s finish line.

It was now early evening and I remarked over our little dinner party that at this point, I only had 100 miles to go. We all got a good laugh. It sounded so preposterous that’s all we could do. Jim and I packed our gear and headed out. We got most the way over Short Mountain before the sun went down and we had a nice rhythm going as we buzzed along the trail. We were very conservative with pace and keep in a power walk mode, finishing the first loop in 21 hours 10 minutes.

Jim and me at the trail head at Moreland. 40ish down, 100ish to go...[Photo from Kimba]

Loop 2: The Reverse Ring

Now back at the parking lot where Kim had left the van, Jim whipped up some hot food and I did a wardrobe change.  I downed chow and got ready to roll. Jim said he’d see me in a few hours and I started retracing our steps back up Signal Knob at about 3:18AM on Saturday morning.

On the way up I did something I’ve never done before: I pulled out my Ipod for help setup a rhythm as I power hiked up the slope. People would probably laugh at my playlist. It’s mostly top-40, auto-tuned pop music. Let them laugh. The beat to Party Rockers is just about right for a fast powerful hiking pace and that’s what I needed.  About halfway up it started to snow but I was not concerned. I had a full belly and loose stride.

The sun slowly illuminated the landscape as I came into the Powels Fort area. I noted to myself that the Reverse Ring runners were just starting their trek up to Signal Knob 8 miles behind me. With any luck they’d be catching me in a few hours.

For the next few sections really nothing very noteworthy happened except that as I came into Woodstock I had my first-ever exercise-induced hallucination. I knew I was close to the aid station and I saw the cars in a parking lot and I let out a cheer. But as I got closer, I realized there weren’t any cars at all and no parking lot, just trees and stumps and rocks. “Wow, that’s weird” I thought.

As the day wore on the wind had really picked up and the temperatures dropped. At Edinburg gap I had the exceptional Pesta corn chowder and got to chat with other runners as they passed me on their way up the mountain. It was a really shot to my morale as Keith K., Rande B., and Joe C. gave me a pat on the back and an “atta-boy” as they passed.

After the Edinburg AS, came the big 8mi push up and over Short mountain, one of the really tough sections of this course. I definitely came to low ebb on this section. At this point I’m about 32hrs into my adventure; well longer than I’d ever gone before. My perception of time really started to fall apart at this point. I would think to myself that an hour must have gone by, but when I looked at my watch it was only a few minutes. It took forever (in my mind) but I finally made it to Moreland where Tom S. had perogies and hot soup. Hot food really lifts your spirits in an ultra and this really did the job.

Me feasting on Pesta Cowder at Edinburg. [Photo from Burs Tweet]

The west ridge of the Ring features a nice 1-2 punch of Short and Kerns Mountain back to back. Both are tough but in different ways. Short is a pile of huge boulders you have to scramble over so it trashes your quads. Kerns is a covered in small pointy coble size rocks so it trashes your feet. By this point my feet are numb so I’m moving pretty well. A few minutes after the climb up to Jawbone Gap, Jeff B. caught up to me. I had been in kind of a funk for a few miles and was in need of human company. Jeff was moving really well. I had to really push myself to keep up with him. He was actually running the uphills! We tried to talk but the wind was blowing so hard I couldn’t hear much of what he said. Our conversation consisted mostly of him saying something and me shouting back, “WHAT WAS THAT?” Jeff dragged me over Kerns, through the Cristman Hollow aid station (which is a mile off the road and not accessible by crew) and down Waterfall mountain to the base of the climb up Dry Gap. Keeping up with Jeff had really depleted me. I started to fall off the pace and as I lost sight of Jeff, I dropped into a pretty healthy bonk.

I found a big rock and sat down and started feeling a little sorry for myself. It wasn’t an all out pity party, but I was definitely a bit cranky. I opened my pack and ate every calorie I could find in my pack. I also chugged a Starbucks espresso shot. This got me going again and I resolved to cover as much ground as possible before sun set. On the last part of the section, the long descent down Duncan Hollow, I started hallucinating a lot. They weren’t the extreme hallucinations some people have had: I didn’t see any bleeding trees nor was I looking for Mike Dobies house; but in the distance I would see very out of place things and as I approached they’d dematerialize into just another rock or stump. Some were very strange. I saw a guy in a white t-shirt on his knees laying floor tile. My grandfather had a keesh-hound and I swear I saw her standing in the woods with her big curly-q tail. I was lucid, but my mind was struggling.

I made it to the last check point at Camp Roosevelt, the 116 mile mark, just after sundown at 6:55PM. At this point, I had been awake for almost 39 hours. It was only a matter of time before I had to rest and I determined that it would not be safe for me to continue on alone. So when I got to the AS, I put on warm clothes and started eating. I would wait for another runner to come in and continue the course with them. Kerry Owens came in next and I was all ready to get myself together to head out with her and Doug. Then someone said Kerry didn’t want to relive her 2006 Reverse Ring where she suffered on the east ridge in high winds and she was dropping.

Me warming by the fire at Camp Roo. [Photo from Bob Fabia]

Next came in Gary K., Gary X., and Jeff G. The two Gary’s had already determined they were dropping, but Jeff was going on. Great, I thought, I’ll have a few more minutes while Jeff gets ready and then we can go. Wrong. Jeff was ready in about 45seconds and I was scrambling to get myself out and up the trail to catch him. This was probably my only real “mistake” of the day. I did not really assess my caloric needs very well.

As Jeff and I soldered up Kennedy Mountain we had lots to discuss as we’d never run together. This was good as it helped the miles pass. A few miles into the section though, my lack of sleep really started to hit me. I found myself nodding off, kind of sleep walking. I stopped Jeff and told him I could not continue with him: I was afraid I would stumble and bust the teeth out of my head. I felt really bad leaving him because that would mean he would spend the rest of the night alone on the ridge. I had done the same last year (by design) and it is a long lonely stretch of trail. We wished each other well and I found a nice rock with a leeward over-hang. I took off my pack and put it in the middle of the trail where the next person could not miss it. Jim had instructed everyone on the course to rouse any sleeping Cam-Baker they encountered on the trail. I put on every piece of clothing I was carrying and pulled out an enormous trash bag. I crawled inside, checked my watch and then rolled under the rock overhang out of the wind. I was out cold instantly.

I awoke shivering uncontrollably and looked at my watch: I had been asleep for 30 minutes. Shivering is the body’s way of trying to generate heat. When people become hypothermic, it’s a result of not reacting to this shivering mechanism. The correct response is to immediately elevate your core temperature. For me, that means getting up and hiking. For a few minutes it’s very hard to get moving because I’m stiff. But my mind has reset and the fog my head has lifted. A few miles later I’m feeling okay and making good time. Near the Milford Gap trail intersection I see a fire ring and I’m thinking about pulling out my lighter and starting a fire when I hear something moving on the trail behind me. I see a light and I call out. IT’S KIMBA! She is the last runner of the day and is ready to pace me to the finish line. I fall in behind her. I let her spot trail while I just hike along and hang on for dear life. At Milford Gap we have 13 miles to go: just a half marathon and we can rest.

The last tough climb of the course occurs at Veech Gap. Before starting the assent, I soak my aching feet in the creek which feels really great. The Veech Gap motel is closed this year (some years the VHTRC hikes in and erects a tent at this location but not this year) but the pool is open and my feet are in heaven. On the climb Kimba donates some calories as I try to keep my energy up. I’m still moving forward but it’s really beginning to be unpleasant. I consciously determine not to be negative or whiny.

Jim, Marty and me at the finish area. [Photo from Jim]

The decent to Elizabeth furnace is a long steady downhill. As we come into the camp area I think I see a hiker ahead. Kim confirms I’m not hallucinating. As we approach we hidey-ho and low and behold: ITS MARTY MCFLY! He’s adjusted his schedule and camped overnight at Elizabeth furnace to see the finishers. He was just packing up as we came down the trail. We exchange high fives and we head for the finish line and Marty says he’ll see us there. When we get to the river, Jim and Q are waiting. They try to offer us a ride to the finish but with on ¾ of a mile to go we blow right past. There’s one last insulting little climb to get to the parking area but it’s over soon and we stumbling to the lot. Q and Jim are there. We snap pictures and I collapse in chair. Marty arrives not long after and we all sit around for minute and bask in the afterglow of hard epic adventure. 51:25:30 is the official time. It’s a new “fastest known time” for a double Ring. Ryan Henry had the record at 52hrs but he’s the only other person to have finished the deed.

The VHTRC Northern Territory Contingent at the finish area. [Photo from Q]

Not long after we are at Portabello cleaning up. My scent is not fit for human company, but after a shower we’re eating breakfast and lounging before our car ride home. There’s high spirits and hi-fives and lots of thank you’s. The overall finish rate of the Reverse Ring is just about right for this event: 7 of 18 starters made the finish line. Yours truly started with a  3 hour head start on the field and finished dead last in the official Reverse Ring standings with personal worst-ever performance on the course of 29:22. A good time was definitely had by all.

Postscript

I’m so appreciative of Q and Bur who organize this madness and to the many volunteers from VHTRC who work the aid stations and host us. The only thing crazier than running in cold, windy conditions is standing around in those conditions at an aid station and then waiting on the runners hand and foot. I am profoundly blessed to be associated with this group.

As I struggle with these last few sentences, I realize there is no way I can express my gratitude to Jim and Kim. Without Jim and Kim, none of this could have happened. My eyes are not dry as I type these words. Only people who have shared an experience like this together can understand their bond. I have a twinge of guilt for what it took to get this done.  This all brings to mind something my father once said to me: “no one in this life accomplishes anything, except that he stands on the shoulders of others to do so.” I don’t know if he authored it or borrowed it, but it is profound and appropriate: there is self-sufficiency in neither ultras nor life. If I we accomplish something, we do it with help of others. What we did last weekend is neither “great” nor “noteworthy.” It’s meager and small and really quite unimportant in the greater scheme of life. But to me, it was the attempt and eventual attainment of a goal whose completion was not guaranteed. If “success is about over reaching our abilities and living to tell about it,” then it was a success. Nothing more and nothing less.

Me at Portabello after a shower. [Photo from Burs Tweet]



The Note on My Wall

I’m not a frequent blogger and have refrained from further cluttering the already densely filled airwaves with yet another opinion and perspective. However, my friend Kimba has inspired me with her most recent post to put up my own (hopefully) inspirational note. Below is an excerpt from an email sent onto the ultra-list a few years ago now.  This is an edited version of the original post which I have prominently positioned in my work cube and on a wall at home. I try to at least look at it daily. Hope you find something worth remembering in the words:

you all know about the comfort zone.
that's where most ultras take place.
running ultras is all about staying in the comfort zone.
all our strategies revolve around staying in the comfort zone.
all our advice is about staying in the comfort zone;

"start slow"
"walk every uphill"
"dont take any chances"

for all the talk about exploring human potential, and seeking our limits, ultrarunners tend to play it safe.
they line up "challenges" they know they can finish.
and run them carefully well within their "limits".
we believe that success is never failing.

…success is about over-reaching our abilities, and living to tell about it.
sometimes success is getting your ass out alive.

true success is not the absence of failure,
it is the refusal to surrender.

you have to go too fast (you might blow up)
you have to get too little rest (you may break down)
and you have to start laps you might not finish (with or without making mistakes).

lots of people got it. those people started loops they couldnt finish.
they ran out of time. they got lost.
they tried to do something beyond their abilities and they did not succeed.

but they were not defeated. just knocked down.
(maybe fed a dose of humility)
they explored the twighlight zone and came back winners.
they got their ass in and then got it back out alive.

some people didnt "get it". they ran carefully within their abilities.
and never opened their map with doubt in their mind (and fear in their hearts).
they stopped in camp never starting that loop that could end up in hell.
or turned back before entering that section they might not complete.

they were not exactly defeated.
they just gave up.
surrounded by the opportunity to stretch & grow
to explore the "out there" they were afraid (in the end) to venture out of the comfort zone
and into the twighlight zone.

i was never a particularly talented ultrarunner.
i was not fast. i was not tough.
still i am proud of having achieved sub-24
at ultra-running's bellweather 100 mile distance.

i am prouder to have tried for sub-20...and fallen short.
running 80 miles at sub-20 pace and then blowing up
felt a lot more honorable than running carefully and breaking 24.
i learned more about myself. and grew more as an athlete and a person.

you dont have to go to [ultra-marathons] to "get it".
"it" is nothing more than putting something on the line
taking a chance and trying to do something you do not know for certain you can do.

there is no success if failure is not in the mix.

-Excerpted from a note posted on the ultra-list by Lazarus Lake

Ring Redo 2011

This past weekend I made the pilgrimage to Front Royal, Virginia to take part in The Ring. As some of you  may know, there was a bit of drama associated with my first attempt at The Ring in 2010. (That report can be read here.) After my DQ last year, I was very determined to clean the slate.

The weekend started early on Thursday evening when Jim H. and his cousin Tim K stopped by to pick me up in route to Virginia. We picked up another NEOTC hitch-hiker, Kimba, in New Stanton and arrived at Portebello at around 10:00PM. We settled in and were about to hit the hay when Q, the co-race director of the Ring, showed up. The party started back up again and we got to bed around 3:30. We got up late and Q lead us on a 20-mile run on Dickey Ridge which runs parallel to the eastern ridge of the trail where we'd be running the Ring on Saturday. It was a great run and we got to see some cool wildlife on very tame single track.

Owl we spotted on Dickey Ridge.

Wonder what kind it is?

(Thanks to Q for this picture)

After our Ring-warm-up run, we bummed around the pool and relaxed till the rest of the VHTRC folks showed up. We actually got to bed before midnight which was a bit disappointing to me. I've never gone to bed the night before a VHTRC event before: I've always gone to bed the morning of the event.

Race morning dawned very humid and the temperature was expected to break into the 90's during the day. Having run 20 miles the day before, and expecting very challenging weather, the race presented a great opportunity to better understand my body's potential in less than perfect conditions. I formed a race plan that I thought would best fit the hot weather and make finishing a realistic/eventual outcome. My plan was to run only on the downhills during the heat of the day and walk all the flat and uphill sections. When the sun got low and temperatures dropped I'd start running and see if I could make-up any ground on the competition.

I started out very conservative and at about 13 miles into the run I hooked up with Vicky K. Vicky is a club legend and so I tried to talk little and listen much as she relayed stories of the trails she'd run and places she'd been. Vicky and I worked together through several challenging sections of the trail. It was nice to have some company to take my mind off the really hot, sticky, and breeze-less atmosphere of mid-day. At the base of Waterfall mountain we met up with Steve C. who was seeing the trail for the first time. The three of us climbed the steep grade from the base at Dry Run up to the aid station at Crisman Hollow road. The climb was very difficult. It's truly a chin scraper of a climb and if you stop to take a break you have to keep one foot back to brace you so you don't fall backward down the hill.

At this point we were about halfway though the run and making the climb in the mid afternoon swelter had overheated my engine a bit. I took a few extra minutes to put some ice cold water on my neck and cool down in the aid station while Vicky and Steve moved along down the trail. Keith M was running this aid station; he was the third person who missed the turn at the Strasburg Reservoir last year. He, Jim and I are known as "The Reservoir Three" and we've all taken some good natured ribbing over the last year about it. It was good to see him and have a few laughs with him and his fellow aid station workers before taking on the rocks of Kerns Mountain.

I caught back up with Vicky and Steve on the ridge of Kerns Mountain and shared trail with them until we got to the descent to Moreland Gap aid station. When I got to the aid station there were other runners who had gone out faster and had been ahead all day. The weather was starting to exact its toll. The starting field of 34 was being thinned by the hot weather.

Gary K and his grandsons help me with my drop bag at Moreland AS.

Brennan W is on the right working on his feet. He would eventually drop with foot issues.

(Photo from Q's Flicker page)

Leaving Moreland Gap, I started into the 8 mile long Short Mountain section of the course. As the sun was setting I caught up to the third place runner, Kerry B. We covered the second half of the section together  and we discussed what the rest of the course involved. She was particularly interested in where I had gotten off track at the Reservoir last year. After the fireworks of last year, no one wanted to make the same mistake.

As we left the aid station Bur told me the next runner had a 30 minute lead, so in my mind I resolved that I'd not be able to catch any more runners before the finish. Kerry and I left the Edinburg aid station together and got separated as we made the climb up Powels Mountain. As I reached to top of the climb my flashlight flashed over a piece of reflective piping typically found on clothing and gear to add visibility to runners at night. As I got closer to the reflective spot I realized that it was a runner lying on his back on a rock. It's not uncommon for ultra runners to take naps on the trail if the sleep monster shows up. I checked to make sure he was not injured and gave him a couple Hershey-mini's (one of my trail favorites) and a trash bag to keep warm in while he napped. The runner turned out to be David P and it would end up taking him many hours to complete that trail section. He would go from second place to last place before he reached the aid station at Woodstock gap. [Edit: The official results indicate that David went from 1st to 11th overall. He still had two runners behind him when he pulled out.]

I would run the last 20 miles of the course alone and work from aid station to aid station till the finish. The rest of the race went by very uneventfully. I was very careful at the Reservoir and Lookout sections on Signal Knob where I had gotten off course last year. I finished the race in second place overall and no worse for the wear. I learned that even in hot nasty weather, a strategy consistent with the conditions can get you through easily and uneventfully. I got my asterisk removed and am officially a member of the Fellowship of the Ring, which is what official finishers of The Ring are considered.

This year we were very fortunate to have John S and Stephanie D hosting a finish line recovery station with hot food and fluids for the finishers. They threw quite a party for runners and the volunteers. After a short nap, I found a place to sit and watch a very small group of hardy souls finish. Overall this once again proves to be a great event hosted by a very generous and gracious group of people. Thanks so much to Q and Bur and all of the folks involved at the event this year for throwing a really great party on the Massanutten rocks.

The finishline recovery station. Professor Bur lecturing

winner Randi B (seated foreground right, blue chair).

Randi's wife Kerry (center rear) was the first female

 and third overall.

Return to the Ring

Time and the perception of time is a funny thing. One year ago I had completed two runs over 50 miles and only one of them had "counted." In the last year, I've done two 100  mile races, two 71 mile races and a host of runs in the 50k-50mi range. A year ago I was getting ready to run The Ring and was still very unsure of how I felt about ultra-distance running. Now I'm hooked the ultra-distance events but I still feel (and am) very green.

 What happened at the the Ring in 2010 turned out to be quite epic and some there may be some people out there who have not read that tale since it was pre-blog. It feels like just yesterday and yet I feel like a different person at the same time. Its a fun and interesting read for those who haven't seen it. Here is what I wrote a little less than a year ago:

The Ring, 2010

I’m still a noob at this ultra-running gig and so from time to time I wonder, “will there ever be a day when, after finishing a big event I think, ‘wow, I didn’t learn anything new out there today. Maybe I’ve arrived?’” And then I have an experience like I had last week at The Ring and the trail answers back to me, “silly kid, maybe someday but today is not that day.”

For the non-ultra geeks who read this, The Ring is a 71 mile race which follows the orange-blazed circuit of the Massanutten Trail in George Washington National Forest in the beautiful state of Virginia. Back in June, after finishing the Laurel Highlands Ultra, I fell into an email dialog with Jim H (aka Slim) and Bob C (aka Gombobu) of the NEO Trail Runners about the most appropriate late-summer ultra for me given my other goals for the year. The Oil Creek 100 is my A-race for the fall and I wanted a challenging, low-key event that would build my fitness, my skill-set and not completely waste me. The Ring fit the bill and would get me some trail time on what are arguable some of the toughest, gnarlest  trails in the east and on the MMT100 course, which I hope to run in the spring. And so, after consulting the gurus, I settled on The Ring.

The weekend started wonderfully. I met Slim and Kim O (aka Kimba) on the turnpike and followed them down to Bird Knob, which is south of The Ring course. This section of trail is on the MMT100 course and we did a 8ish mile recon-run to shake our road weary legs out. After our run we hustled back to Front Royal to meet the cast of characters from the VHTRC (Virginia Happy Trails Running Club) for dinner. I was really looking forward to hanging out with these people. I’ve read a ton about them and wanted to hear them swap yarns which are trail running lore. Friday night I didn’t get to bed until around 2:00AM, we were having so much fun. After a few hours sleep, I woke to the smell of waffles and sausage. We ate, got ready and scurried out the door to get to the trail head for the start at 7:00.

My goals for this run were very simple: 1) don’t get hurt or run too hard and waste my legs, 2) see as much of the course as possible and 3) experiment with gear and diet. I actually didn’t have it in my mind that I had to finish. Low key, fun-run events are the laboratory of the ultra runner and offer a controlled environment to see what works and what doesn’t. If I did complete the whole course, I knew I would spend more time on my feet than I ever had before at a sustainable pace. This would be good training for the OC100 in October.

Early in the run I fell into a rhythm, power walking often, keeping my heart rate in the mid-130s and listening to pleasant conversations between other runners. Somewhere between the start and the 10 mile mark, Slim and I hooked up and moved ahead of the group we were running with. Slim knew the course very well and I had every intention of sticking with him as long as I could. We cruised along the most technical, rocky, craggy trail I’ve ever been on. There really aren’t words to describe the course. Pictures don’t do it justice. But we were not going too fast and so I was content to cruise along with Slim and talk about everything we could think of.

As we approached the first aid-station at mile 25, we came up on Kennedy Peak. The summit trail is a short spur off the main race course. Slim asked if I wanted to detour and top the peak for some bonus mileage. The peak has an observation tower on top and we went to the top and snagged a picture which I sent to my wife with the message, “what a view!” We got off the peak, hit the first aid station and proceeded back onto the course.

Slim and I kept working together along the course which follows ridgelines, drops into saddlebacks and gaps and returns back to the ridge. At some points you are literally standing on a rock on the ridge and can see the western horizon and West Virginia on your right and the eastern horizon and the Shenandoah’s on your left. It is so cool…beyond words!

Coming into Crisman Hollow aid station.

(Thanks to Bobby Gill for this picture)

As we worked through what is considered one of the more difficult assent and traverse, Kerns Mountain, Slim and I took turns leading. We were now approaching the half-way point in the race. As we dropped into the aid station at Moreland Gap, we found out all the runners ahead of us, had dropped out of the race and we were in first place. Wow, that’s unexpected! I had thought that if I completed the loop in 22 hours I’d be very happy. And now here we are on pace for a sub 20 hour finish and we’re leading! We left the aid station and started up the long rocky climb on Short Mountain. All day I had felt very good but as we got onto the ridge my stomach started to revolt. A recalcitrant GI is one of the most feared ultra-ailments. I don’t often suffer issues in this department, yet here I was. I wasn’t nauseous or sick. My stomach simply refused to empty and was distended and hurting. This is a problem in an ultra. If you stomach is full and won’t empty, you can’t cram any more water or calories in. Eventually something gives way, and usually its a wrong way trip for the contents of your stomach. I kicked myself for not watching my electrolytes better thought out the day and figured that was the issue. Lesson 1: take the electrolyte tabs regardless of how you feel early in the race.

Jim and me at Woodstock Aid Station. Q has his back to the picture in blue.

(thanks to Z for this picture)

I suffered pretty good though this section and really couldn’t enjoy Dan P’s corn chowder at Edinbugh Gap aid station. Dan and his family are renowned for making the BEST corn chowder on the planet. On top of my stomach issues I was having vision issues: either because of my electrolyte imbalance or because of the dust in the air from the dry trail, my vision was very cloudy. I changed my contacts, which were visibly gritty and that helped for a while. Lesson 2: no contacts in races over 12 hours. I downed a Red Bull and hit the next section of trail. My stomach began to protest less, though I didn’t put much else in other than water at this point.

Slim and I began making good time through these sections and somewhere along the line realized that we had a crack at sub-19 hour finish. We flew through these sections of trail feeling great and running a lot, which was a major goal of mine. I wanted to be running late in this race. That would indicate I had held back my effort sufficiently in the early part of the run and that my training for OC was progressing. I wanted to have a lot left in the tank at the end of this run.

As we came into the final aid station I began to prepare myself for a very long final climb. The last section of the course starts on gravel access road to the top of Signal Knob. It’s a steady 5 miles up hill. Once you crest the summit it is flat for a bit and then 5 miles downhill on very technical trail with lots of rocks. The descent’s location in the course (the end) coupled with the time of day (about mid-night) and the rockiness have earned it much disdain by runners over the years. As we crested the hill, Slim and I did the math: we had to cover the five miles at about the fastest pace we’d run all day to finish under 19 hours. So, what do you do? Ease up, walk it in and play it safe? Of course, we do none of this. We CAREEN down the slope yo-yoing off one another, sighting trail blazes with one eye, spotting a place for your next step with the other and stealing a glance at the watch whenever you can. We are flying down this section and Slim is hooting and hollering as we go. I attempt a feeble yea-ha and blast out of the rocks onto smooth trail.

We rounded a sharp left on the trail and Slim shouts, “we’re almost there!!” and boom: we pop out in the parking lot. 18hrs 44mins!! But wait, where’s Q? He’s the race director and has to be there when we finish to record our time. He’s not in the parking lot, I think we beat him here! We scramble from car to car looking for him in the lot. We wake up some other runner’s spousal-unit in the process and beg him to write down the time from his car clock and sign the paper as witness to our finishing time. As we’re changing clothes, Q pulls in and records the time.

What a feeling! What a trail! What a run! I was on top of the world in my mind (though I’m sure I looked like a wreck)

And I wish so much that was the end of my story…but sadly, its not. The trail had one more lesson to teach me…

After the run, Slim and I made our way to the Portabello, which is the VHTRC crash-pad to shower and rest. I slept for a few hours and then got up to drive the 4+ hours home. Amy and I had a wedding to attend Sunday evening and after another nap when I got home and a lot of caffeine at the wedding, my numb feet actually helped me to dance.

Monday morning I slept in and then got up for a 7 mile run/walk to shake the kinks out. I felt great. I got home from my workout to a voicemail from Slim which sounded very grave. I called him back and sat down, bracing myself to hear some really bad news about a fellow runner who was hurt on the trail. Slim was beside himself but no one was hurt and I breathed a sigh of relief. It turned out that on our climb up to Signal Knob we had strayed off course and followed the road and not a short section of trail which runs parallel to the road for a short bit. The little trail is inconsequential in distance, is parallel to the road and doesn’t add anything to the course. If point of fact we ran more than the race distance if we included the summit spur to Kennedy Peak. But, the race course follows the trail for a portion of the accent up Signal Knob and not the road and we didn’t follow the trail. We were disqualified from the race and Slim blamed himself for the missed turn. Slim and I had effectively grounded our club in the sand bunker and in the process DQ’ed ourselves from the race.

As Slim finished this story I knew immediately the lesson to be learnt. I assured him that he could not take blame for leading us off course. One of first principals of ultra-running is self-responsibility. Certainly, as runners we are not and can not claim self-reliance: we’re aided by the greatest, most selfless volunteers, who give us all the food, water and encouragement we need to finish our epic runs. But in the end, you have to take care of yourself and follow the course and any rules the race mandates. I did not know the course. During the day but especially late in the race, I had let myself rely too much on Jim to guide me along the trail. That responsibility was not his to bear and I was wrong to let him feel burdened by it. And so Lesson #3: know the course and stay the course…or it can cost you.

So I’m left here pondering what all this means. The path of your emotions before, during and after an ultra often looks like the elevation profile of the trails we follow: you’re up, you’re down, you laugh, you want to cry, you’re rowdy and crazy and you’re frustrated and stymied. In the end, you get to peer deeper into yourself and your inner being and you’re often surprised at what you find.

 
Why do we do this? Run 71 miles through all that it requires. Complete the distance to be disqualified for a breach of the rules And now, after all that, in the back of my mind I know this: I have to go back to The Ring. I have to do it all again. Maybe not next year but some Labor Day in the near future, I have to go back, and toe that line. I have to see again if I have what it takes and dance on those rocks again. I’ll be back and I will remove the albatross from my neck and finish the run on the course…someday.

Map of the section I missed

(red is the Ring course,blue is the route I went )

So that was a year ago. I'm going back this weekend to (hopefully) correct the record. If the weekend is memorable I may write a report but I hope its not quite so epic as last year. But, you just never know.

   Picture of me at the intersection where I turned wrong.

I stayed right, should have bore left. Looks very different in the daylight.
At Ring in 2010 we hit this area at around mid-night.

(taken by Jim at the Reverse Ring in Febuary 2011)

2011 Massanutten Mountain Trail 100

2011 MMT 

After I completed the Oil Creek Trail 100 last fall I decided to set my sites on another 100 mile footrace in the spring. After all of my conversations with my friends, MMT became the choice. The Massanutten Mountain Trail 100 (MMT) is run on a rugged mountain range in north western Virginia. The run utilizes the 70 mile orange blazed Massanutten trail in George Washington National forest plus a host of other trails which connect to the trail as well as some short road sections. The orange blazed circuit encircles Fort Valley and is the trail utilized in The Ring and Reverse Ring trail runs which I completed in September and February as homework for an attempt at MMT. The course itself is considered by many to be the toughest trail race east of the Rocky Mountains. The total elevation gain for the course is 16,000 ft. which is respectable, but certainly not noteworthy. What makes the trail tough is the terrain not the topography. The mountain range in which the trail exists is literally a huge pile of rocks which you must run on and over. The race has a reputation from turning the feet of the participants into hamburger over the course of the run. Sounds like fun to me…so I got into the lottery in November and was selected at random in the initial field.

Picture of the trail at Bird Knob. That orange Ironman looking mark on the tree is a trail blaze which marks the trail for hikers and runners to follow.

(Picture stolen from Kimba’s blog. Thanks Kim.)

Race weekend kicked off by picking up my friends Eric G. and Rick F. who were also both making their first attempts at MMT. Both Rick and Eric are accomplished trail runners. The drive down was great as the conversations about the races we had completed and trails we had seen was relaxing and took my mind off the task that loomed closely on the horizon.  We arrived at race headquarters in the mid-afternoon and after setting up camp  we stuffed our bellies at the pre-race dinner. I got to socialize with my VA friends over platefuls of pasta and took some good natured ribbing about staying on course at the Strausburg Reservoir, where I got off course at the Ring last September, which resulted in a DQ by race management.

The weather had been pretty nice on the trip down but as dinner ended and we retired to our campsite the rain picked up a bit. We huddled under the canopy of the open rear hatch of the Venture-van and had some fun at each others expense. As I crawled into the van to attempt to sleep, a whippoorwill in the woods behind our campsite started his nighttime song. One of the things that MMT is known for is the activity and song of these birds at nighttime which is unique to this time of year. It was really neat for about an hour, and then the novelty wore off. I did manage to get in two 1-hour naps during the night between being awakened by potty breaks, tent zippers, bird songs and bouts with panic attacks. This year the start time for the race was moved up to 4:00AM which really favors me. I usually have a sleepless night before a race so the early start time meant one less hour of lying on my back looking at my watch. I rise around 2:45 a.m. and do my pre-race prep and head over to the starting area to check-in and have a light breakfast.

A whippoorwill

After a bite to eat and some wise cracking about the day we are about to have we start to mingle near the edge of the tent and give salutations to one another as the starting clock counts down. At 3:56 a.m. we move out from under the tent and toward the starting line as race management barks out the final instructions on the path to follow out of the camp. At 4:00 there is a mighty shout as the throng of 195 runner stride off the line and proceed up the dirt road toward the trail head at Morland gap. The first three miles of the race is on a dirt road which leads to the trail head is almost all up hill. I walk at a brisk pace up the road as many other racers pass me running up the hill. This kind of racing requires extreme patience and self control. It’s going to be a long day and I do not need to run now. I conserve my legs as we finish the road section and turn onto the trail to summit and traverse Short Mountain, the first major climb of the run.

We are hiking in a single file line up and across the ridge and I chat with strangers and acquaintances in the predawn darkness. Somewhere in this area I come up behind Jim. I haven’t seen him during any of the prerace revelry. Jim’s oldest son is a collegian runner at Akron and was called up to run in the conference championship meet at the last minute. Being a good supportive dad, Jim drove out to the meet in Illinois on Thursday, then turned around and drove 13 hours back to Virginia on Friday and arrived at camp after I had turned in. We link up and he takes the next 15 miles to fill me in on all the details of his trip and the meet. His son had a great run and a proud dad skips no details which is great because I’m eating it up.

It may be helpful for me to point out for non-runners that while it’s not hard to find someone who runs the same average pace as you in any race, its very hard to find someone to run with. The problem is running the same average pace doesn’t necessarily mean you can stay together. Some people are better climbers or others are better decenders and others are better on the rocks and so it’s common to yo-yo all day with the same people and never work together. Jim and I on the other hand have a very compatible running style and a similar average pace. We approach the course with similar strategies so once we get together its very easy for us to keep linked up and work as a team to get around the course. My experience at OC100 proved to me the power of two so I’m very happy to run with Jim again.

The next few sections were not eventful except for one fact that became apparent. The air temps were not bad (I think in the mid-70s) but the humidity was about as high as it could be and not yield rain. This means that the sweat on your body doesn’t evaporate so you shed heat less efficiently. I’m using my heart rate monitor was usual to gauge my effort and my pace at the 50k mark is slower than I wanted though my heart rate is right where it should be. I had really wanted to take a shot at a sub-24hour finish at this race but I come to senses in this section and decide that if I don’t adjust my expectations now I may not finish at all. I do some math and decide that a goal of a sub-27hour finish is more consistent with the race day conditions.

Me at 50k mark at Eliz Furnace. Yes, that’s dirt on my shirt. Yes, I fell.

(Thanks to Bobby Gil for taking this picture.)

As we start the middle third of the race we enter the road sections of the course. The MMT course follows the orange blaze Ring loop, but to make up the additional distance and to add more climbs the course descends off the ridge, then runs parallel to the ridge in the valley and will re-ascend the mountain further south on the course. In the valleys we follow gravel roads which are hazy hot and humid. It’s been very cool in Pittsburgh where I train so I haven’t gotten in any heat-runs to acclimatize my body to these kinds of conditions.  As I heat up and miles accumulate I start to run into a deficit and I know it. I’m hot and I don’t feel like eating. When I get into an aid station, none of the solid food is appetizing and I’ve had my fill of the lime-Gatorade I’m using to flavor my homemade energy drink. This is the start of trend.

After one of the road sections we move into the Veech gap aid station where Bur and Kerry O are working. As I fuel up and try to find something I can eat I’m talking and joking with them. I’m not concentrating and make a huge freshman mistake: I walk out of the aid station with Jim and Rande B (who is running like an animal) and forget my handheld water bottle. About 200 yards down the trail I realize it and turn around to retrieve it. I get heckled by Bur for my bone-head mistake and get back out on the trail. At this point there is no harm and the smart thing to do would be to throttle back and slowly make up the gap with Jim and Rande over the ten mile section. Instead I push hard and catch them on the ridge in about five miles. Not smart. We run the ridge and descend to Indian Grave gap aid station. Again I’m not feeling any solid food, I’ve developed a major headache (a sign of dehydration) and I’m feeling woozy. Not good.

I look happy but I’m faking, this is the beginning of my decent into the unhappy place. Can you see the insincerity in my smile?

(Thanks to Aaron Schwartzbard for taking this picture.)

We head back out on the road and back into the sun. I wet down my bandanna and tie it on my head like a bonnet to shield my head from the sun and prevent heat stroke.  It’s still not hot for May, but my lack of acclimatization magnifies the effect of the sun and humidity. The road isn’t dusty but it’s dry. If there had been a muddy ditch by the road I would have wallowed in it like a pig at this point. Somewhat ironically, the Shenandoah River is less than 200 yards east of the road and I can see canoe-ers paddling along in the cool water. It’s almost mocking me as try not to look to my left. At this point Rande is running strong and has pulled way ahead. He’ll go on to run an amazing race and finish in 24:30. Jim is somewhere behind me as I run from shady spot to shady spot along the road.

I make it into Habron Gap aid station (49miles on the trail) feeling whipped. I had vowed not sit in a chair until Camp Roosevelt (aka Camp Roo) aid station but I feel so bad at this point that I give in and plop down. The aid station is in a tough location: there isn’t much shade, it’s hot and breezeless in the eastern side of the ridge and it’s on a road so it’s cramped. None of the food appeals to me but I suck down some broth and eat some fruit and top off my bottles. Jim is in and out of the aid station and I decide to go with him. We head out of the aid station onto the almost 10mile section to Camp Roo which includes a tough climb up to the ridge. I’m a switchback below Jim on the trail when I cough a few times. Then I have a weird cough and then I feel it… I upload everything I’ve tried to eat for the past two hours onto the right side of the trail in a few violent convulsions. I know its only two hours worth based on what I’m staring at as I wrench my guts out and cling to a piece of deadfall along the trail. I sit down on a log and Jim yells down to me to make a good decision and remember I have 9 hard miles to more aid. I shout back with false optimism that I’ll regroup and see him later but I feel horrible. I’ve never gotten sick in an ultra before and I have no experience to tell me how my body may react to this turn of events.

Racing an ultra boils down to making series of binary decisions which, if done right are strung together get you to the finish line in the shortest amount of time: do I run this hill or walk this hill?; do I eat a cheese sandwich or slice of pizza?; do I change my socks or ignore my feet? Each outcome has consequences and leads to the next decision. Each choice brings the next and they link together into a long chain. So here I am: do I turn around and walk back to a hot exposed aid station in the valley or continue on a long section of trail up a huge climb to an aid station that I know will have lots of food choices and my drop bag. I look in my pack: I have 300 calories and 50oz of water, maybe enough to get me to Camp Roo but I’m not certain. I turn around and take three steps back down the hill back toward Habron aid station where I’ll regroup before tackling the tough section of trail in the hot weather. I stop. No, I’m making the wrong choice. I waffle for a minute in indecisiveness and then turn back around and head up the trail toward Camp Roo. A few minutes after I start up the trail I see Jim above me on another switch back. I thought he’d be farther ahead and I hope he hasn’t seen me. I’m sure he thinks I should go back and regroup but he’d never say it, he’d not question my decision because he knows this is my problem to solve. If this gamble fails and it’s the wrong decision I don’t want him to know I didn’t make the conservative choice.

As I stagger up the steep trail I feel woozy again. My stride shortens to a half a step and my progress is slow. I come to a big rock and sit down and feel sorry for myself for a few minutes. As I’m sitting there Brad K and another runner come up the trail. I had met Brad earlier in the day and he asks how I feel. I tell him I’m in an unhappy place and he laughs and tells me to follow him up the hill. I fall in behind the two and tie an invisible rope around his waist. I know from seeing him run earlier in the day, Brad is a tough and very fit trail runner. Good guy to follow when you feel aren’t feeling so hot- so I focus on his back and try to keep up. On the last switchback I’m really struggling and they pull ahead. My legs feel like concrete. My arms are quivering. All I can think is, “I have 7 miles to go, I made the wrong choice. I should have gone back.” But as I crest the ridge Brad and the other runner are standing by a rock stretching. As I come into the little clearing one of them shouts, “you made it!” As they trot down the trail I follow them. One of the ultra-sayings is, “if it hurts to run and hurts to walk, you might was well run” so I force a trot. I start to feel better but I’m not out of the woods yet.

Not too far down the trail I we catch up with Jim which surprises me. Brad, Jim and I run together all the way to Camp Roo. There is great tree cover on the ridge which gives a nice rest from the sun and a strong breeze cools us. As I cool down I feel infinitely better than I did on the climb. As we enter the aid station I tell Jim I’m going to stay for a while and not to wait for me. I get my drop bag, some soup and cheese quesadilla and wolf it all down. Then I lie back on the picnic bench for ten minutes and close my eyes. I get up and do it all again: more soup and another quesadilla. 20 minutes in the aid station and I feel like a new man. I fill my bottles grab a Jello pudding pack for the road and start the long wet walk up to Gap creek trail. I hike uphill for an hour before I eat my pudding just in cause I upload again. But I keep my food down for an hour so I figure its there to say and I crack open the pudding. Vanilla pudding will never taste the same again. I could have eaten four of them it tasted so good.

At Gap Creek putting batteries in my lamp. That’s Brad in the background.

(Thanks to Aaron Schwartzbard for taking this picture.)

As I continued the climb I caught several runners who had passed me while I was recouping in the aid station and just as we toped out on the ridge I caught up to Brad and his pacer. We talked about other races and places and they filled me in on their exploits. They pace each other in events alternating the pacer duty. I was right about them earlier in the day: very good runners. They tell me about their experiences at the Leadville 100 which passes the time. The next aid station is Gap Creek. This aid station is actually visited twice on race day at the 68 and 94 mile marks. In my drop bag here I retrieve my primary lighting and a warm hat and mix my first caffeinated beverage for a long night. After Gap Creek is Kerns Mountain. Many runners will argue about whether Kerns and Short are the toughest mountain on the course. I personally think that Short is harder but given its place on the course, Kerns is a major obstacle in your path to a finish. Kerns is covered in mostly small rocks all set pointy side up and it punishes the undersides of your feet.

Along the ridge I catch Jim again so we run together to the Visitor’s Center aid station. My feet feel funny and I think I’ve got some blisters so I stop to evaluate the situation. At this point it’s pouring down rain and with 24 miles to go it’s too far to push through. Better to evaluate the situation and make remedial changes to fix the situation. I peel off my socks and three aid station volunteers evaluate my feet since I can’t bend my leg around to see them myself. At this point I have to point out to the non-ultra geeks who read this that volunteers are a breed apart. These wonderful souls of their own volition will inspect the ugly shriveled blistered bleeding feet of complete strangers and if needed will apply moleskin, Vaseline or whatever to their feet for them. How many people would do that for their spouse, let alone a stranger? It turns out my feet aren’t blistered so I change into dry socks and grab a grilled cheese and head back out. Again, the aid station workers blow my mind: they put something in this grilled cheese (spicy mustard, I think) that tastes AMAZING. All food tastes better after 75 miles.

At Visitor’s Center in the middle of the night.

(Thanks to Aaron Schwartzbard for taking this picture.)

Jim left the aid station while I messed with my dogs but I catch up with Jim again and now I think I’m feeling slightly better than he. I take the lead and push us forward to up Bird Knob to the aid station where Dan Pesta and his team awaits us with the most amazing corn chowder on the planet. MMT runners have written poetry about Dan’s chowder and it tastes divine. I have told myself all day that I won’t think about the finish or what I’ll do after until I reach Dan’s aid station. As I leave I let myself fantasize about lying in the cold water of the creek that runs beside race headquarters. It’s amazing the things that you look forward to near the end of a big event. I could have written Haiku about the act of brushing my teeth.

Jim chases me all the way to the Picnic area aid station at the 85mile mark where Quatro and his team await us. At this point I feel really good. I know that unless something catastrophic happens I’ll finish the race, the only question now is how fast. Jim and I work our way up from the south section of the trail and catch couple of other runners on the climb. I’m feeling good enough to run some up hills which is great. We hit Gap Creek aid station the second time and we can smell the barn. We do some math and know that a sub-26 is in the bag (though Jim struggled with the math for a bit and made me scratch my head) and sub-25 is possible but it would take a great last section. We table the math as we tackle the last very technical section of trail before the road home. At this point it’s been raining for a while and the rocks on the decent to the road, which are covered in lichen, are super slick. The sound of a rubber shoe sole sliding across the flat surface has a very unnerving quality to it. Jim and I hear this sound a few times and decide it’s not worth getting hurt at this point so we take it slow. It takes us 53 minutes to cover the trail to the road. One word: slow.

When I see the road I know it’s a long downhill 5k road run to the finish. I look at my watch. I think we can break 25hr if we run hard but Jim says he’s done. I poke at him a few times but he doesn’t bite. Finally I say I’m going for it and he says to have at it. I feel bad leaving him behind, but my competitive nature takes over. I’m racing down the hill not sure I can make it but I’m going to try. I come to the camp entrance and I have two minutes to get to the finish. And then I see it: A BIG UP HILL TO THE UPPER CAMP LEVEL. It’s almost an insult to climb a hill in the last half mile of a 100 mile race but I should have expected nothing less. MMT is the course that never gives up. Well, that’s it, there’s no way I’ll break 25hrs so I stop and wait for Jim, we’ll finish together. We wrap up the victory lap and cross the line side by side in 25:11:25 and 14/15 place.

I’m so tired I can’t eat so I go lay in the creek for a while and after a shower I crawl into the car for a nap. I’m awakened at 9:30 by MC Bur announcing a finisher on the PA system so I drag myself out of the van and go to the tent for the bbq and post-race party. I have an incredible time at the party and get to watch many friends finish as we stuff our faces with every calorie we see. One of the great ironies of the long course ultra is that the early finishers cross the line in the dark of night and are greeted by a firm hand shake from a few hardy volunteers and the race director. The later finishers cross the line to a roaring crowd, blaring music and a raucous crowd. In fact the later you finish, the more people there are in the tent screaming for you as you finish.

Of all of the amazing races I watched end on Sunday, by far I was most amazed by my friend Kimba who was the first female Ohioan to complete MMT. Kimba’s finish was her collision with destiny. Eric and Rick both had great races at MMT and when they post a run report I’ll make a link to it on this page. When final official finisher came out of the woods he had less than three minutes to run the victory lap to the finish line before the cutoff. The crescendo of applause for this fellow felt like we were at football game.

Many thanks to the Virginia Happy Trail Running Club and their awesome volunteers. As always you host an amazing party in the mountains of Virginia.

Oil Creek 100 Race Report

OIL CREEK 100 RACE REPORT 2010

As I lay on my back staring at the roof of my wife’s mini-van at 12:30 the night before the Oil Creek 100, my mind is racing. In a few short hours I will start my first 100 mile foot race and I’m scared. This little ditty from Lao-tzu pops into my mind: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” The true-ism gives me absolutely NO comfort. In fact, it makes me feel worse. Lao-tzu could not have been an ultra runner. Ultra runners know the first step is also probably the easiest. I struggle to get my mind to calm. I check my drop bags again. Did I pack enough layers? Do I have enough food? Crap, I didn’t bring long running pants! Hope I ran enough hills in my training…too late to worry about that. For an instant it seems I won the battle as I drift off and then, as if on cue, my cell phone alarm clock goes off. 3:30AM. Time to get rolling.

After the usual breakfast of two cups of coffee and two bagels with PB, I text Amy at 4:00 a.m. to bring up some long running pants when she comes to spectate. I get dressed and assemble with the rest of the racers in the Titusville middle school for final instructions. Minutes later we’re standing in the school yard. I can’t hear anything over the drone of pre-race conversations. I see the RD Tom J raise the air horn above his head. “Here we go,” I think. At 5:00 a.m. sharp the horn blasts, a shout goes up and we’re off on the second annual Oil Creek 100.

The Oil Creek 100 (OC100 to ultra geeks) takes place in Oil Creek state park in western Pennsylvania. The race consists of three 50k laps (31.1mi) and a 7.7 mile ‘bonus’ lap that rounds the total distance out to 100.6 miles. Each lap takes runners up and down 5000+ vertical feet along fairly technical single track for a total of just over 17,000 vertical feet by race end. Three races take place on the course at the same time (a 50k and 100k) and are staggered by an hour to space runners out along the course. The layout of the course is a logistical dream. A drop bag at mid-lap at the Petroleum Center aid station (PC) gives you access to all you may need and the common point at the lap start gives you access to your car. That means that at the end each lap you are also tempted to drop out (seeing your car and the warm building with hot showers) so you have to be prepared mentally for that temptation as well.

This being my first 100 mile race my plan was to strictly monitor my hear rate (HR) and keep it under 140 beats per minute (BPM) for at least the first two thirds of the race. Having used this strategy at LH78 and The Ring earlier this year, I felt confident that this would leave me plenty of leg for the later part of the race. I look down at my watch and as we stride off the starting line and see my heart rate is over 110 BPM and I’m standing still! To say I’m nervous is a vast understatement…

As we cruise along the asphalt bike path that connects the trail loop to the middle school and race HQ my heart rate slows and I hook up with Jim H and Bill L. We trot along and their easy chit chat relaxes me. Jim and I settle into a nice pace and we yo-yo thru the pre-dawn and early morning hours. Jim and I ran The Ring together in September and spent 19 hours on the trail together yet we have no problem finding conversation topics and general wise cracking in the pre-dawn chill to pass the time and warm our spirts.

Most of the first lap is very uneventful. The trail is in great shape and is dry. Hear rates are low and the overnight wind that dried the course has died down. But our pace is much faster than I had planned. This is bad because my wife, daughter, niece and in-laws were planning on seeing me at a couple of points on the course and I had estimated my arrival times on a more conservative pace. Jim and I overshoot my time at the family meeting point by an hour. I feel bad but I’m not going to wait for them so we shuffle on.

At the 50k point we shed layers and gobble down some food. I’m wearing my new Dirty Girls shoe gaiters so I skip my planned sock change and head back out on our second loop. Back on the trail the traffic of all the other runners has broken the trail in nicely. All the dry crunchy leaves that had obscured the rocks and roots in the first loop are ground into a nice mulch. Jim and I continue to roll along swapping pacing responsibilities and chatting. Somewhere very early in the second loop Jim Nelson, who is running the 100k, blows our doors off as he flies by. I met Jim at a road race last winter and shared trail with him over the summer on a training run at the park. We cheer him on as he dashes out of site. He is running strong and will eventually go on to win the race by a landslide.

We emerge from the woods at the mid-point of the second lap (about 45mi) still way ahead of schedule and we again miss Amy and the family at a scheduled rendezvous point. I’m kinda bummed as we leave the aid station, not for myself, but for them. I know that they’ll will feel bad not getting to see me. But it’s an ultra and anything will happen, even faster than anticipated running.

In the second half of lap two we start to catch the slower 50k hikers. One of the really cool features this race (which has many cool features) are the really gracious cut-off times for the 50k and 100k races. This means that hikers can complete the distances within the time limits which is a real rarity in the sport. I see people I’ve met at the Rachel Carson Trail Challenge and road races and say hey as we pass by. At the aid station at 53 miles my stomach is rumbling and empty. Having eaten very little solid food since the start my belly is craving a meal so we stop for 10 minutes and enjoy a cup of ramen noodle soup. I probably haven’t eaten ramen noodle since I as a single guy but I loved it then and let me tell you, ramen noodle after 10 hours of trail racing tastes like HEAVEN! We continue clipping along at a good pace and finish our second lap at 5:10PM and still have a couple of hours of daylight to start our third and final lap.

Leaving the middle school for the last 50k big loop Jim and I tried to do some math on finishing times. We convinced ourselves that if we ran a 7:30 50k and had 2 hours left for the 7.8 mile going home loop we’d finish with a 21: something run. I had said before the race that I’d be satisfied with any time starting in 22 or less, but now my mind was turning. I didn’t say it out loud but I was trying to work if it was possible to go under 21 hours. I gave up trying to do the math after a few minutes of mental struggling and just decided to run as much as I could.

As we closed in on the first aid station at about the quarter point of last lap we start to catch the 100k hikers. We catch a pair of women, one older than the other, and as Jim and I pass, the senior of the duo makes a very sassy comment to her hiking partner about “getting a good look at those run’n B-hinds.” Jim and I find this very humorous. We made it to the aid station at the 70 mile point just before sunset which was a real boon and a lift for our spirits. We stopped for more ramen, pizza and Jim gave me a Starbucks espresso shot which I diluted with water and mixed with some malto. As we assaulted the big climb right after the AS we pulled out our lighting and got set for 30 miles of night running.

The great thing about a lap course is that you know exactly what is coming and on the last lap you know you don’t have to face that last climb or big decent again (till next year anyway…) so it really lifts your spirit to pass major course marks.

The sun was set we worked our way along the trail and started to cut the throttle loose. Jim made a comment at some point that if at any point after 60 miles of racing you feel you can run, you should go for it because you don’t know if you’ll be able to later. Thinking about that recommendation I set my mind to running as much as I could when I was leading.

It wasn’t long till we were on the long downhill past the Beningholf farm oil derrick replicas and I started to feel kinda lousy. I immediately recognized I was starting to bonk. I knew I needed to eat but all I had were gels. My stomach had felt so good all day and I didn’t want to ruin it all now with the nausea that can accompany gels on an empty stomach. We only had a couple of miles to the into the Petroleum Center aid station so I downed a few Hersey mini-candy bars, chugged the rest of espresso mix and held on for dear life. We came out of the woods and headed down the dirt road that connects the trail to the aid station. As we ran the road section I closed my eyes for a while and trying to rest for the big push ahead.

Coming into the AS I was definitely at the low ebb of the race mentally. I walked into the station at the 76 mile point and someone said, “Hey Cam, how you doing?” I just stared at them blankly. “Cam, its Bob Fargo. You ok?” I then replied, “Hey Bob, I’m alright.” I’ve run with Bob several times, yet at this point in run, I don’t even recognize him. I remember placing both hands on a picnic table to stabilize myself and thinking, “don’t pass out, if you fall down they’ll make you stay here or maybe make you drop.” I sat down and tried to eat a cup of ramen noodle. I asked for my drop bag. As I pulled it open I saw the pants I had texted Amy to bring down. She had left them for me. Atop them was a note in little kid hand writing and a picture of a sad face. There was a note from Maddie and then one from Claire each stating in their own way how they were sorry that they missed seeing me and an “I love you!” and Amy had written a note on the other side. My throat got thick and my eyes swelled up. I folded the note and put it in the breast pocket of my vest. “Fuel for the fires,” Bob said. That note was what I needed. Eight or more hours ago they had been there and felt bad they had missed me. They had no idea then how much I needed their support now and they delivered far more help to me than they could have 30 miles ago when I was on top of the mountain mentally.

I felt my energy rebound and I downed chow. As we left I turned to Bob and pointed up to the top of the ridge we’d be climbing next and told him that somewhere up there I’d break new ground. I’ve never covered more than 77 miles in one go and I was about to break another threshold. We soldiered up the climb and started into the really runable section of trail near the cross country ski trails on the south east corner of the course. Somewhere in this section I took the lead and decided there was no reason to hold back anything at this point. This was what we had conserved our energy for and now was the time to cash in our chips. I remember Jim saying from behind me, “We’re at the 85 mile mark folks and Cam Baker is RUNNING the up-hills!”

We completed the third loop and now we only had the final 7.8 mile going home loop. We had completed the third loop faster than we had planned. As we jogged the bike path I asked Jim if he thought we could break 21 hours. We needed to run 1:45 for the last loop to do it and Jim was skeptical; I pointed out that our average pace from the last loop was fast enough to make it. We still weren’t sure but I must have convinced him to go for it because when I asked if he wanted to walk some (the asphalt section was the toughest part to run at this point) he said no and that we should run.

That was what I needed. I took the lead and had no intention of letting up. I had felt like I had relied on Jim a lot during the day and now I felt I could contribute to our run. I pushed the pace as hard as I could and looked over my shoulder every now and then to make sure Jim was close. We crossed Oil Creek on the swinging bridge and assaulted the last major climb of the run. I was very glad that we didn’t have to face this climb in the light. Being in the dark meant you didn’t know how many switch backs to you had to traverse to complete the climb. All we had to concentrate on was the next step. As the climb topped out we attacked the downhill. I started to gap Jim and I felt bad about it. I had no idea if we were running fast enough and I was scared to look at my watch. I rounded a switch back and yelled to Jim to catch me. He yelled back to just run.

I emerged from the woods onto the bike path with just 1.25 miles to go and opened up the pace. My stride lengthened and my breathing quickened. It felt so good to run full out at this point. Turning the corner, I could see the finish line but not the clock. “Would I make it?” was all I could think. Running under the banner I squinted at the clock and focused hard: 20:40:15. What does that mean? Did I make it? I tried to focus. Yeah, under 21…we made it. I walked back along the road to cheer for Jim as he finished. Jim came through a couple of minutes later. We congratulated each other. Jim’s 100 mile PR was set on this course a year ago at the inaugural OC100 and was 22:59:29 and he had just decimated that mark.

After the run I took the best shower of my life and got a bit to eat and crashed in the car for a few hours. After some breakfast I found a seat at the finish line and got to watch a bunch of other finishers. What an experience. The consensus from all is that the Oil Creek Ultras are expertly managed races on a gorgeous trail hosted by a quintessential small town community who pull together to put out their best for total strangers. My gratitude to everyone associated with this event is immeasurable. Thank you Titusville!! Thank you!!!