tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78995436064649909272024-02-21T02:15:02.547-08:00Keystone RunningKeystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-73998977949716842582018-08-12T14:54:00.001-07:002018-08-13T16:29:25.449-07:00Hardrock “How was Hardrock?”<br />
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A simple question. How do I answer this? To be blunt, it was fucking amazing! I only made it twenty miles which took a painfully slow nine hours by the way. But it was everything you would envision it to be, multiplied by ten. All the YouTube videos you see of the beauty of those trails and the generosity of the people, it’s all that and more. The mountains there are simply stunning. I can’t emphasize that enough. The fact that I didn’t finish is muted by the massiveness of the landscape and of the kindness of the folks that dwell within it. You just have to experience it.<br />
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“So what happened?” </div>
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Takes a deep breath. Leans back in chair. Exhales. </div>
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Another three word question but this time not so simple. </div>
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I’ll start with this. Hardrock for me, I truly feel, is on the very edge of what I am capable of doing. When I think of it now several weeks later it seems bigger to me and I am more in awe of the runners who do it. I am much more intimidated by it now having seen a glimpse of what it is. It is a different kind of beast. It is layered and complex bu<img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/14ac7565-ad21-4745-afb6-a99f8ea58120" /><img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/612f2715-201b-4607-bd8f-8425956cf94a" /><img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/ab4b9c3d-522b-4f5e-8333-281d65971b60" /><img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/23c0758e-a76f-42da-870f-ca69ae61de46" />t at the very same time so simple. It can destroy you physically and inject doubt leaving you on the verge of tears. And most importantly, this mountain range can kill you. Being out there in the San Juan’s running alone you immediately get the feeling that the place is a living breathing entity. It’s alive and you can feel it. It is so wild and so vast and so dangerous, and it is glorious! </div>
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I feel Hardrock is more of a mountaineering race then a mountain run. You are not simply climbing some hills and running along on some mundane trail. You can't really just zone out and whatever happens well, happens. There is almost a heightened awareness that is required. You are faced with choices during this event that you never need to deal with in other hundred milers. The altitude alone is crippling and managing your body and pacing becomes so vital. This is a sustained high altitude event that basically starts at 10,000 ft and only goes up from there. Sure it dips down below 8,000 ft briefly when going into towns like Telluride and Ouray, but it immediately goes back up high. And the funny thing about altitude is that is accumulates. It's like a weight that builds up slowly adding more weight the longer you are up high and it slowly squeezes you. The course has sustained stretches above 12,000 ft in the later miles in this direction. There is no let up and no place to catch a break. You are up so high for so long and you are so deep in the back country and almost anything can happen to you. You are isolated and you are vulnerable and you know it.<br />
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The weather is also a huge factor and can end your race by giving you legit hypothermia miles from civilization where a life and death choice must be made. These mountains create their own weather with lightening storms that hit these passes and peaks daily and will make you flee for cover. The temperatures can drop into the thirties on the ridges with drenching rain. If hunkered down in a cold storm waiting out lightning, without the correct gear you develop hypothermia quickly. Get caught out in one of those lightening storms, above tree line exposed on a ridge with you as the tallest thing, and your run could end unpleasantly. I knew all this, as does everyone, but when you are actually out there in those mountains above tree line at 13,000 ft and thunder is starting to boom over your shoulder your mind races and real honest to god fear begins to creep in. This is late July in the San Juan's and this is what we signed up for.<br />
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After all that I haven't even begun to mention the danger and insanity that is some of the trails on this course. They are beautiful and far more technical then I thought they would be. If you are from Colorado then maybe it's not such a big deal but if you are not used to running along a trail with drop offs of hundreds of feet off a cliff a mere few feet away it can have affect you in ways you are not ready for. That was the Kamm Traverse. Or the near vertical descents down off some of the high passes like US Grant Swamp Pass. If you have never experienced that and this is your first time then it can be eye opening. It was my first time there and it was more then eye opening for me. East coast 100’s are not like that in my experience. East coast 100’s do not prepare you for this run in my opinion. Getting on the course and seeing it will prepare you. Of course many flatlanders have gone out and done Hardrock and have done it well. Folks like Debbie Livingston and Chris Agbay to name a few. But what I am saying is running Grindstone or Eastern States or Manitou's Revenge or whatever race you want to put in there (excluding Barkley of course), as tough as those races are and they are hard believe me, but they are nothing like running this. It doesn’t matter. Hardrock is in another solar system. It’s out there all by itself.<br />
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The first two miles were great. I ran across Mineral Creek feeling good and starting the first climb up Putnam ready to go. I was starting super easy and watching my breathing rate like a hawk. I was getting passed by most everyone behind me as the trail slowly became steeper and steeper. Weaving through the trees the trail climbed up and alongside a deep drainage for Bear Creek.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ascending along the Bear Creek Drainage on the opening climb.</td></tr>
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This portion of trail was super rocky and technical and the wild flowers were everywhere splashing the trails with brilliant color. This climb you don't read much about in blogs and reports. It was relentless and grew steeper the further up you went, a theme that seemed to repeat itself on the next few climbs and I am sure the rest of the course. I felt like I was climbing well but after looking at the data I was very slow and working very hard to maintain a rhythm. I ate several gels along here and was drinking Roctane so calories were going down just fine. The thing is the steepness of these climbs mixed with the high altitude were forcing me to go anaerobic and that is just not sustainable for me. So I would stop every so often to allow my heart rate to come down and take deep breaths. This would continue as the day unfolded.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1AGZnyjky0SaANSFT8yHXh4qGFl2S0G7UXzOokK37m-5KgnwE9FlB1e4j4Zkt-ham_Zd5Zq6F5OVXg3VCzG7YiB8b2by0NLNEH_9rNTtd7blo_OTJ7vTNa0_-YJZjGYyMo7AH47s5Cg/s1600/37577157_10215543920581417_4729470892315246592_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1AGZnyjky0SaANSFT8yHXh4qGFl2S0G7UXzOokK37m-5KgnwE9FlB1e4j4Zkt-ham_Zd5Zq6F5OVXg3VCzG7YiB8b2by0NLNEH_9rNTtd7blo_OTJ7vTNa0_-YJZjGYyMo7AH47s5Cg/s400/37577157_10215543920581417_4729470892315246592_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing Putnam and looking back at Sultan Mountain above 12,000 ft</td></tr>
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Near the top you left the good trail and veered off going cross country and went up a super steep grassy hillside pushing a 40% grade. It was a half mile long and the steepness was punishing and made me work much more then I wanted. Again these were not the 20% grades I was acclimating on around Leadville. I was learning very early on that these mountains and trails were nothing like the ones four hours northeast of here. I was receiving a sobering introduction into was this course is.<br />
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<img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/13574e3e-a19e-4efa-8792-8251a0f13340" /><img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/bbd593ee-c14d-4e75-8728-a3018649c3fd" /><img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/49ffde15-0eb9-4dbd-90ed-cc0ce357f1a1" /><img src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/f5632f9f-5f2e-42a1-8f98-ca6f278ef5c9" /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NUpYFCheX6EtNbz-JwV50WIwKmCvUStefjR6rdBEW584y01dcxPbE8gnRj7UgAYtpEPh_AeuwXLSlkYFXcjUv6MBg9dpFr6CHUZKcD6BtkrdnWTiud1dOK1oEWvkZYtQWswhgQ-DndU/s1600/37541973_10215543920381412_2511851253005287424_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NUpYFCheX6EtNbz-JwV50WIwKmCvUStefjR6rdBEW584y01dcxPbE8gnRj7UgAYtpEPh_AeuwXLSlkYFXcjUv6MBg9dpFr6CHUZKcD6BtkrdnWTiud1dOK1oEWvkZYtQWswhgQ-DndU/s400/37541973_10215543920381412_2511851253005287424_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sunrise illuminating the face of Grizzly Peak. </td></tr>
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By the time I crested the top of the Putnam-Lime Creek Saddle the only runner behind me was the legendary Liz Bauer. <span style="text-align: center;">She was going for her tenth finish and days later I was thrilled to learn she did succeed. I was privileged enough to meet her and speak with her at packet pickup. She was a kind and caring soul and was so gracious, a true legend of this run and of the sport.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakkj4AxXpI1WXPd6Nnh-X7HG0kp7UVA2RceVYoZqb5XTHCNKN2ywupRg4sLADI8U4Nz_I3U3GQqIAnY1xth_ViPc0PyK2ALbs2JQjzsldQFbxCGbXecIhQ8FqPrn7KMSmUqP0ksiW_As/s1600/37562501_10215543921021428_467271263321063424_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakkj4AxXpI1WXPd6Nnh-X7HG0kp7UVA2RceVYoZqb5XTHCNKN2ywupRg4sLADI8U4Nz_I3U3GQqIAnY1xth_ViPc0PyK2ALbs2JQjzsldQFbxCGbXecIhQ8FqPrn7KMSmUqP0ksiW_As/s400/37562501_10215543921021428_467271263321063424_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liz Bauer lower left putting on a clinic on how to do this run.<br />
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Now the views from this point in the run were out of this world. It was a strange thing in that your eyes would try to focus on something but the landscape was so vast and open and gigantic that your brain almost could not keep up with the sheer volume of things to focus on. Your brain wasn't buying what the eyes were seeing. The scale of everything was so just so much to handle, especially seeing it for the first time in the morning light. The cool wind was a consistent slap in the face along these ridges. The wind was the only sound you could hear. You heard the wind and felt the wind. There was nothing as far as you can see in a 360 degree view but aggressive and gigantic cliffs and steep craggy mountain peaks. It was jaw dropping. I stood there with my mouth open snapping pictures and in a matter of a minute or so Liz galloped past me on down the backside of the saddle and was a distant memory. The steepness of the first initial descent took me by surprise as well as the technicality of the trail going down. Surrounded by cliffs that dropped off hundreds of feet, I picked my way down at a snails pace. The strong wind beating me in the face the entire time. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1R33IxCVLK8TxsbH3b9j0T1H6S_B0UPsEs_cWBqzVS0U55o4gvs_0iEwCEcjnoViX44smlUM7zgAWiWyBF-qwYBzSIfippPbese8kWKv1qqDqtuE88_EwxHewrLpneu26P6_EfgYiEU/s1600/37414016_10215543921501440_4031354684546482176_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1R33IxCVLK8TxsbH3b9j0T1H6S_B0UPsEs_cWBqzVS0U55o4gvs_0iEwCEcjnoViX44smlUM7zgAWiWyBF-qwYBzSIfippPbese8kWKv1qqDqtuE88_EwxHewrLpneu26P6_EfgYiEU/s400/37414016_10215543921501440_4031354684546482176_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming down Putnam and staring at everything. These cliffs were gigantic <br />
and the scale is impossible to capture with a phone picture.</td></tr>
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Making my way across the vastness that is the Putnam basin the trail was on the smoother side and runnable. Problem is this section hovered around 12,200 ft and running anything remotely on an incline no matter how shallow would make my heart rate spike. So I speed hiked it and waited for the trail to dip down into the trees where I can start to hopefully jog. Once into the trees I was able to run a bit but again the trail wasn't smooth in here. It was root infested and rocky in spots then would get smooth for a bit then would drop steeply down and turn and weave in amongst the trees. I was finding it difficult to get any type of running rhythm.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZBmDn5VlDL_L6HfmFCHGQ_OcuhiI9CeeR9CbqXuuhOgewqZmps7bTH2gyp5LHvlrvhtkUBpWcSY9_p0He_Xx2IartHaqdet2vF-97-UC1rpj5O9qIFkFz98Z5RD0pYqz92019BXcuEM/s1600/37620995_10215543921301435_4087298080980860928_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZBmDn5VlDL_L6HfmFCHGQ_OcuhiI9CeeR9CbqXuuhOgewqZmps7bTH2gyp5LHvlrvhtkUBpWcSY9_p0He_Xx2IartHaqdet2vF-97-UC1rpj5O9qIFkFz98Z5RD0pYqz92019BXcuEM/s400/37620995_10215543921301435_4087298080980860928_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Putnam basin. Staring at my next objective head on, the Kamm Traverse<br />
which cuts directly across those cliffs in the foreground above the grassy slopes. </td></tr>
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When I hobbled into the first aid station at mile eleven I was the last runner. I felt as though I had already run eighty miles. It wasn't my legs that were sore or tired but my cardiovascular system was tired. My lungs and heart just felt drained. It's something that was foreign to me. Usually it's the legs that go first but not this time. I sat down in a chair and the volunteers rushed over and quickly got me food and drink. Then four hard nosed men, one of them kneeling down next to me, who looked like they knew these mountains and this course with serious looks on their faces reassured me and gave me a breakdown of the next section up across the Kamm Traverse and towards Grant Swamp Pass. They were not your typical volunteers. They knew much more then me and I trusted everything they told me.</div>
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The altitude is definitely the toughest force to reckon with here I think. When you start a 3,000 ft climb at an elevation of 10,000 ft and the grade of the climb fluctuates between 20-40% and you are from the east coast you will feel like a vice is squeezing down on you. I spent ten days in Leadville and Silverton before hand acclimating but it just was not enough for these trails. They are just so steep and this was my first time on them. Having never seen the course prior to the run was a massive mistake. And as I left the first aid station heading up the Kamm Traverse I was confronted with a dry loose trail that was twelve inches wide, cantered down towards a grass slope pushing grades of 60% which then stopped abruptly at a series of plunging cliffs. A slip here would mean almost certain death. My home town mountains and trails I run are not like this but here I guess you just get used to it. This is the San Juan's and this is the Hardrock course.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4GtU8CPGr8-6bkhFyK8d_jccXqyeFs94HZjy4yy1WVOsMP6VnbRPAL3qsbQX9Cn6pEwCqgMR9jLojEPTrUN3hcvygCiWLgZBReCVCUOC-mnFegRTcMUjyrpuW9kD2tSIiIo338CU1e8/s1600/37666029_10215543919701395_5304605921358381056_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4GtU8CPGr8-6bkhFyK8d_jccXqyeFs94HZjy4yy1WVOsMP6VnbRPAL3qsbQX9Cn6pEwCqgMR9jLojEPTrUN3hcvygCiWLgZBReCVCUOC-mnFegRTcMUjyrpuW9kD2tSIiIo338CU1e8/s400/37666029_10215543919701395_5304605921358381056_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along The Kamm Traverse. You can see the cliffs on the left below the<br />
steep grassy slopes. It sure was beautiful though.</td></tr>
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I gingerly made my way along the Kamm Traverse, aptly named after Ulrich Kamm the German hiker and long time Hardrock veteran who discovered the trail off some old mining maps. Making my way up this trail my heart rate was out of control and I was slow and full of anxiety and fear. Apparently this section was an old mining road bed of some sort but now the mountain was slowly reclaiming it. There were a few washout sections that you had to cross that were loose and sketchy and would make me winch with anxiety. I don't like heights but more so I don't feel comfortable with exposure and so far this course is proving to be a challenge in this regard. If you suffer from acrophobia then this honestly is not the run for you. I knew this going in having meticulously read through all of Matt Mahoney's write ups on his runs at Hardrock. He documented his runs and his training brilliantly on his website and I must have read those reports dozens of times. I was determined to face my fear and honestly I was controlling it well and getting through it but I was moving much slower then I had hoped. I was managing so many things so early in this run. Fear, altitude, nutrition, hydration, pace, heart rate, breathing, gear, weather and all the demons and doubt that accompany a 100 mile run. All of these things are magnified here and I found you just cannot let any of them go astray. It was a lot to juggle and manage but this is what I signed up for and paid money to do so no whining aloud. Then out of nowhere a runner passed me on my left. I'm almost certain it was Cody Reed. I was in sort of a malaise and he startled me. He was out training and simply ran his way along this trail as if it was no big thing. I was in awe as I watched him run on up the trail.<br />
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Once I entered the security of the trees I was able to relax a bit and focus on moving swiftly along the trail. Climbing along this unmarked trail it eventually intersects with the well worn Ice Lakes Trail that leads to the collection of ice cold glacier lakes that are found scattered within the shadow of Grant Swamp Pass and Pilot Knob. Once you intersect this trail you are faced with a 1,600 ft climb in a mile and half starting at a modest elevation of 11,200 ft. It's a long slog. The final pitch to the top is on all fours hand over hand. As I made my way slowly up this ascent it was almost high noon and high clouds were building and thunder began to echo over my shoulder. Day hikers were on their way down as no sane person would be caught dead up on top of the ridge with storms brewing. Well, except me and 139 other runners attempting to navigate this course. And just then a few runners came flying down the trail towards me one of them clanging a cow bell often heard during European ultras and ski events. It was none other then Jim Walmsley and a few of his Coconino Cowboys. He was shouting "go runner go runner" and as he got close to me I just simply said "hey thanks Jim" and then he shyly responded "you're welcome." It was so funny and made me smile. Here is arguably the best ultra runner in the world cheering a nobody on, me, as I slog up this mountain. It then occurred to me that all the pictures you see and fanfare of past Hardrock runs on Grant Swamp and all those spectators cheering on runners would not be there for me. I was the last runner and a storm scared everyone off the ridge so I was left alone to summit this mountain and navigate my way down the other side. It was somewhat of a buzz kill at first upon realizing it but I soon embraced my lone wolf status.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paying respect to Joel Zucker at his memorial by placing a rock on the pile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZhJJCT3nsjcGW8r0gWEcfj5zGls57_V_0nGVwIaQcKE2EGB6GdFdFle7gFQz7s8MdLOFrObmRsrrB8WVdBt7QTjROK7Q1taUmtXTCc1e_9LvJWhfaCE6ybZlAfxiDAZsOegPpINCzwM/s1600/37568264_10215543919661394_5347090217431990272_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZhJJCT3nsjcGW8r0gWEcfj5zGls57_V_0nGVwIaQcKE2EGB6GdFdFle7gFQz7s8MdLOFrObmRsrrB8WVdBt7QTjROK7Q1taUmtXTCc1e_9LvJWhfaCE6ybZlAfxiDAZsOegPpINCzwM/s400/37568264_10215543919661394_5347090217431990272_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The iconic Island Lake with thunder booming towards me. Seeing this<br />
with your own two eyes is mesmerizing. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Descending US Grant Swamp Pass down into it's basin heading towards Chapman Gulch you must go down the single sketchiest descent I have ever seen. Although I heard Kroger's without snow is equal or worse. I stood there alone at the top of that descent shouting F bombs and you gotta be kidding me's for several minutes before I could compose myself to sit down and inch down it. This was a scree descent void of scree because all the runners have pushed it all down to the bottom and the result is a sheer granite wall with dust on it at a 60% slope that dropped about 100 ft where the scree actually was and then it was another 200 ft to the bottom. In the counter clockwise years I just cannot comprehend trying to climb up this at mile 90 of the run in the dark.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jEpwDMyjzBDyr2ZoCkdLW2fKSQJCpqViISiVhiA1VCNKKdpYLL1-vegN5Mqr3IqTpNIn8xF2CEjQnSRrPz8qeUmGOEcaw72QWf90TdO283QYHTAsdeX8sLNvD-yZFsjW-aI5EnEDFrY/s1600/37488396_10215543918861374_2880637232601890816_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jEpwDMyjzBDyr2ZoCkdLW2fKSQJCpqViISiVhiA1VCNKKdpYLL1-vegN5Mqr3IqTpNIn8xF2CEjQnSRrPz8qeUmGOEcaw72QWf90TdO283QYHTAsdeX8sLNvD-yZFsjW-aI5EnEDFrY/s400/37488396_10215543918861374_2880637232601890816_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing on top of US Grant Swamp Pass and trying to figure out how to<br />
descend down this cliff without serious injury or worse. <br />
It was a "check the shorts" descent for sure. Oscars Pass<br />
looming in the far distance which is the third climb.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I stood there on that pass all alone with thunder rumbling and the cold force of a strong gale which seemed to nudge me towards the cliff like descent. The thought crossed my mind for a split second of turning around and going back. That's how bad the descent looked to me. I quickly brushed that aside though and gently slid down on my backside using my poles as a third leg to slow the slide down. I have gone done some scary steep trails before but nothing and I mean nothing as sketchy as this. Doing this for the first time during the event I would not recommend. After what seemed like an hour I made my way over towards the left where I could see some loose scree and what looked like a softer way down even if I fell. Every inch I covered towards the bottom seemed like a monumental achievement. Getting to the scree where I could sort of step push my way down was like bliss. Finally I made it to the first part of the basin, a cairn marked trail that seemed flat but it was all large rocks and boulders. There were three steps to this basin or levels that you had to descend down. And as the rain lightly fell I seemed to be making progress moving forward and loosing altitude which was a welcoming thing. I reached the third level of the basin and stopped and turned around to marvel at this place.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxad0S1YRF7OZd470M4c_nsE19dBi9DIU_p6E26HltV6wcm1U6XX69nmTCbmzitubSa5h7gquqXL6a0i3EiwuWdUtoBASRwM4tN3lwixPglRkhf8qE90AdhfYvUC1dJxxvIUEAGTiCN-s/s1600/37549568_10215543918421363_2760414273283817472_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxad0S1YRF7OZd470M4c_nsE19dBi9DIU_p6E26HltV6wcm1U6XX69nmTCbmzitubSa5h7gquqXL6a0i3EiwuWdUtoBASRwM4tN3lwixPglRkhf8qE90AdhfYvUC1dJxxvIUEAGTiCN-s/s400/37549568_10215543918421363_2760414273283817472_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staring in awe at where I came from. The trail weaved above the cliffs<br />
on the left and Grant Swamp is in the center notch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Finally I hit tree line and the trail become softer with pine needles and more dirt so I was able to run a bit in here. The trail then turned into more like double track and more road bed like so more running ensued. I was starting to see signs posted for the aid station at Chapman Gulch. I was so happy to run into this aid station even though I felt lousy and slow. I was the only runner there and the volunteers again were so welcoming and kind. This group of volunteers comes up from New Mexico every year and they camp here for several nights and set this station up. They were beyond amazing and helpful. I sat and ate and chatted with them for as long as I felt I needed. I had to take care of self but I was exhausted and super fatigued and I was only at mile 18. My next objective is just get to Telluride where my crew of Janine, Kiran, and Phil would be. Just get to them was my focus. So up I went and hiked up to Ophir Road and towards the third climb up Oscar's Pass, a steep exposed three thousand foot monster.<br />
<br />
I left the access road out of Chapman Gulch and turned right onto a primitive steep jeep road called Ophir Pass Road. I thought to myself "this is a road?" It's a road if you you have a jeep or a high clearance four wheel drive truck. I found myself struggling badly just climbing up this road to get to the gate where Oscars Pass was. Then from behind me I heard a voice say "hey are you a runner?" I responded with a "yeah I'm doing the race" but I was to tired to turn around. The gentleman ran up along side me and I immediately recognized him as Dakota Jones another world class ultra runner. I said "oh hey you're Dakota Jones right?" He said yes and smiled shyly and he asked me how I was doing and I told him bluntly that I have had better days. He smiled and said "yeah Hardrock can do that to you." He then proceeded to give me words of encouragement as we walked up this road and I congratulated him on winning the Kendall Mountain Run the week prior. He seemed genuinely appreciative of my congratulations. He was a very humble and genuine person who listened when I talked. It was in that moment that I was reminded of what ultra running is and should always be and what this race is. It is a family. We all have bad days and bad runs and good days as well. The elite runners can socialize with the slowest of the slow runners. It's a true community. And seeing it unfold over these agonizing miles of mine was special to see. We finally reached the gate to start the climb and we fist bumped, smiled, and thanked each other.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRi6L3duAt9pAcU2wm7d1DFeNsma5gZWZN7cVzTsgU9V3iVVQpvHnC1xAKBMGuN2ETaBblFM91Hig_-_lJB2hy93tC0QTOwLESiyhL3unzyMLwI_xCDNGHPEQhZN-Bp-86BFyECoe3UUE/s1600/37421768_10215543917821348_6268811132824190976_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRi6L3duAt9pAcU2wm7d1DFeNsma5gZWZN7cVzTsgU9V3iVVQpvHnC1xAKBMGuN2ETaBblFM91Hig_-_lJB2hy93tC0QTOwLESiyhL3unzyMLwI_xCDNGHPEQhZN-Bp-86BFyECoe3UUE/s400/37421768_10215543917821348_6268811132824190976_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crawling up Oscars Pass I decided to take a picture of where I came from.<br />
Dead center of this picture is a brown streak, that is the descent from<br />
Grant Swamp Pass that I enjoyed so much. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
With Dakota's optimism I felt ready to tackle Oscars. I read many race reports about the black flies on this climb so I came prepared. I read they will eat you alive. So I brought my trusty REI head net that goes over your head to keep bugs off. My buddy Don Riley picked them up a few years back when we ran The Ring in Virginia because black flies can be bad there as well. Well let me say thank god I had that because right on cue the flies came swooping in and where relentless. I'm not talking about a couple of flies here I'm talking thirty or forty flies at one time on you at all times. If not for that head net I would have inhaled several of them and they would have been up my nose and in my eyes. You can't out run them because you are climbing a 25% grade so you are at their mercy. I slowly inched my way up the first few switchbacks and had to stop multiple times about every twenty feet or so and lean on my poles. I was sweating profusely and it was oddly humid here. The higher I got the more I had trouble breathing. I was panting and soon would take five steps and hunch over five steps and hunch over. I just came from the aid station and ate a bunch of food so I wasn't bonking I knew that. I just could not move. My heart rate was parabolic. So I sat down panting and huffing. So then I laid down on the trail in the dirt trying to stretch my body out and relax. The flies swarmed me like a dead carcass on the road. How fitting really. The flies were the least of my worries though. Laying there I knew the reality of my situation. I was in trouble, my race was all but over, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I don't know how long I was there. But I made the call to turn around and seek help. I walked back down to Chapman Gulch aid station and officially dropped from the run. The volunteers there later told me they were not surprised and expected me to come back. They knew I was in trouble from the minute I initially came into the aid station. They didn't show it though and were so very helpful about getting me back out there.<br />
<br />
The volunteers told me I had acute mountain sickness or at least all the signs of it. It didn't matter really as most runners get a bit of that during this event I think anyway. All I could think about was my three friends who came all this way out here to support me and having to inform them I pulled the plug. I felt horrible for that even though I know they get it, but its still not an easy pill to swallow. I was so happy Janine, Phil and Kiran came out here to help me. It meant the world to me. Sitting in that chair with thunder still rumbling around as they packed up the aid station I then turned my thoughts to the last six months of training. All those miles and all that vertical and all that sweat and all those sacrifices my family made for me to be here and all I can show for it was twenty miles. The privilege of running this event when so many people have waited years and years to get in. I sat there staring into the woods with all those thoughts and emotions swirling around in my head. But through it all, it came down to I just was not ready for an event of this magnitude. I wasn't fit enough and I should have acclimated for several weeks more and done much more training on the course. I was as fit as I ever was and I strongly believe I could of PR'd on any of the other hundred mile course I have run in the past. But here it was not enough. This course and this place demanded much more. I really enjoyed my time here and made lasting memories and experiences with good friends that will linger long after I am gone.<br />
<br />
Hardrock is a special race, a very special race. You feel it when you're there and I honestly miss it very much. I daydream about my time there and rewind and relive snippets of it on a daily basis. I know Kiran, Janine and Phil all felt the love there during their time there as well. It doesn't really matter if you get in and run this race. It's far bigger then a single entry. If I never get in again I'll be at peace with that. But I will be going back again at some point spectating, pacing, running, crewing, volunteering or soft rocking. The pull of that place is just so strong. Those mountains and those trails are just so incredible and should be experienced by every trail runner. Just do yourself a favor and go see it. You will not believe your eyes!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-15368357599728290442017-12-09T07:28:00.001-08:002017-12-09T07:42:13.688-08:00Wrapping Your Head Around The Unthinkable<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was at mile forty five of the Devil Dog 100 miler when I found out. It was a cold early December late afternoon and I came into the start/finish after my second loop cold, tired, and wanting something hot to eat. It was December 2nd otherwise known as States and Hardrock lottery day. I put in for both but thought nothing of it as the chances of being picked are so small it almost doesn't warrant much attention. I had maybe a 3% chance for WS and a paltry 0.8% for Hardrock. That is when Laura Mooney walked up to me as a sat down to rummage through my drop bag. Here is that conversation.</div>
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Laura: Hey how are you doing? I have something exciting I want to tell you! (smiling and pulling out her phone)</div>
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Me: Hey Laura, I'm doing ok just tired and wet (mumble mumble grumpy face etc..)</div>
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Laura: I have a text I want to show you! (shows me the screen on her phone which read this)</div>
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<i>If you see Bryan Slotterbach</i></div>
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<i> tell him he just got into Hardrock.</i></div>
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Me: Wha? What? How? Huh? What the fuuuuck?? (staring into oblivion)</div>
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I did not understand. I did not compute. I was almost halfway through a much tougher 100 miler then I envisioned and I'm being told I just got into arguably the most difficult 100 miler in the world (excluding Barkley which is not technically a 100 miler and is it's own thing). Laura's boyfriend another good friend Mike Yoder came over and said the text was from Tom Chobot and is legit. He would not joke about something like that. I sat there in a daze. Caught between the next 55 miles of the race I was in and trying to process this news. Honestly I was in shock. In my head all I could think about were all those Hardrock youtube videos I had watched over and over. I didn't feel joy but dread. I just kept having conversations to myself in my head that went something like. </div>
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Me in my head : "How can I possibly do this race? It's Hardrock! I am not worthy? I have done a few hard mountain hundreds but they are nothing and I mean nothing compared to the ultimate high altitude mountain run. Dear god what have I done?"</div>
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So for the next eighteen hours and three loops of Devil Dog I just tried to wrestle in my head the thought of doing a 100 miles in the San Juan"s. It was motivation to finish let me tell you.</div>
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I did finish in 30:08 and it was a great way to finish off my year of running. I had a great spring, a horrible and lousy summer filled with drops and DNF's and a great fall. </div>
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The three and half hour drive home up 95 was filled with tears and emotion. Finishing 100's always leaves me an emotional mess. It's funny that way. It's almost like I feel fragile emotionally. It's clearly the lack of sleep and exhaustion of going 100 miles on foot through the cold night, hitting mental highs and lows, hunger, pain, feelings of I'm not going to make it to feelings of yes I will, and joy and elation. It's here I would also envision for the first time myself coming into Silverton and kissing the rock. My god... Huddled over, tears of joy, seeing the clock with a small amount of time still on it. What would that honestly be like? I start picturing it! And then start balling in my car on the highway. That vision with my current emotional state opens the floodgates. That's when I start laughing at myself and to myself. Hey get yourself together dude. Snap out of it.</div>
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It's now December 9th as I type this. A week has gone by and the shock is still there. I have begun the history lesson of this event. It's time to study. Like a mid term paper that is due or a big final exam. Everything and anything must be absorbed and understood. The history must be read to fully understand the core of this run. How the mountains were formed. The history of the district. The mining and the suffering of the miners. How the course flows and why. The altitude and the logistics. The trails and how they were engineered and by whom. An entire encyclopedia of information must be understood before even pinning on that bib. Respect. Before actual physical training begins, one must have a full knowledge of this place. That is how I feel. Otherwise how can you train if you don't know? This is like no other challenge that I have done. I have eight months. And I will be using this blog to catalog my feelings and training. What I do love is sinking my teeth into a goal. And I love the process of training for that goal. I have drawn up an initial training plan which includes more mileage and more vert and more speed work then I have ever done. But I know I can do it. It will require getting back to 4 am runs during the week and possibly some doubles as I hit peak weeks. But I know I can do it. I know I can. But for now I'll relax and enjoy the holidays. Run enough to keep some fitness and then come January, it's on.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IjNXpzACGE9CpsbbA97wau8HBzJAovohX93ozEAqj3trR8HzuaR1Nw_T4oP_l8t00UBhNsLYPTiG4BAm9HftNTTfPvNXtHPCBdJYfBQNuOOjTNsasCVj-Dm0NyBktALzMhExSGx-2hI/s1600/Silverton-1895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="600" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IjNXpzACGE9CpsbbA97wau8HBzJAovohX93ozEAqj3trR8HzuaR1Nw_T4oP_l8t00UBhNsLYPTiG4BAm9HftNTTfPvNXtHPCBdJYfBQNuOOjTNsasCVj-Dm0NyBktALzMhExSGx-2hI/s400/Silverton-1895.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #b2afab; font-family: "open sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Looking northeast into Silverton, Colorado, in 1895. Image taken from the base of Sultan Mountain. Photo courtesy of the San Juan County Historical Society of Silverton, Colorado. <i><b>Courtesy of iRunfar</b></i></span></td></tr>
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<br />Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-33510848856955696042017-08-13T13:41:00.001-07:002017-08-18T11:57:19.388-07:00The Eastern States Pendulum<br />
It's been a long while since I wrote a blog. But after my second failed attempt at Eastern States 100 I just found that I had way too many things floating around in my tired brain. I needed to get them out. I will keep it short and sweet and hope my thoughts can and will help other mid to back of the pack runners tackle this race in the future. As for me, I will not return to run next year. Maybe to help out and pace, I don't know. Not because I don't like the race or the RD or the trails. I love them all! But because I don't see much changing for me there. Yup, the ole definition of insanity routine.<br />
<br />
My Maryland buddies Casey and Don spent the weekend driving me around and helping me out and for that I cannot thank them enough. I feel I let them down more then I let myself down. It is very hard for me to convey that to them. I feel they know it though. I got as far as I did because of their help. I only got to mile 32 however and like Don comically pointed out to me "hey you got three times further then last year!" Which made me chuckle at how absurd that is considering I only completed 30% of the race!<br />
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As the sun was setting on our way home and we hit the PA turnpike southbound I kept trying to come up with how to describe this race and this course. How would you explain it to folks who have never run here. How do I explain the course to my wife who does not run and asks seemingly very simple straightforward questions such as "So what happened?" or "What makes it so hard?" Insert my blank stare. Great questions but I am almost at a loss but I know exactly what the answers are but I just can't spit it out. Frustrating really. So the next morning it hit me.<br />
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I think of Eastern States like Edgar Allan Poe's Pit And The Pendulum. It's exactly the same. It's terror. It's torture and torment. It's a long drawn out nightmare. You almost at times welcome your demise. The course eats at you. It picks at you. Looking for a way to get in. Swinging slowly and slowly as the blade gets closer and closer all the time while you watch it getting closer and closer and there isn't a fucking thing you can do about it. Your body is getting cut and bruised and banged around and the oppressive humidity wears on you sapping your leg strength and raising your heart rate to anaerobic levels but yet you are moving so damn slow. "How is this possible?" "I have trained here I have run these trails I know this course why is this happening?!!" I have finished Massanutten 100 twice I did the 2016 Grindstone 100 where it rained for thirty straight cold hours. And yet I can't move on this course. I am completely immobilized for the second straight year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Z_5OGUgra4uKNPxG6aQyqTP9iKn_hk7yRkhvuEOxFDqhHmxwHaaINXOfvcTN2Kb5XJqdnpyLmcUYnJTDg_orFVuE4HYoiRh70IWX4nnKmH3TRMZ6Go4ULacpgPMkdh2MzR6flZkDQUA/s1600/18326818._SX540_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="363" data-original-width="540" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Z_5OGUgra4uKNPxG6aQyqTP9iKn_hk7yRkhvuEOxFDqhHmxwHaaINXOfvcTN2Kb5XJqdnpyLmcUYnJTDg_orFVuE4HYoiRh70IWX4nnKmH3TRMZ6Go4ULacpgPMkdh2MzR6flZkDQUA/s400/18326818._SX540_.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A slow and painful demise. Source Google.</td></tr>
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And here is the beauty of it. Other races have longer climbs, rockier trails, more mud blah blah blah. But so far from what I see no other east coast 100 miler (excluding Barkley, of course) has what this course can throw at you. They talk about the Western States Killing Machine. It's a great read and can be found <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2014/06/the-western-states-killing-machine-part-one.html" target="_blank">here</a>. This course has an eerily similar character trait. The first thirty miles are simply some of the most ruthless and nasty trails you will find. Survive that and manage those miles well and you will then be able to start actually running at mile thirty three. Easier said then done. The classic problem is your pace. You look down and see your overall pace at eighteen minute miles. It's shocking and tough to swallow at first.You are fresh but slowing as the miles tick off so you push and risk blowing up. Or you stay really chill and try to just hike and not go hard and you risk blowing time and not making the initial Hyner cutoff. It's funny, you look at the elevation profile and it looks tough sure but until you actually have experienced those trails you just don't know. My plan this year was to really take it easy during those first thirty. Save myself for the running that is coming up. Problem is the cutoffs are the tightest during the first third of the race. It's a catch twenty two. I found myself scolding myself in my head! "News flash, you can't take it easy you stupid idiot!"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sINPFSpyBbn-vCFqZfLSlo0f8Jime8lTfIKLYSFrsBSxksTKPs9aTbWPXfyUXnA9zp2ite5WfXeKRETt1Db0sEsNkjNP4Q8Kf6XmvHAtsP5vDZCZxJLG_h5n7LI5CvNkL5lfECV_vns/s1600/18765965_10212149667967223_3582149002635093101_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sINPFSpyBbn-vCFqZfLSlo0f8Jime8lTfIKLYSFrsBSxksTKPs9aTbWPXfyUXnA9zp2ite5WfXeKRETt1Db0sEsNkjNP4Q8Kf6XmvHAtsP5vDZCZxJLG_h5n7LI5CvNkL5lfECV_vns/s640/18765965_10212149667967223_3582149002635093101_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 9 vista. Taken during our training run there in July.</td></tr>
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<br />
The heat.<br />
<br />
So the starting temperature I think was 71 or something. Nice right? Sure if you are sitting in a lounge chair by the pool. The dew point was climbing into the seventies however and the humidity was rising. Once we entered the forest canopy it was stagnant, stale, and windless. And that is one of the really sneaky aspects of this race. The canyons there and the surrounding thick forest seems to trap the heat from the days before. No wind reaches these areas. So the air just sits there and the moisture from the thick mossy soil and many creeks moisten that air. Couple that with the already increasing high dew point and you are faced with your first puzzle to solve. These hollows are what you run in and out of all day and each climb starts in a hollow where you face these temperatures and conditions each time. I thought about this for twelve hours over thirty miles. I kept asking myself "Why is it so damn hot at the start of each climb then when you get to the top it's a little cooler? Doesn't heat rise? What is this some sort of alternate universe the cold air rises and hot air sinks?" It took me all day to figure it out. I think it's a unique local phenominon. It's only here where I experienced that trapped air. "Why is my heart rate spiking so high right now?" "I can't be working that hard can I?" Confusion sets in. You increase your effort and pace. You burn up calories twice as fast as you normally would. You create an early caloric deficit. You find yourself sweating buckets. The Western States article talks about the buzzsaw, but here at this race, it's the pendulum that has started it's swing.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHH8cZhnQDGg0uVqauK7PDqTWlkgNQ-WhaU9HhDXZxj3MX1-Xms3whTEbmpvb0cwS_3ttDdcVHp7yc-xNsOM5-efejxWIOgNAD7vHhnSlnLbCI1SDo0fieKjyIcZGY_arwYyy1-32cSfk/s1600/20748115_10211451700100777_1980458034387632036_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHH8cZhnQDGg0uVqauK7PDqTWlkgNQ-WhaU9HhDXZxj3MX1-Xms3whTEbmpvb0cwS_3ttDdcVHp7yc-xNsOM5-efejxWIOgNAD7vHhnSlnLbCI1SDo0fieKjyIcZGY_arwYyy1-32cSfk/s320/20748115_10211451700100777_1980458034387632036_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving mile 18 Lower Pine Bottom in shaky shape. Pic Jim Blandford</td></tr>
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<br />
Those trails.<br />
<br />
I'm from PA born and raised. I train on the AT. I know rocks. I love rocks and they love me. I'm at home there. Mountains and rocks and PA trails. The trails in and around Waterville are not like the AT or the Massanuttens or the Tuscarora. This is loose slate and when it's wet its like ice. Mud pumps up in between the tree roots. The loose slate pieces are almost leftover from logging or mining. Seemingly just dumped here with little care. Then the trails built on top. Sometimes when you step in between two pieces the jagged edges pierce the sides of your shoes grazing the sides of your macerated and softened feet. As you pick your way down the descents, you hear the sound of the smaller pieces tumbling behind you and repositioning themselves for the next poor soul. When you kick a rock it follows you, end over end and often times hits you a second time, bouncing off the outside of your ankle or again on the side of the foot. It's as if the rocks don't even like you here. "The rocks are against me?" "Why is this happening?" Whoosh...Whoosh as the pendulum continues it's descent.<br />
<br />
The climbs.<br />
<br />
I'm a climber or at least until I run here then I'm a pathetic child. It's seems the exertion that I put out to climb up those mountains puts my heart rate at redline. You see the climbs I do well at are the long slow grinding type where you can get into a rhythm. The climbs down in Virgina are that type. Long but not super steep. The climbs here are short and very very steep. And it just repeats over and over for the first thirty miles. I find that I just can't get into any kind of groove on these climbs. Add the mud, the rocks, the humidity and that so called short climb turns into a death slog where you find yourself sitting on a rotten log a third of the way up catching your breath. And the clock is ticking. On a training run I would never think to sit down on a climb. During a race of course not. But here I sat down more times then I can remember. Thirty seconds here a minute there really adds up. I used that time wisely however. I ate and drank. The fact is if you have to sit down anywhere on trail here you will not finish. Unless of course you are late in the race and are hours ahead of any cutoff. By all means relax and take a breather. Climbing a 30% slope is much different the climbing a 20% slope. It's huge and you legs will feel it. I really struggle pushing 25% or greater. I could also stand to loose a few pounds. I'm sure that contributes to my struggles in some form.<br />
<br />
The clock.<br />
<br />
As I said I am a mid pack to back of the pack runner. Meaning I finish in the fifty percentile range of entrants. So I am not fast nor super slow but average I suppose. I have never felt threatened in any race by cutoffs. Never. Not once. But here for some reason they seem to be right over my shoulder. And honestly, that wears on you mentally. I'm not use to it and to be blunt I really don't like it. I have enough fucking things to worry about and the clock adds another layer of burden. But tough shit, that's the way it is so deal with it. On Saturday I covered the first 32 miles in twelve hours. Yes twelve hours. I have to say that out loud. TWELVE hours.. When I ran Manitou's Revenge in June several weeks after MMT100 in very similar weather conditions I covered the first 31 miles in exactly ten hours. What? I dropped at Manitou as well. And Manitou is arguably, mile per mile, the hardest 50 miler in the country. It took me almost two hours longer at Eastern States to cover basically the same distance. If this was last year I would not have made it past the mile 25 aid station as I did not make the cutoff that was imposed there from the year prior. This is what I am currently trying to dissect and analyze. The old saying about 100 milers is to start slow and go slower. That doesn't work here. I actually tried to do just that. Save myself for the middle sections. The sweepers caught up to me sitting on a moss covered rock in the middle of an ice cold stream with my feet and calves submerged in the water. Talk about pathetic ending to a race. My response to them when I saw them was "what took you so long?" I was almost glad. As my pacer Casey often says, "sometimes you eat the miles and sometimes the miles eat you."<br />
<br />
The bugs.<br />
<br />
Actually they weren't so bad until the Browns Run Climb. A six mile ascent along, well, Browns Run. The trail crisscrossed the creek back and forth and the gnats just suffocated your face. As if I needed any more misery. Inhaling gnats for six miles was just lovely. There was also the mosquitoes that would buzz in and out of you ear. Bugs have never bothered me before in a race. But of course here they loved me.<br />
<br />
Eastern States. So you want to run it? It truly is a great event. One of country's most badass 100 milers just on the finisher rate alone. A truly wild and remote wilderness experience. It's not a race that you can typically just sandwich in between others as a fill in. It's not a race you can just get by on undertrained legs and squeak out a finish. It's an event that when you go into it you can't have any lingering injuries or issues otherwise the course will expose them. Your mental game must be as sharp as your physical one. Course management and taking care of self is a big deal in any 100 miler but really important here. Graduate level race? Without question. The race should 100% be a Hardrock qualifier. But that will be up to the RD Dave Walker to apply for it and for the Hardrock board to approve it. From what I was told the board did not approve the request last year. I scratch my head at that. After four years of this event, I think it's pretty clear that this east coast 100 miler is certainly worthy of a Hardrock ticket. I finished Grindstone last year and this race is much harder then that one and Grindstone, of course, is one of the great 100 milers in the east and the Northeast's only Hardrock qualifier. So what are you waiting for? Sign up and come on out to Pennsyltucky! But don't hesitate because this race sells out fast and at some point very soon I predict will need to go to a lottery.Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-80226481100711641052016-11-01T15:29:00.001-07:002016-11-06T11:59:01.363-08:00Living in Darkness. The Grindstone 100Once again I was entombed in the blackness. My pacer Kiran and I had just finally crested the top of an arduous climb called Crawford mountain and into the cold embrace of a very blustery north wind. It was a little after 10 pm Saturday night and the rain had finally subsided for a bit. The second night had fallen upon us. I was pretty much reduced to a moaning shuffle from here on in as each foot fall would bring me to winch as I envisioned the detached layers of skin shifting like tectonic plates on the bottoms of my macerated feet. As we shuffled along my demons shuffled along with us in the inky blackness just outside my peripheral vision. They had made their presence known, I knew they were there waiting for the right moment. I thought of dropping at the next aid station, Dry Branch Gap mile 87. I was fighting that decision. "Yes, yes I'll drop!" I thought. "But no no no I can't, I have come all this way!" I did a quick assessment on my systems and I determined that I was not injured in any way and my stomach was in good shape so then I asked myself again "How can you drop if you are ok?" I had no legitimate reason to drop. Our pace was painfully slow. My legs long since blown from the muddy and slick seven mile descent on the Wild Oak Trail down into North River Gap. My brain was in a fog and simple thoughts were becoming harder to process. My eyelids were finally succumbing to the weight of two nights of running. Then it hit me! I need to sleep. Yes I would do what I always said I would never do. Just 20 minutes or maybe 30. I will sleep at Dry Branch aid station but I won't tell Kiran until we get there. I will beg the volunteers to let me sleep. We stumbled into the Dry Branch aid station a little before 11 pm I sat down in front of a warm campfire head back and eyes shut. Lights out. <br />
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<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;">
<em>I have been one acquainted with the night. </em></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;">
<em>I have walked out in rain<span style="font-family: "cambria"; font-size: 12pt;">—</span>and back in rain. </em></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;">
<em>I have outwalked the furthest city light.</em> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>-Robert Frost</em></div>
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<span lang="">I signed up for Grindstone as soon as it opened. My reasoning was simply to run the three big 100 milers in the Northeast/Mid Atlantic region which are Massanutten, Eastern States, and Grindstone. My main focus was on MMT and Eastern with Grindstone a distant thought as it was so many months out. MMT came and went and I ran so well there and the conditions were in my favor being the coldest MMT on record. I prefer cold weather running. I then decided to show up and run Worlds End 100K the following weekend up in "nowheresville" aka Forksville Pennsylvania. I finished the race with a finish line DNF. I crossed the mat 14 minutes past the cutoff completely drained. I was proud of the effort though. I completed the 65 mile course but came up a bit short. That race left me gutted and looking back I think I carried it with me for many months. I'm still glad I did it though. It taught me a lot about my body and mind and what we are capable of. Eastern States came along and turned out to be a complete and total shit show mess due to the oppressive heat and humidity. My body just could not handle it and I dropped shamefully at mile 12 scratching my head and wondering what happened. Some days you just don't have it and I didn't have anything in Waterville that weekend. I then got antsy and signed up for The Ring in early September to run with my buddies Casey and Don with somewhat eerily similar results as States. I wound up dropping at mile 35 beaten and broken. I bonked horribly and became dehydrated in the Massanuttens. I cramped the worst I have every cramped and I left there low on confidence and questioning if I had the guts to continue doing long winded affairs. <br />
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So after a long hot summer of failures, I looked to Grindstone to restore my confidence for the long adventure. I studied the course, the aid stations, read every and all race reports on the Eco-X website, studied past AS split times from friends who ran it previously, studied all the uploaded runs of the course on Strava, and developed a race strategy and an aid station time sheet to follow. I even uploaded the course on my Ambit3 plotting the AS locations so there was no way no how I could get lost or go off course. I did my homework. I wasn't going to screw this up. <br />
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I drove down with Pat Heine on Thursday from Bethlehem Pennsylvania. (Pat would later PR, besting his time from last year by over 10 hours! He came in 10th place. Amazing! But he can write about that.) We met up with several other friends running the race Casey Fisher and Don Riley at the Howard Johnson's in Staunton.<br />
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<span lang=""><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5spwgGwOkSUp-UtPVMzr7DZBz9LXRvJ0szX3MDL48GCaAeTLdGVnegADoxnb6nuN06EqkfU17P6WTz7MleD9LCptJefU8Q5hORYCv-l3BWOOF27v5kwf8U9_nTT7E2tJwqi0HcosEP8/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5spwgGwOkSUp-UtPVMzr7DZBz9LXRvJ0szX3MDL48GCaAeTLdGVnegADoxnb6nuN06EqkfU17P6WTz7MleD9LCptJefU8Q5hORYCv-l3BWOOF27v5kwf8U9_nTT7E2tJwqi0HcosEP8/s200/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8p2HHx8pkzpfrDkPWODCuZvc4WxehZFeEztx97FI0C8PuarDYpJoVyvj6SB0fzrAIBT4z1WDRhJsTq3DX9LowHStwNuRzC5yMKAvjg0oBistfbGSYsq0EwJFdmT2XfjgTjeQd23pPQY0/s1600/IMG_1213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8p2HHx8pkzpfrDkPWODCuZvc4WxehZFeEztx97FI0C8PuarDYpJoVyvj6SB0fzrAIBT4z1WDRhJsTq3DX9LowHStwNuRzC5yMKAvjg0oBistfbGSYsq0EwJFdmT2XfjgTjeQd23pPQY0/s320/IMG_1213.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyaNgm5EGoKRtP-xFdo5BXwSnyjiO8dW95yZzwLsZKeInQZwpM0FBE5CQEFJuT-mEM5Qr2WhcMxEk13DzrMmNdHAA6BeDGeS34icLXjhM9WJjQZKsBbgLx7q8zdiWyWHuxlUX8LpB5Ebc/s1600/IMG_1223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyaNgm5EGoKRtP-xFdo5BXwSnyjiO8dW95yZzwLsZKeInQZwpM0FBE5CQEFJuT-mEM5Qr2WhcMxEk13DzrMmNdHAA6BeDGeS34icLXjhM9WJjQZKsBbgLx7q8zdiWyWHuxlUX8LpB5Ebc/s1600/IMG_1223.JPG" /></a> We walked around town, drank beer, and had dinner. You know typical pre race stuff for old people like us. On Friday morning we woke up to light rain, had breakfast at some diner on the outskirts of town, and made our way over to the camp. Packet pickup had a great vibe which is always a tell tale sign of a great race. As we ate lunch we had some great conversations with so many friends. The lodge had a feel of a family reunion. I was able to finally meet Gary Horn aka Sandy who flew up from Texas. He belongs to the Runningahead.com forum where you post your runs and discuss in a forum. Sorta like an old version of Strava. He was here for the Hardrock qualifier. He ran Hardrock in 2014 and DNF'd around mile 85 or so. He was on the waitlist up until a day or so before the race when he received the call from Dale Garland. What an amazing story. Ultrarunning gives you these great moments like this to meet and talk with great people that you would never otherwise meet. I was feeling calm and rather confident for this one as we made our way back to the car in the rain to rest a bit before the 6 pm start. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL69k-rcVFszYZY6zVSanQEVLl9NlS3cfBjBxKYhK6cLUFJaN7mXbREwf5vrlLPjmdWnr-ph06GI-SJRGMXY-nOM_zQX87JYIZ4R-u2b28mdPj6Vp8ij7-u9rYNpRSGTCbKysjiAb02IA/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL69k-rcVFszYZY6zVSanQEVLl9NlS3cfBjBxKYhK6cLUFJaN7mXbREwf5vrlLPjmdWnr-ph06GI-SJRGMXY-nOM_zQX87JYIZ4R-u2b28mdPj6Vp8ij7-u9rYNpRSGTCbKysjiAb02IA/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Jun and Otto. Otto would cap off an incredible year </em><br />
<em>completing the Grand Slam then finishing Grindstone fueled</em><br />
<em>on Sunny D.</em></td></tr>
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At the start line I was able to find Maria Campos from New York City who also belongs to the group TrailWhippass. We both agreed to keep each other company for the first night as neither one of us has run here before. She was running the race no crew no pacer and I was going to go that route but thankfully found a pacer in Kiran Koons, a running buddy from West Chester Pa. I ran into Matt Wilson and Josh Finger at the start as well. We chatted a bit and it's always great to see other PA runners. With a light rain falling and fog rolling in we were off running through and around the camp. Those first ten miles I honestly can not remember very much of the trail. It was raining, getting dark, and actually on the humid side so I was actually sweating a good deal. By the time Maria and I reached the stone road for the Elliot Knob climb it was completely black out and super foggy. Maria took off up the climb and I lost sight of her as a few folks passed me. I just took my time climbing and trying to keep my heart rate in check. This was a long slog of a climb but being fresh certainly helped. As we neared the top others were bombing down on the left hand side to the single track portion of the Elliot Knob Trail wishing us climbers good luck. At the top there was a long line for the hole punch. I didn't mind it as it gave me a chance to take a breather and drink and eat a little. Standing there in line I could not help but dwell on the enormity of what we were all doing. Running 101 miles in the Blue Ridge mountains over two nights in the rain and fog is a pretty mighty task and I was thankful that I was able to do this. My wife and kids and dog were five hours away at home and here I was on top of a mountain three states away with ninety mountain miles left to traverse. But my confidence was rising as each mile ticked off and I was feeling good as I jogged down that fog filled and rutted out road down to the trail head entrance. <br />
<br />
Hey Maria waited for me! I figured I was going it all alone from here on out but she graciously stopped and waited for me to catch up. I was pretty thankful for that as having company at night is a good thing. We chatted as we picked our way across those wet and unstable rocks on Elliot's. We seemed to be making good progress as the trail smoothed out and became more runnable heading down to the road. Crossing the road you get a two and half mile one thousand foot climb up to Crawford Mountain then down the other side to route 250 and then into Dowell Draft AS at mile 22. It was on this section I ran into Francesco and Aaryn from Ontario. I recognized them from Paul Encarnacion's Eastern States 100 video from the last two years. They are fresh off Fat Dog 120 in August and are down here running this beast of a race. Truly remarkable. We chatted away and Aaryn expressed concern about finishing the race as she was having some issues (she would later drop but her husband would finish strong). I lost sight of Maria again as she passed a few runners and pulled away. But low and behold she waited for me again down the trail and we continued on our way down into Dowell's Draft aid station as the rain continued on. </span></span><br />
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Dowell's was an energetic place at 12:30 Saturday morning. It was a joy to finally get access to a drop bag and a nice clean towel to wipe my face off. It was also a nice surprise to see some Philly runners Clare and Lauren standing there waiting for their runner. They smiled and cheered me on and mentioned how great I looked! LOL.. lies all lies!! But it did make me feel good. I came into this race with a different nutrition plan then usual. I decided a week prior to try the Ensure meal shakes the ones with 350 calories in 8 ounces. They pack a wallop for sure and I actually found I liked the vanilla flavored ones. It makes so much sense from a cost and caloric perspective. To me they were far superior then any gel I could have taken. I have an iron clad stomach though so I can tolerate almost anything. I still sipped Tailwind in between aid stations for the slow drip of simple calories and would eat real food when I came across it at the aid station's. I was determined to not get behind on the nutrition front. I stashed two shakes in each drop bag one for outbound and one for inbound. I almost drank both shakes at Dowell's though and had to stop myself as the first one went down far to easy. It was raining really good here so I just filled up my bottles, quickly ate food, wiped my face off and Maria and I headed off into the foreboding black night.<br />
<br />
Up and Up and over and around we went as we ascended towards Hankey Mountain. This stretch of trail while fairly smooth and runnable went on for a long while. We weren't running it, not here and not now anyway but I'm sure many have and did. We climbed with a strong sense of purpose. Somewhere along the way we both heard a very large noise echoing up from the dark hollow below. It sounded like a large rock hitting against another large rock. Maria screamed and jumped right behind me almost as if using me as some kind of human shield or something. Here is this tough as nails Latina from NYC willing to run this race alone basically pushing me off the mountain in order to get away from a rock. We looked down in the direction of the noise. It was a long way down off to the right and our light beams appeared to shine down into oblivion never finding a bottom. I told her we just need to keep going and it was probably a bear down there trying to get away from us not necessarily coming towards us up the side of the mountain. I'm pretty sure I also mentioned something to the tune of "we probably have already passed several bear we just didn't see them." I don't think that made her feel any better but in an odd way was comforting to me. <br />
<br />
Coming down the backside of Hankey Mountain we made our way into The Lookout Mt AS which I honestly do not remember. It was raining and foggy and it was close to 3 am so the miles blurred into my subconscious. As we were descending I kept thinking that we needed to find a wooden bridge. I saw pictures of it and previous race reports mentioned such a bridge. I told Maria we will be close to the road and North River Gap when we find this bridge. Then not long after saying this we hit a wooden bridge! Small victories in races of this length have a habit of becoming really really big victories. The road was next, then lots of cars and trucks along the road, then lights then North River AS mile 35. I felt a big relief as this is a big spot with drop bags and the start of the signature climb of the course up The Wild Oak Trail. A climb I was excited to experience for the first time. The volunteers here were awesome. One guy set me up in a chair and got me hot pierogies and black coffee. I downed another Ensure, changed my socks, lubed the feet and changed out buffs. Maria was already up and ready to go so she said she wanted to start the climb to keep from getting cold and so it was here we parted ways. The sun would come up soon so I would have to go it alone from here on out until I picked up Kiran right here at North River 12 hours from now at mile 65.<br />
<br />
As I set off in the darkness I found myself completely alone with my thoughts. This is a seven mile climb with 3,000 ft of ascent and it took me 2 hours and 45 minutes to complete it. That is a long time to do a climb but I did share a small section of it with Doug from North Carolina. I caught up to him about a mile into it. We chatted briefly and it was nice to have a little company. I would eventually pull away from him though. This is a climb that you just sortof get into a groove and zone out on. There were some fairly steep sections for sure but mostly the grade wasn't overly vertical like some of the climbs I was used to training on in the mountains of Pennsylvania. But the length and amount of time spent on the climb was what ground you down and nearing the top I was certain I was close to being done only to find I still needed to climb a bit more. This tested my patience. It was here where many of the front runners came barreling down the trail heading inbound and heading home. It was nice to see others but it made me realize just how much I had left. I had a lot of work ahead of me. At one point I was convinced that I had traveled close to seven miles and the aid station should be coming up so I sheepishly asked one of the runners coming towards me if the station was close. His response "you have a little while to go." His blunt honestly was appreciated but I had to hold myself together a bit as I was starting to crack. Another runner who happened to be behind me not to far heard the runner answer me and I could here him mumble angry expletives to himself. Kinda funny to think about it now but it was not amusing then. It was starting to get lighter and lighter out and you could see the sky when you looked up the trail instead of just forest indicating we were getting close. And finally we had hit the top where the trail came to a junction and you could go left or continue straight/right to continue on along the rolling ridge with occasional wide open sections of meadow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_jUOBG70TtFnWYpgdtJ441NyQiiHPzYTPDRBnMTvzK0Lz19onXekd9prc1XcmJ531PaKk_ABkrJQZAcrocyeH77JNQFrVX9mLJq1h4IAwdFelSfULEVVCWf6bSW9LbWHQsVDHtVcf5o/s1600/IMG_1299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_jUOBG70TtFnWYpgdtJ441NyQiiHPzYTPDRBnMTvzK0Lz19onXekd9prc1XcmJ531PaKk_ABkrJQZAcrocyeH77JNQFrVX9mLJq1h4IAwdFelSfULEVVCWf6bSW9LbWHQsVDHtVcf5o/s400/IMG_1299.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Coming into the turnaround at Briery Branch Gap mile 51.</em></td></tr>
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Finally! I was finally able to start jogging this stretch only to find the double track dirt access road I was on was full of mud, washouts, and large standing pools of brown rain water. This lasted for M I L E S. This stretch was eight miles to the turnaround and of course eight miles back and in dry conditions would be a great place to chip away and get some time back. That was my plan at least in theory however executing that plan proved way more difficult. The only saving grace was that it was now dawn and I no longer needed to stare at my headlight beam on the ground. The rain picked up in intensity as I shuffled into the Little Bald aid station around 7:45 am Saturday morning. I inhaled some breakfast burrito, some coffee, thanked the awesome folks working there, fist bumped Jun Bermudez who was coming inbound and was on my way outbound to the turnaround. I felt good here jogging the downs and speed hiking the hills on this stretch. I would splash through the puddles and mud without a care in the world as trying to tip toe around the water and mud was simply wasting energy. Everything I had was soaked anyway so screw it. The cold water in the puddles actually felt good and perked me up a bit each time. Heading towards Reddish Knob I saw my Connecticut friend Charlotte coming inbound and smiling away. We high fived and yelled out to each other but I didn't want to stop as I was on a mission to get to the turnaround. (She is a beast finishing in just under 30 hours no crew and no pacer and I was so happy for her.) I made my way up to the cul de sac at the top of Reddish Knob only to find a few other runners looking for the bib punch. No punch was found as I later found out some local punks made off with it. So now it was simply follow this blacktop road about two miles all the way down to the aid station at Briery Branch Gap. I ran this road and passed many people walking which seemed odd to me. This was as easy as any gimmie section of a race could be and I was going to run this shit until I ran into a hill! I figured I have walked enough and I need to start running when given the opportunity. Halfway into it I realized I was passing my friend Don who I was surprised to see then a little way further I saw Casey and high fived him as he was climbing back up inbound and on his way home. Then I saw and heard the aid station and there was my pacer Kiran cheering and clapping me on! It was great to see her smile and I'm sure I complained to her to the tune of "damn this shit is hard man!" Too funny, but so true. She refilled my tailwind bottles and got my drop back and was a great help to me here lifting my spirits and giving me much needed mental energy for the return trip. Having a pacer that you know can never be underestimated in a tough race. I screwed around in this aid station way to long as the rain continued but I did slam another Ensure and some donuts and a few other food things. I also saw the Philly crew again Clare, Lauren and Rebekah and that was awesome seeing their smiling faces. They peppered me with encouragement and well wishes which was definitely appreciated. I also ran into my friend Gilbert Gray from Maryland. He was here to pace Aaryn from Ontario. So many familiar faces providing energy and happiness.<br />
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Only 50 miles left to go. The simple fact of knowing you are past the turnaround and each section of trail that you complete you won't need to see again is comforting to a degree. I'm heading in the direction of home, I don't need to go up to Reddish Knob or to the top of Elliot's Knob, these are positives. It's not going to be dark until at least mile 67 or so..These are the simple things I thought about. Anything positive to focus on is good. I was alone though. And being alone and tired and with the rain picking up can be taxing. This eight miles or so to the Little Bald AS is long but it does have some nice runnable dirt road. So I tried to focus on running the mildly descending road, it was more like jogging though. Keep the walking to a minimum. Then I spotted a runner coming towards me and he looked really familiar. It was Nick Ferrara from Doylestown PA! My initial thought was "WTF is he doing way back here?" Nick is a veteran 100 mile runner and a sub three hour marathoner and is way faster then me so I would have thought he was miles in front of me not miles behind me. I stopped to talk to him and it turns out he was running the race with a friend who really got in a bad way and got sick and Nick stayed back with him to try to get him to continue but unforttunatly his friend did not continue and that left Nick chasing cutoffs and he wound up dropping at North River inbound I believe. Such a selfless act of kindness by him. Just another example of what ultra running is all about. <br />
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<br />
I said goodbye to Nick and continued on. Since I was alone the thoughts of bear popped back into my mind. I am somewhat surprised I didn't see any bear or any wildlife for that matter. I saw nothing. No dear, no birds, no squirrel, no rabbits, no bear nothing! I kept looking into the forest along the road as I ran trying to see if I could spot anything. No luck. I did spot a runner up ahead and I tried to keep him in sight. It's a strange thing to think but to me as long as I can see him I'm not really running alone. He could be hundreds of yards away but as long as he could be seen by my eyes he mind as well be ten feet away. I enjoy running alone and do most of my training alone. I guess I would classified as a solitary runner. But there are times I want and need to be around others and I was hoping for another runner to run with. I eventually caught up with him and I recognized him from pictures that my friend Jimmy Blandford took at Eastern States. It was Christopher Agbay. Talk about a veteran 100 mile runner. Look up the word "beast" and this man should be there. We had a great mile or so together chatting away about Eastern States and MMT and just how great the trails down here in Virginia are. We ran together into Little Bald aid station where I proceeded to eat probably two or three full oranges they had sliced up. They tasted so good and I could not stop. Then a nice man poured me a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale which tasted better then the oranges. These guys were really having a good time out here. The happiest volunteers I have ever encountered that's for sure. I drank the pale ale, thanked them, and was on my way. Chris stayed back at the aid station waiting for his brother who was also running the race. So once again I found myself alone running through those open meadows that would spring up along this section. Yup you guessed it, these meadows were prime black bear territory. At least that's what I told myself anyway. My brain was totally psyching myself out. It was rather annoying but it kept me moving.<br />
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And there it was, the sign for the Wild Oak Trail. I was now on the long seven mile descent into North River Gap aid station at mile 67. On and on and on it went. It looked like a completely different trail during the daylight. It was very quiet on this trail with continuous drizzle. It was muddy and slick and slippery but it certainly was quicker going down then coming up. I passed a runner or two here and even passed my Texas friend Sandy. I would pass him on the trail and he would catch me at the aid stations. Chris and his brother caught up to me and passed me with vigor as they both were running well here and I was fading. I passed a few folks and hikers coming up TWOT and for some reason I thought I was close to the parking lot but I wasn't. I was far from it. It was funny as this descent continued on for an eternity it seemed. I recall smiling several times and chuckling to myself which I usually tend to do during 100 milers. It seems at some point, the absurdity of running a 100 miler hits me broadside like a bus. My usual response to this epiphany is always laughter. Off in the distance I could hear hollering and cheering. This jolted me out of my daydream malaise and I realized the aid station was right ahead. As I rolled into the North River there was Kiran dressed and ready to roll to pace me for the final 35 miles. Relief at last!<br />
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Kiran handed me my drop bag as I sat down in a chair. I chugged another Ensure, changed socks, lubed my destroyed feet, changed shirts, and ate some food. There were many families and runners here milling about giving this station a busy vibe. It was the final third of the race and in a mere few hours the second night would be showing up. We rolled out of there a little after 2:30 with hopes of getting to Dowell's by nightfall. But to accomplish that we had to climb Lookout and Hankey Mountains then run the long descent into Dowell's. Kiran locked in right behind me and onward we went. It was so great having her there for companionship to face the wrath of the final 50k. Lookout mountain seemed another blur to me. It was just a steady strong hike up and up and up. It was interesting in that nothing was recognizable because that last time I was on this trail it was dark and I was coming down from the other direction. So in a way it was all new to me. It took a little over two hours to go the six miles from North River to Lookout Mt aid station. The trail pretty much climbed the entire six miles so we did not do much running, but we were moving steady and that's all you need to do. It was great seeing Angela volunteering at Lookout. I was also able to get a hamburger here which was really good. So I sat down in a chair eating a hamburger and drinking coffee all the while Angela harassed me about getting back out on trail (in a friendly way of course). We left rather quickly I think anyway and went on up Hankey. It was just another strong hike up the access roads and up trail. After passing some very nice mountain bike riders who kindly gave us the trail and wished us well we finally started descending down the long never ending five miles to Dowell's. My new trail friend Chris whom I met twenty miles ago did mention to me this five mile stretch was his favorite part of the course because you could cruise all the way down. I could see now what he was talking about but my cruising speed at this point was more like a walrus in heat. I envisioned I was doing at least 9 minute miles but upon further review afterwards I wasn't even in the ballpark and I'll just leave it at that. At the pace I was going those five miles took a loooooong time. Darkness did fall on us here and I think it was still raining as we limped into the aid station. <br />
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<br />
Dowell's Draft is roughly 22 miles from the finish. It's sounds close but it really isn't. As soon as we got there I sat down and started to shiver and feel cold. I drank an Ensure and changed my shirt but still was shivering. A nice woman and man sitting there gave me a blanket to cover myself. They were, I think, part of the fire rescue volunteers. They had their dog sitting there also. Staring at him made me miss my family and Baxter my little Havanese. I just sat there staring and watching others. I was siting under a tarp on a chair but out of nowhere I was getting rain dumped on me as the tarp covering us would eventually become heavy with pooling rain and that pool would spill over the edge dumping onto me as I sat there. I was numb to it really and way to exhausted to get up and move the chair. My mind would fade in and out with thoughts of my family and then thoughts on nothing. Utterly blank. This is the moment in 100 milers where you either rise up or succumb. You never really know it at the time but its there. Its those moments I think I really enjoy but I don't enjoy them when in those moments if that makes sense. I enjoy them in my subconscious but not in the present. I stood up and Kiran and I got a brief recon of the remainder of the course from a nice fellow who was wearing a Hellgate jacket if I recall. He was so nice and helpful. He bluntly told us the next two climbs are going to suck a lot but there is no way around it so just move forward and make due. Oh how right he was. Leaving the station we were right behind Otto Lam from New Jersey. He was standing off on the side projectile vomiting into the bushes. It's what he does. He just completed the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning and the first New Jersey resident to do so and is here running this and leaving a trail of half digested Sunny Delight all along the course. I find Sunny D to be vile but he lives on the stuff. So into the forest we all drudged towards Crawford Mountain.<br />
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Once you cross the aptly named Hankey Mt Highway you start the climb up Crawford. This is a 1,700 foot ascent over roughly four miles and looks nothing at all familiar even though you ran down this very trail the evening before. I felt as if I was climbing Denali. To say this was a slog was an understatement. Kiran and I both had to stop on occasion to lower our heart rates and take a breath. The rain had finally stopped or so it seemed but the wind started to pick up ferocity the higher in elevation we climbed. I thought to myself several times how in the hell does this climb keep going. As we neared what we thought was the top the wind really started to howl and the fog on top of the mountain was actually blowing like smoke in a fire. One of my biggest fears of night running is wind and trees falling over crushing me. That is all I could think of. All the rain we had and now the wind is going to knock these monster trees down and kill us. I had to change the subject in my mind and not dwell on this. Then I thought about the dangers of what we were doing. I actually thought what if Kiran gets hurt or I get hurt what the hell are we going to do way out here on this lonely mountain. I had to push those doubts away. More tricks that the mind was playing on me to get me to stop. That son of a bitch brain of mine it's pretty sneaky. We actually came up on a large group of runners and past them as they changed into warmer jackets. Then we started to head down and that means an aid station was not far. We headed into Dry Branch aid station mile 87 and I told Kiran I need to sleep and sleep I did. <br />
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As I sat in that chair in front of that hot fire I would drift in and out of reality. I would hear voices echo in the distance but they were right next to me. My shins seemed to be burning being so close to the fire but I didn't care. The inferno felt good compared to the icy forest. I would awake on occasion as the ever present fear of sleeping past the cutoff would make me stir. I would then close my eyes again as if hitting the snooze button once I realized I was in no real danger. This went on for close to an hour. When I finally awoke for good I knew I had to be out of there by midnight which gave me 8 hours to finish with 14 miles left. I knew I could make it. That hour spent sitting there was the best decision I have ever made in a race. Hard to believe I know but that rest seemed to give me a boost for the next ten miles. I lost an hour sitting there but I gained my head back and my determination to finish was even stronger. I would have thought my legs would be like lead and stiffen up after sitting there so long but I popped up, put my hydration vest back on, tightened my gloves, said thank you no one in particular just anyone that was around me and off we climbed up Elliot's. It was almost as if my brain finally and I mean finally accepted the fact that I was not going to drop. I was going to finish this race no matter what. My brain whispering a conversation with my legs as I slept letting them know we needed 14 more miles out of you then you can crash. The human body is a remarkable machine in moments like this.<br />
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Kiran and I made our way slowly up Elliot's Knob Trail the last climb on the course. Oddly this climb was a mirror of the last climb we did, Crawford. It's four miles and 1,700 foot but Elliot's was much more technical then Crawford. Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be right? When you would step on a wobbly slab of rock it would make a thud sound as it would rock back and forth into it's neighbor. It reminded me of some of the central Pa trails back home. The classic unstable and technical mess associated with trails around Waterville, Loch Haven, and Forksville. But I like that mess. It keeps things interesting and occupies your mind. Maybe I was imagining it but I do believe the rain started again at one point. I could see a runner up ahead and he was lying half on the trail and half off. He was in the fetal position just lying there. At the time I wasn't really sure if he was real but I think he was real. I don't remember what I said to him. I don't remember if I even said anything. But the image I do remember vividly. It was the image of pure fatigue and mental anguish. More runners came and went as we climbed. I was able to pass many of the folks who passed me as I slept at Dry Branch. But passing people meant nothing to me at this point. Finishing this race was the only thing that had a meaning. While hopping along the rocks we came up on a runner who I immediately recognized as Philip from New Jersey. We greeted each other with happy smiles and salutations and ran the next few miles in a little train. He eventually pulled over and we passed and told him we would see him at the finish. The reality was sinking in that a finish was looming then shortly afterwards we popped out onto that glorious open stone road. It was 1:45 am Sunday morning and we still had 10 miles to go.<br />
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Now this stone access road was steep, very steep. It was steep going up which I barely remember but here at this moment it was torturous descending. Kiran and I jogged it somewhat or more like "fell forward" would better describe it and it also seemed to just go on for ever, but it was only a bit over a mile long to the turnoff into the woods. The rain had finally cleared out and you could see the lights of Staunton or some other sleepy town off in the distance. You could also hear what sounded like an Amtrak train traveling at a high rate of speed. It was the wind howling across the tops of the trees. It was astonishingly loud and was energetic to say the least. The mountains were finally releasing their tight grip and giving us a dynamic farewell. The trail turned off into the woods and we were back on single track that seemingly descended to the center of the earth. It was hard to believe I ran this trail going outbound. The streams were bulging with mountain runoff and nothing looked familiar. We passed some runners tip toeing on rocks trying to cross the creeks but not me. I blasted right through the knee deep ice cold water with little care. The freezing water would jolt me awake and soothe my horribly blistered feet. I had a one track mind and that was to take a hot shower and put layers of warm cotton clothes on and pass out in my car. Then these oddly shaped white rocks started to pop up all over the trails. "What the fuck is this!" I blurted out to Kiran. I could here her laugh at my outburst. "These god damn mother f'in white rocks!" My feet felt like they were tearing apart at each step on these things. After ninety plus miles of wet feet and mountains these hellish white rocks were like some sort of nightmarish cheese (foot) grater and the final straw and I lost it. I dropped so many F bombs and mother this and mother that and Kiran just chuckled at me. It's exactly what a great pacer does. Let the runner vent and laugh at them. The pain my feet felt was borderline unbearable but there is nothing you can do. Block it out and get through it is the only way. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixK25_Rg6qs7K0XfJ-cDP2GEf0e5s36-ySmY6yhz_4rPKJuRSNreBu71BI9GjzkpvO8HOdf0q9ngu912rozkHKCh4J_s7vPyQOUiv6ou-CXYNhmTwdEc0JXSRMscqnXGX15r38XVhtLKY/s1600/14517644_10209963236747809_4710637992203518172_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixK25_Rg6qs7K0XfJ-cDP2GEf0e5s36-ySmY6yhz_4rPKJuRSNreBu71BI9GjzkpvO8HOdf0q9ngu912rozkHKCh4J_s7vPyQOUiv6ou-CXYNhmTwdEc0JXSRMscqnXGX15r38XVhtLKY/s320/14517644_10209963236747809_4710637992203518172_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Of course the totem pole hug still clinging to </em><br />
<em>my poles</em>.</td></tr>
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Apparently there was another aid station called Falls Hollow which I completely forgot about. We finally arrived and I sat down and started to shiver. The kind volunteer said we had five miles left. Really? That far? He mine as well have said 50 miles. Five miles sounded really far and I prayed my white rock friends did not reappear. But Gilbert Gray appeared out of thin air it seemed and said in his classic Tennessee draw "Bryan you look cold, do you want my jacket?" He apparently picked up a fellow from overseas to pace since his runner Aaryn dropped. But I could not take his jacket so I politely declined. It's just funny because earlier that year back in April I saw him at the mile 17 aid station at Bull Run Run and he literally undressed and gave me his merino wool long sleeve off his back because I was wet and shaking then. Gil is one of the best guys to run with and that's just one small example of the unselfish nature of a kind soul. After quickly drinking a little ramen Kiran and I set off again over the train tracks which I also forgot about and up another climb. It was only a 500 foot ascent I think but really any climb at that point was enormous. After reaching the top we had four miles of descent that was right out of the movie Groundhog Day. We would complete one mile giving us three miles to go but we still had four miles ..left to go. So a mile would pass but still four miles left to ..go. WTF is happening? That was my brain. Completely incoherent and just not able to reason or judge time, place, or distance. I was moving at a 20 minute mile pace on trail I would normally run at a 10 minute pace so of course I was all out of sorts. Eventually we did see the lights of the camp and the shimmer of those lights on the water of the lake. We made our way around the lake and up the road into the camp and across the finish to great Clark Zealand the RD with a smile and a handshake. 35 hours and 38 minutes of pure 100 mile awesomeness! <br />
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A few thoughts on Grindstone 2016.<br />
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1. The race was so well done. The course markings, the volunteers, the aid stations, the swag, the pre race lunch and post race breakfast, the hot showers. I loved it. I just wish I was faster so I could see more of the course in the daylight. <br />
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2. I will have to run the race again in 2017 because I know I can run the course faster and the conditions can't be any worse then what we all endured. It can't be! <br />
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3. From my awesome pacer Kiran to seeing all my running friends on course, 100 mile mountain races continue to have a pull on me like no other distance. It's so primal and so savage but at the same time so enriching and rewarding there just isn't another distance I can say that I feel that way about. <br />
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4. Run this race. Just do it.<br />
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Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-7506639864281757512016-05-31T13:07:00.000-07:002016-06-03T13:19:52.863-07:00Worlds End 100K - The Empty One<br />
"<em>To try and fail is every bit as valuable as success so long as you push your own margin and thus gain knowledge." - Cory Richards</em><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The view of the start and the same view at the finish.</em></td></tr>
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Seven day after finishing MMT100 I found myself standing at 5 am at the starting line at Worlds End 100K up in Forksville Pennsylvania. I can't really recall if I signed up for this one first or MMT but I think it was this one. I hadn't run all week since MMT as upon finishing that race I had some edema in the lower legs which I also experienced following Oil Creek 100. My left shin was also very tender to the touch. It was sore almost like a shin splint type of soreness. I would not label any of this injury it's just the way it is after you put your body through the rigors of a technical mountain 100 mile foot race lasting close to 33 hours. So I rested all week and ate and rested and ate some more. The puffiness in my feet and ankles subsided by Thursday and the shin tenderness was all but gone by the time I started running at 5 am. This was my first 100k race so I really didn't have any idea how to approach it other then to survive. I almost thought of it as another 100 miler. I knew about 45 miles of the course having done the 50k last year and a training run or two over winter. This is not a race that compares even close to a 50 miler so my only thought was to treat it like a hundred. I felt mentally I was in a good place but physically I had no idea on earth what my body was going to do. <br />
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Respect. I know some folks may be thinking that I went into this race with a lack of respect for the distance and terrain. But actually it would be the opposite. Why would someone want to run a very challenging 100k race a week after a very challenging 100 miler? My answer is simply why the hell not! I wanted to see if I could do it. I wanted to be challenged and pushed almost to the breaking point. I knew failure was hiding behind every tree and bush at Worlds End. It was in the air. I could see it reflecting in the pools at the base of the many waterfalls when I looked down. I was running from it. If I dropped or missed a cutoff well then so be it, I would then know my limitations. Because let's cut the shit here isn't that why we all do this? To see if we can finish or tackle a distance that we never have thought possible before? That's the whole damn point of ultra running. The point is to push our limits, to do the unthinkable. At least that's how I view it. There are many "easier" races out there just waiting for your next cushy PR or age group award. Those races are not for me and do not appeal to my sense of adventure. <br />
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Something happened in this race. During those long 65 miles out in the forest something that I have never experienced went down. I was given a choice somewhere around mile 10 or so. I could drop or head back out on the course towards a state of mind that was all new. I felt pretty good physically and mentally for the first ten miles. But after that I was drained. I had nothing left to give. It was almost as if during the week I filled the reservoir back up from being empty but with only enough for about ten miles worth of running. What was I going to do for the next fifty some odd miles? It was all a blur. I would run with a few friends and we would merrily run along chit chatting at times and other times in silence. We would run/walk the technical stuff and hike the climbs. We would run the downs the best we could. It was strange. I just kept going fueled on... nothing. My legs were killing me, my wet feet blistered, my mind was almost blank. I would play the same music in my ear over and over mile after mile. <br />
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The scenery was fantastic, the trail a dizzyingly array of color and texture of sounds and smells. The air was grey and moist then rain then cold then dark. I was all alone in the dark along a fence and along a mud socked trail around mile sixty pushing 11 pm.. My trail friends whom I ran with were no longer behind me. They had fallen back and succumbed to this place. I thought I was lost. I could see the reflective markers lit up by my headlamp but soon realized I had been here in this exact same spot a 50K ago, it was the coal mine clearing. And as I stood there not understanding I was supposed to be here I let out a scream in frustration at the top of my lungs. It was dead silent afterwards. It was utterly soundless in that clearing and in that forest. The mist lingered in the air as my headlamp reflected off the dew. I was confused as to my placement on course. Was I still on course? What is happening?? I immediately was overcome with a foreboding feeling. I paced back and forth in the most frantic state. I was loosing it. Panic was coming. I had to make a choice. Go back for some reason, stay there and hope someone was behind me or follow the reflective flags. My mind was not in any shape to make such a call. So my gut stepped in and it choose the correct route. <br />
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I had been running flag to flag for the last fifty miles. I had been running in slow motion. Running as if in a quagmire. It wasn't the same run as MMT. It was not the same feeling. My legs and hips throbbed with a tightness and with a pain never experienced but yet I blocked it out. My blisters on the bottoms of my feet would warm as they burst then cool but I felt nothing. My head throbbed with exhaustion but I wasn't yet tired. I was grinding. I was running on sheer will to finish. I cared not of consequence to the body or of placement of position. Buckles or material things had no meaning. I needed to finish. I wanted to finish. And finish I did. I finished with another runner named Dave. We were fourteen minutes passed the deadline. A finish line cutoff that was not met. A finish line DNF (did not finish). Even so I wanted to shake the race director's hand. He was not to be found. Later I had learned he was sweeping the course as the person who was supposed to be doing it was having trouble. I saw Don and many other friends at the finish. I sat down at a picnic table with no real feeling at all to express. I sat there staring at the many dark shadows and figures trying to eat. Some talked to me or looked at me but I was blank. Don was talking to me but I was not understanding. I saw Sam finish a few minutes after us with the same look on his face as I felt inside. I hobbled over and congratulated him as he stood there off to the side as if lost. I shock his hand and patted him on the shoulder. There was nothing else to say or do. In the end I had found what I was looking for. I set out and did what I came to do. I completed the course and I unexpectedly stumbled right to the edge and came face to face with my breaking point. But I did not break. <br />
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Worlds is a phenomenal race. It's magnificent in it's beauty. It's a race not to be missed. <br />
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<br />Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-66703032489615524502016-05-18T16:04:00.000-07:002016-12-07T11:35:17.752-08:00Massanutten 100 - It Was Just My Imagination It was now 1:30 in the morning. I have been on the MMT course for over 21 hours. The cold and bitter wind was howling from the northeast with a winter's fury. We could see the lights way down below in the town of New Market, Virginia. It looked like a place that I wanted to be. I knew there was warmth and comfort down below. I yearned to be down there. But I was up here on the infamous Kerns Mountain ridge and I was freezing cold, physically exhausted and mentally broken.<br />
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The Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Miler is a classic spring time race held each year in the beautiful Virginia mountains of Shenandoah. I have had this race on my radar for over a year, even before Oil Creek. I read a slew of race reports and studied the website. But I knew last year I was not trained for a mountain race like MMT. I was running on the Appalachian Trail occasionally but most of my long trail runs were on hilly trails like those found at Oil Creek. After studying and trying to pick the perfect first 100 miler for me personally I felt Oil Creek was a better fit logistically and with the way I was training so I went with it and completed my first 100 mile finish. It was such a great experience. OC is a magical race and so well done and I know I will return to best my inaugural finish time at some point. But I often would daydream of something really hard and mountainous. A race that will push me back or more importantly punch me back on my ass and force me to decide on how to respond. So I signed up for MMT lotto and got in.<br />
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My training post Oil Creek ramped up almost immediately. I slowly started doing more long runs on the AT and on Mt. Tammany. All winter long I would do mountain repeats almost weekly. 1,200 foot climbs up and down for hours. I was even able to get a full Buzzards run in out in Harrisburg which is an old marathon fatass race course that has some burly climbs and descents in and around the AT. I love signing up for trail races as training runs as well. So I did Tammany 10 (ouch), Hyner 50k, and Breakneck 42K as quad thrashing long runs. I ran Bull Run Run 50 miler as well to get some more long running miles in as well so I was forced to actually run. Those races were all so fun! I also kept doing short speed work during the work week on roads. The weekends were for climbing and technical trails. I would go out to Hamburg Pa a lot by myself and run Hawk Mountain and the reservoir where the AT runs through. Occasionally I would go out and run with Jimmy Blandford and company in Port Clinton and he would take us on guided tours of all the beautiful trails in his back yard. Well, I would try to keep up anyway he did win MMT and BRR so he's kinda fast. He's so great because he would wait for us at intersections and backtrack to make sure we weren't completely lost out there. I had a great six month training block with no injuries and felt rested and ready.<br />
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I would be paced by Casey Fisher at MMT who also paced me beautifully at Oil Creek. I drove down to his house outside of Baltimore and he drove the rest of the way. We stayed at the Holiday Inn Express in Woodstock on recommendations from Jimmy and that was a great call. I'm just not a camper and the hundred or so dollars spent for a nice bed is a worth while investment for me personally. I am high maintenance I suppose. We did packet pickup then shot over to the Woodstock Brew House and had lots of beer and bbq. I was basically half intoxicated when I left. Oops..But most importantly I was relaxed and in a good mental state. I was not worried or very anxious about what was about to go down in those mountains. All you can do is show up and start running and see what happens.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles at packet pickup. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally got to meet this cool cat, Nick Combs.</td></tr>
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My pacer and crew Casey, myself, Maria, and her </div>
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pacer and crew Jun at the start.</div>
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<em><u><strong>Start to mile 33.3 Elizabeth Furnace Aid Station 8 hours 38 minutes</strong></u></em><br />
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It was 4 am and we were off up Camp Roosevelt Road and then Moreland Gap Road for several miles before hitting the trailhead. The weather was cool albeit a bit humid but very pleasant running weather. The vibe at this start was laid back and calm which is nice. Just the sounds of feet hitting pavement and that awesome sight of headlamps all the way up the road. The climb up Short Mountain was not bad at all and was over before I realized and running the ridge line was somewhat a blur for any real detail. I did my general rule of hiking swiftly on the super rocky stuff and any hills and jogging the flats or descents. The classic blueprint for any mid to back of the packer. Pulling into Edinburg Aid Station at mile 12 I still wasn't feeling it exactly. I was loving the trail and the race and the views and the people but it was if I wasn't firing on all cylinders or something. I'm sure the beer the night before did not help either. I knew it would eventually pass I just had to give it some time. I made a pace card for times entering each station for a perfect race. Well any chance of hitting those times were gone by mile 12. Being completely unfamiliar with the course also made those times a bit ambitious but I think you should have hard to reach goals and see if you can get there. However I'm sure as hell not going to chase times on a card that early in a long race. I was taking what the course was giving me and trying to find the flow.<br />
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Rolling into the Edinburg I saw Jun Bermudez a fellow TrailWhippass member who was there to crew and pace his friend Maria Campos. He helped me refill with Tailwind and gave me words of encouragement. He's a beast and has run this race twice and races such as the burly Bigfoot 200 so when coach Jun speaks I listen. As I ran out I got a great smile and fist bump from the one and only Gary Knipling. That was awesome and felt good. I have never spoken with him and he does not know me but the man's a legend. As I entered the trailhead there was my friend Paul Encarnacion shooting pictures. He lived up to his trail name of <i>Ninja</i> as I didn't even see him until I was right on top of him. I was a little startled and it made me laugh. I had a big mouthful of food also and was trying to smile. I got a fist bump from him and up the trail I went. Fist bumps and smiles go a long way in these races. It's always the little things.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Edinburg Gap with a mouthful of food! Photo by Paul E.</td></tr>
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Leaving Edinburg you get a nice little climb up and over Waonaze Peak and then some rolling off and on rocky trail that seem like it never ends. It was here I caught a few of those land mine rocks buried underneath all those leaves from the previous fall season. At first I rolled my left ankle then ran it off. Then I rolled my right ankle twice and I cursed really really loud. The cursing was not for the pain but more for the fact that I knew my downhill confidence would suffer with so many more miles to go. I really enjoy running technical downhill and now I will need to be very careful on the downs. I roll my ankles enough in training and usually catch myself mid-roll to rarely do any lasting damage. But here with eighty miles to go I would really have to be cautious which would slow me down even more and mean more downhill braking. Downhill braking for endless miles also leads to the dreaded blown quads so now I have that to deal with. Another problem thrown in that you just have to work around and it's precisely that type of management that makes the 100 mile distance such a fun challenge.<br />
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Passing through Woodstock Tower aid station I met Jim Treece who was volunteering and helped me out with my Tailwind packets and getting water. I recognized him from FB and Paul's race video from Eastern States. He was so helpful and it was great to meet him. A few more rolled ankles later I rolled into Powell's Fort aid station to a big smile from Paul taking pictures and some of the best tasting hot french toast and bacon I could have ever dreamt up. Paul had asked me how I was doing and my response was not very enthusiastic if I remember correctly. But he knows what I was feeling and gave me great words of encouragement that really helped keep me on track and to stay focused.<br />
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Once again I don't remember much of the next few miles. However something really strange happened around mile 24 or so. A deer started following me. It was standing on the side of the trail motionless and I ran up on it and it startled me. I said hello and walked past the rather large female. It then hopped on the trail and started to run behind me as I ran. I kept glancing over my shoulder and it was maybe ten feet behind me looking directly at me, making eye contact. I then walked and it stopped and walked. I stopped completely and it stopped completely all awhile still making eye contact. It was acting exactly like a dog. I thought to myself "Am I imagining this?" I had no idea what to do so I started jogging again I mean I am in a 100 mile race here. It then started running harder then me and came right behind me by a mere few feet. I stopped and quickly turned around and it quickly stopped. There was another runner behind me by maybe fifty or so feet and I yelled to him "do you see this?" He responded with a "yes" but not sure if he saw the whole thing. I tried to take video but of course I didn't have enough memory on my phone so I was only able to muster up a deer selfie. I finally just sort of scared it off by clapping my hands and making a loud scat noise. My only guess is that someone routinely feeds the animal and it wanted some Tailwind or salt tabs.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail gods granted me safe passage via the doe.</td></tr>
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A nice long fire road climb followed by a nice four mile descent had me re-focused and feeling much better as I entered to the encouraging cheers from the Elizabeth Furnace aid station. This was a big station full of energy, great vibes and familiar faces. Casey was quick to point me to my chair and grab food and drink for me. He knows exactly what to do. Then I saw Lori and Dean Johnson there and got some good information from them as they know the course really well. Jun was also there awaiting Maria. When I sat down in my chair I noticed Caroline Williams who was sitting right next to me. She was kind enough to get me an icy pop! So nice of her and it was so good! I certainly felt so much better and ready to tackle the next miles with my eyes on getting to Habron Gap at mile 54. But baby steps. Aid station to aid station. Run smart and run steady.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming into Elizabeth Furnace mile 33. Photo by Casey Fisher</td></tr>
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<u><i><strong>Miles 33.3 to 63.9 Camp Roosevelt 18 hours 16 minutes</strong></i></u><br />
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I felt energized as I made the climb up the Tuscarora trail out of the furnace up to High Peak Mountain. I totally attribute it to seeing all those friends at the aid station and feeding off that energy. It really is amazing how it can boost you. Just a few minutes is all it takes. The key would be how long can you feed off of it. Only time will tell. As I made my way up and over and down the Shawl Gap Trail I finally was able to stretch the legs out and run. Once you crested the top of the mountain you received a very nice two mile or so stretch of super runnable wide fire road type trail down to the Shawl Gap aid station at mile 38. It was here it started pouring down rain on me and I was completely alone on the course and I did not see another runner in front or behind me. It was magical. Just me and the trail and the rain. It was here running down this trail that I really found a stride and felt so damn good. I had energy I had fun and I was in the zone. It took 38 long miles to hit it, but I was now warmed up, happy, and ready to roll.<br />
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I cruised into Shawl smiling from ear to ear and clapping my hands and happily yelping my bib number "176!" I told Dave who I now realize also happens to be XtremeTaper from the Runningahead.com forums which I belong to that I had a drop bag and had him searching for one in the rain. But in my happy go lucky state it turns out I didn't have one. Bummer. Oh well no big deal I felt great and didn't really need anything but a top off of fluids and maybe a beer. I shake Dave's hand and introduce myself and he snaps a few pics of my soggy smiling face! Thanks Dave! Then Dean Johnson shows up with says he's got cold beer in his car and proceeds to run me out to the road and pours me a Citra IPA. Hot damn did that taste good! Lori steps out of the car and they both give me a breakdown of the next few road miles to Veach Gap Aid station. I thanked them re-filled my cup with beer and headed off down the road in the pouring rain chugging the beer. Life was good.<br />
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I actually did not mind this road section. It was hilly and rolling but it was actually nice to run a smooth surface and not worry about watching your foot placement. The break from the trail was a welcome one for me. I ran here fairly well and even ran some of the inclines on the road that I probably should have speed walked but I was feeling good as the rain poured down. I did start to notice however that I was starting to chafe in a few spots that needed attention. All the rain and sweat washed off the Ruby's Lube that I love so much. The initial application lasted 40 miles which is pretty damn good I would say. I unfortunately forgot to put it in my pack and only had an emergency bar of Body Glide which is total crap but will work in a pinch. So there I stood in the middle of the road with my hand down my pants applying the Body Glide and did not realize a runner who was right behind me. As he came up on me I said "sorry gotta lube up ya know?" He smiled and laughed because clearly in a rough 100 miler my behavior was clearly acceptable and understandable. I just hoped none of the local home owners who lived on that road saw me. It wasn't very long before I pulled into Veach Gap with my energy levels starting to drop. I talked with the station leader and he said it was a long way to the next aid at Indian Grave so it was best to top of fluids and fuel up. It was a nine mile trek. Three climbing, three along the ridge, and three miles down. So what did I do? I sat my butt in a chair for just a few minutes to lower my heart rate and mentally prepare. I needed to eat. I ate a few pieces of fruit and a salted potato. I knew it wasn't enough and was hoping to rely on some Tailwind to get me there. I stood up, thanked them and off I went up the climb. It was here I broke out my portable charger to charge my watch and cranked on some tunes. A little Prince always breaks the ice and keeps things happy.<br />
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I don't remember very much about the Veach climb. The ridge line however I remember was actually very runnable and it was here I passed a few folks as I jogged along and I caught up with a super badass Sophorn Choup. She is so funny and such a joy to see at races. I call her the Cambodian Killer because she is so tiny and nice but has such a fire in her that you can see as soon as you talk with her. She was also doing her first MMT but has paced here something like three or four times so she knows the back half of the course very well. I decided to hang with her as long as I could. She was speed walking this section or as she calls it "old lady shuffle!" It was so funny. You swing your hips and look ridiculous but I have to tell you it saves your legs and you can clip along at like a 15 minute per mile pace. Which is all you need to do. So we "old lady shuffled" our dumb asses all the way into Habron Gap aid station laughing all along the way all the while discussing the back half of this course and the insanity that we will face doing Eastern States in August. But she warned me about the back half of the course and how hard it really is. I took serious note of that, and wouldn't you know she was dead on. But first we had to roll in Habron Gap aid station at mile 54 to pick up our pacers and get ready for nighttime, when the race really starts to get fun!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophon old lady shuffling Page Valley Road and killing it! ha ha</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These views at mile 52...parts of this course were brutal but others were so peaceful and magical<br />
that you could not help but fall in love. And yes of course we are climbing that mountain as<br />
soon as we leave Habron Gap at mile 54.</td></tr>
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Casey was dressed and ready to go when I pulled into the aid station. I sat down and needed a sock change badly but of course it was the one thing I missed packing in my drop bag. I am pretty sure I mumbled to myself that I was a stupid idiot. But thankfully Casey had a pair. We grabbed some food, changed socks and put on a long sleeve shirt and jacket and Casey gave me his poles since I had a mechanical issue with mine rendering them useless. Off we went up the infamous climb up Habron. This one is a long one clocking in at roughly four miles long and 1,600 vertical feet. I felt really strong here however with the poles and picking up Casey to start the long journey through the darkness and hopefully to the finish. We passed Sophorn and her pacer halfway up and she did not look the same here as when we were smiling on the road. She looked very different and I could see she was struggling and I did not want to bother her knowing she was in a dog fight and needed to work though it. She is one tough women and I had faith that she would be able pull out of it. I wished her luck and we moved up to the top on a steady pace. Once at the top you re join the MMT trail and then Stephens Trail all the way back into the the big aid station Camp Roosevelt at mile 64. I don't remember much about Stephens except we were able to get most of it in before the sun fully set and darkness came so that was a nice mini accomplishment.<br />
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<i><u><strong>Mile 63.9 to 103.75 and the finish 32 hours 58 minutes</strong></u></i><br />
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At camp we were greeted by none other then Robin Watkins. How cool is that? Talk about an elite badass ultra runner! Hopefully she didn't think I was overly creepy yapping away with her like little school girl. Either way it was great to meet her and her husband Adam. She got me soup and water and even got me some bag balm! They even gave us a complete course breakdown on what to expect. This by the way was incredibly helpful. Here is how Robin explained the next five and half miles of the course heading to Gap Creek. "Duncan Hollow will be wet so don't worry about keeping your feet dry just plow right through and Kerns is slow going especially during the night hours." Great sounds tough but doable. So off we went out towards Duncan Knob and the Gap Creek climb and holy shit was it a mud pit. It was insanely wet with shin deep fast moving water in areas and other spots deep pools of stagnant water. We sloshed right on through. It was not runnable however, it was slow going. It simply became a matter of getting through it and hopefully the climb was dry. The climb was dry from what I remember but it was steep and long and tough and rocky and somewhat dangerous in spots. It was pitch black and Casey pointed out all the lights way down below. It was really cool to stop and see that realizing how high up we were. I think it might have been the town of Luray that we could see but I wasn't sure. As we reached the top we immediately of course starting going down the other side. This was a wet flowing slick muddy mess of a trail. Casey and I joked that we hated the mud and wished for the rocky climbs but then while climbing we would rather have the mud. We just couldn't find a happy medium. But off in the distance we could hear cheers and eventually saw the string of Christmas lights down below signaling we have arrived at the Gap Creek Aid Station. <br />
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Finally we made it in to Gap Creek around 12:30 am Sunday morning. Some kind women got my drop bag and gave it to Casey and he went fishing in my poorly prepared drop bag and gave me the Starbucks Double Shot that I downed. This women sat me in a chair and held a flashlight over me so I could see. She was like my own personal assistant. All awhile some other kind gentlemen retrieved food and drink for me and explained the next section. It was nothing short of astounding what these people were doing! Who were they? They were the best volunteers I have ever come across in any race! They were light years better from any other race I have run. I just could not get over the incredible kindness that I was receiving. Then it dawned on me as I sat in that chair under that women's watchful eye and flashlight. This is MMT! This very thing is what makes this race so unique and special! As much as the course grinds you down physically and pummels you mentally stripping you down to a helpless vulnerable child, if you can just get to the next aid station these amazing people go so far above and beyond to prop you back up, clean you and feed you, and then gently push you back out on course. It's almost a nurturing parental thing in a way. I have never experienced it before. But I get it now. <br />
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We had 8.5 miles to go to get to Visitors Center. And we were bluntly told it was a long way but first we had to climb the notorious Jawbone and get across the Kerns Mt ridge. Now Jawbone is only around an 800 foot climb but it seems like Everest for some reason. It's a nasty slow and a rocky boulder mess with false summits and as we neared the top Casey correctly pointed out that you can hear the cold wind howling on the ridge. "Oh Lovely" I thought to myself. This climb took a lot out of me mentally and it was a hard grind. I thought to myself "no more 100 milers, I am done done done with this shit!" But hey I wanted a challenge so here you go. Finally we were at the top or so we thought and as we turned a corner we were greeted with yet another boulder scramble. I just stopped at the base staring up into the climb, my headlight shining across the boulders into oblivion. The wind was blowing with an evil force and I turned around to Casey and murmured "you have to be f**king kidding me, right?" He cracked a calm reassuring smile as if to let me know that the ridge wasn't going to get done standing around. He didn't need to say anything. I climbed up on the boulders and we made our way to the top of the ridge. On and on it went up and down over and around. Nothing but un-runnable narrow creviced boulders and drops so you all you did was pound your legs over and over slowly weakening them. I was exhausted and my face was cold and tired of the wind smacking it around. 30 minute miles were what we were doing. 30!!! I started to throw a temper tantrum cursing the course, the mountain, the RD. I completely lost it throwing F bombs around for anyone to hear. But nobody was there. It was 2:30 in the morning and it was only Casey and I. Standing there at one point I turned around during my tirade and I watched Casey calmly pull out a bag of trail mix and he was smiling and munching on it. He offered me a dried strawberry. He said "these are really good, do you want one?" I finally took one and popped it in my mouth and it was surprisingly really good. As we stood there munching on these snacks the absurdity of my reaction to the trail hit me. Casey who is an experienced 100 mile runner having done Eastern States the inaugural year and Mohican and several others knew to just let me rant and managed to change the subject without saying anything. He realized that less is more. He was calm, cool, and said little which is what I like. I don't want a chatterbox pacing me. He made me realize on my own that I was having a breakdown and it would pass but make it quick cause you need to keep moving. That one little dried strawberry changed everything. Who would think that? How is that possible? A stupid dried fruit made the light bulb go off in my head. I re-focused turned back around and we started to move again. I still complained don't get me wrong but it was much less intense and I didn't stop moving. Soon enough the trail started to slowly level off and smooth out and I started running again and running well down and down we went and popped out on somewhat creepy and desolate stone road. We trotted along this road for a few miles and it started to dive down towards civilization and we new Visitors Center was close. We popped across route 211 and up into the aid station around 4 am. It took over 3.5 hours to do this 8.5 mile stretch of pure hell. We just completed the dreaded Kerns ridge and it took a lot out of me personally. My feet were destroyed, my confidence shattered, and I was cold and on the verge of tears. But then I saw my buddy Emir who was working the station and another friend from central PA Gary Bowman who's runner he was supposed to pace dropped out of the race. Then this crazy women convinced me to sit down and she would fix my feet while I ate! What?? I just couldn't believe it. Emir grabbed a hot cup of soup for me as I sat down. The women took my muddy wet shoes and socks off dried and cleaned my feet and lubed them up and just like a mother would do she rolled my fresh socks up and slipped them on. Gary was cleaning all the sand and rocks out of my shoes and gave them to her and she put them on, laced them up and we were on our way. Now those are good people doing this work at 4 am and I'm sure all of them were up all night.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This women was brave to work on my stanky mashed feet! She was a saint!<br />
Photo Emir Dedic</td></tr>
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We left the station heading for yet another climb, this time it was Bird Knob. I felt so much better after that five minute or so rest and some hot soup and cleaned feet. We made quick work or so it seemed anyway of the climb but it was miserably rocky and super steep. It also had false summits just like many of the other climbs so now I was used to never really expecting the top until I was certain we were at the top and leveling off. I don't recall this section being overly wet or rocky but more runnable access road type trail. I do remember passing large piles of soil that I suspected to be the ant hills so often talked about. They were so large that I didn't really think that could be them, however I think it was them. The wind was still blowing and the sky was lighting up and dawn was approaching. The wind was still blowing and I became very sleepy and somewhat out of it. I always get super tired right before daybreak but we ran the somewhat easy trail down to the Bird Knob aid station at mile 81. The volunteer told us we were in really good shape coming in here right before sunrise and we had plenty of time. I enjoyed hearing that and the confidence boast was very nice to hear. I asked for coffee which he brought me and I saw they had those little chocolate frosted donuts. Yum they looked good! So I ate one of those with the hot coffee and it tastes so good. I perked up a bit and down the road we walked heading down towards a trailhead to..you guessed it, another climb! This time we had to climb up and over Big Mountain. But luckily it was very short and quick. We then were given some more steep downhill to tenderize the quads just a bit more. It was all runnable but I could only run in spurts. This downhill in total was six miles. Yes it dipped up at times and leveled off a bit briefly only to then dump you straight down again and on tired quads it just hammered me. I found myself braking and using the poles but by the time we were halfway down this descent my legs were fried. They just could not take it anymore. It was agonizing and I grimaced with each sharp drop in elevation. That single stretch of trail was merciless. Even Casey whispered "man this is a long downhill." I know he was feeling it as well. It went on and on and on. Finally we hit the creek bottom and a short climb and made it into Picnic Area Aid Station. We didn't stay here long just long enough to get some French toast sticks and top off and down the trail we went. This short section down to route 211 I ran because it was so easy going I had to run it and it actually felt ok. <br />
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We crossed the busy Route 211 and up past a gate on a fire access road heading towards Scothorn Gap. This climb started innocent enough it seemed. However it is a four mile climb with about 1,500 feet of gain and doing this with already 90 miles on the legs was a grind. The latter stages of this climb were endless as well. At one point we were just standing there in shin high flowing water staring up a creek bed and seeing three flags all in a line up as far as you can see. I actually turned around to Casey and quipped "this can't be right can it?" How funny is that? The flags are right in front of my face several flags to be exact and I still do not believe they actually expect us to climb this. And there was no were else to go, nowhere but up the flowing creek following the flags. Casey just smiled which made me smile and I'm pretty sure we both laughed at that point. So up we went. We got to the top and a nice little meadow area and down we went again. We passed a solo female runner who was walking it in due to ankle rolls and ran into a group of hipster hikers coming up who didn't even acknowledge me when I said hello to them. I have to admit that really agitated me, but whatever. And there it was, Crisman Hollow Road. The road that the Gap Creek Aid station is on which is mile 96!! Casey and I power hiked this road and came up on a guy walking towards us with winter clothes on and he was taking our picture. So we started jogging of course and when he dropped the camera from his face he had this very large grinning smile. It was Jimmy Blandford! I was so happy to see his smiling face! I heard he dropped earlier and he was just out taking photos and enjoying the surroundings. I shook his hand and introduced him to Casey and all three of us walked down the road and he told us about his race and the issues he had and gave us the breakdown on the final seven miles. Nothing like receiving course recon from a guy who has won the race. Then we heard runners coming up behind us and it turns out it was Gary Bowmen and his daughter Laura! They were out getting some training miles in since Gary was unable to pace due to his runner dropping. Again I cannot emphasize how uplifting seeing my friends on the course like this. It really means the world to me and now I can smell the barn. But one thing I was feeling was hunger.<br />
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We ran into Gap Creek and I shouted my number and a volunteer asked me what I needed. Behind him someone was grilling burgers and you can smell them and see the smoke. I said "Do you have a cheeseburger?" He responded with "Absolutely, do you want mustard on it?" I nearly fell over with happiness! The entire race from Elizabeth Furnace onward I asked most of the aid stations for a cheeseburger but struck out every time. But here, with seven miles to go at the final aid station after 31 hours of mountain running this guy handed me and Casey each a piping hot big fat greasy cheeseburger and at the moment everything was right with the world. We both were so happy and thanked them over and over as we walked off and up towards the final climb, Jawbone. We inhaled those burgers and I could see the solidified grease on the outside of my palm. It was awesome. It was the perfect fuel at the precise moment to get us another seven miles to the finish. Jawbone was a little tough on tired legs but it was the last climb and I could smell the finish so I didn't care how much it hurt and honestly that burger dulled the pain pretty damn well. At the top of Jawbone you get to the pie plate signaling it's all down hill from here, and it actually is.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The famous mile 98 pie plate. I look like I am asleep but<br />
I'm really just in a burger coma! Photo Casey Fisher<br />
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The descent from the pie plate is about a mile and a half of super technical nasty trail but then you are rewarded with almost four miles of stone and paved roads. As we descended down the trail Casey remarked that he had a surprise for me. He said if we should be able to finish with a sub 33 hour time if we can get to the road in a certain time and then average a fifteen minute per mile pace on the road. Yes yes I have to do this. I must get sub 33. I did tell Casey on the car ride down here that I wanted to run the road the last four miles. I did not want to walk it. So he presented me with it on a silver platter but I had to make it happen. I immediately began running and running hard. I found myself bombing over the rocks at a fairly ridiculous pace for being at mile 99. I kept saying "where is the road where is the road?" Each bend came and went and no road. I was clearly impatient and my sense of distance and time were so far out of whack it was comical. But there it was the road. We popped out and entered an easy jog. Up ahead we could see a few folks run/walking the road. So that's what I did. Run walk run walk run walk and we slowly gained on them. For some reason I felt this rush of energy and picked it up and went into a full run hitting 9 minute pace and it felt so good and effortless. Two guys came up on us and we chatted a bit and then they went on. We then passed the couple doing the run/walk wished them luck and went on at a hard pace to the entrance of the camp. We climbed that cruel little hill with abandonment into the woods and over that log flume thing and around the field over the finish right into a Kevin Sayers handshake! That was fantastic! A finish time of 32:58<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There just is nothing like the 100 mile distance. Photo Don Riley</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love an RD that personally greats each runner. That's the way<br />
it should always be. Photo Jim Blandford</td></tr>
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100 miles is a special distance in my eye. It is just such an emotional roller coaster. It's the only distance I really want to do. At Edinburg I was uncertain. At Shawl I was in flow state and so high. On top of Kerns I was angry at the world and everything in it vowing to never run another 100 miler ever again. At Visitors Center I had to hold back tears. And on the wet Scothorn Gap climb I was laughing at the absurdity of it all. 100 miles will strip you bare and open you up for all the world to see and there is just something so damn magical about that. Only then can you reach your potential and see a side of yourself you never knew was there. </div>
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Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-61851128550691231662016-03-28T13:44:00.000-07:002016-04-07T20:45:46.636-07:00Mt. Tammany 10! - Did Not Finish<span style="font-family: "calibri";">On Saturday March 19<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> 2016 I ran the Mt. Tammany
10 right on the Delaware River across from East Stroudsburg PA on the New
Jersey side of the river. The term “run” is used here to describe the race but
it’s more of an endurance event or more aptly "who can block out the most discomfort race event." It’s around 38 miles with roughly 13,000 ft of
vertical gain and each participant is really supposed to be able to complete it in 10 hours or
less. The course is simply 10 loops of the 3.8 or so mile loop of Mt Tammany.
You climb up 1,200 ft then back down 1,200 ft and repeat until you finish or
have had enough. We are not talking buffed out trails here or forest roads. It is uber technical. I'm not overstating it either. It's not for the novice trail runner. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOsJpsi-LWSbkMCQhWsfF8p_cJLmc660qbEqVSsa4bCEI9nr98d8oE9mrviX-y3ox8foEeuV5GzdiklNWRKJ-Xc7nJdlHhZlzmhRq4mWz93WEOL3gSLkZFw46Njo6BQ8JQKNpm21Xsp8/s1600/12195917_10207303281690595_7363513404881168467_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOsJpsi-LWSbkMCQhWsfF8p_cJLmc660qbEqVSsa4bCEI9nr98d8oE9mrviX-y3ox8foEeuV5GzdiklNWRKJ-Xc7nJdlHhZlzmhRq4mWz93WEOL3gSLkZFw46Njo6BQ8JQKNpm21Xsp8/s640/12195917_10207303281690595_7363513404881168467_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ascent is a tad on the technical side. (photo I took during the DWG 50K in Oct.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here is a small portion of the descent looking up. Yea one mistake and your done.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So in order to beat 10 hours you really have to be good, like
really really good. Honestly you have around 12 hours to actually finish. Alex,
the RD and founder of Athletic Equation, is a really good dude and badass ultrarunner
himself and I believe his cutoff’s for this event are somewhat softened and I
felt he would grant you passage if he really felt you wanted to finish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So I signed up for this race because I like to be challenged. I
am a firm believer in running races as long training runs to prepare yourself
mentally and physically for the rigors of a hard and mountainous 100 miler. The
harder the better. It worked for my first 100 miler so I am applying the same concept for MMT and Eastern States this year. I guess it's a variation of the David Horton mindset of "the more you can trash yourself in training the more you can trash yourself in a race." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The course is nasty and rough. I like nasty and rough but
this course defines it. I’ve trained here all winter long to prepare for
Massanutten 100 in May so I knew what I was getting into. But in the depths of
my subconscious I knew that finishing for me was a longshot. I have only done
four loops at the most in one shot and often have felt beat up afterwards. So
ten loops was a stretch. So my attitude going in was don’t get hurt and try and
get 10,000 ft of vertical gain in on a nice long training run. If for some
reason I felt really good then of course keep going and get the finish. But I
wonder if planting the seed of my first DNF prior to the race starting had already
sealed my fate. We all know one thing, ultrarunning is more about the six
inches between your ears than anything else. Doubt is the enemy of ultrarunning
and if you have it going into an event it will be very hard to beat it back.
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">For the first time this year Alex offered a one hour early
start for those that wanted it. I of course opted for it along with three
others. So at 5:30 am we were off into the darkness towards the first ascent.
It was Charlotte from Connecticut, Cassandra from Lancaster and Joe the school
teacher from New York along with myself. We chatted away and climbed into the
darkness doing what every ultrarunner does when with a new group, we talk
racing and juggling family and the specifics about the course. I was somewhat
surprised to find out the Charlotte and Joe had never been here! I assured them
that they would love it and they said they wanted to stick with me because I knew the course
and they were worried about getting lost. I let them know that it was really
easy to stay on course but I just hoped that there were no bears on the trail
since we were the first one’s out there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The first loop was really slow. It was around seventy five
minutes which is about fifteen minutes slower then what I hoped for. But seeing
how it was all in the dark it was understandable. To finish you really need to
be doing sixty minutes loops or faster. Fifty minute loops would be ideal. We
caught the sunrise on the second loop and it was so nice. The temps were
perfect. A little on the chilly side high 30’s to low 40’s but I was sweating
like a pig as usual. Lugging my 200 pound frame up and down the mountain takes
a lot of effort. Charlotte and Joe were smaller and much lighter and they
really seemed to be hardly working while I felt like a grunting rhino. They
were great running partners and their light heartedness really made the
loops go by. Charlotte talked about the TGNY100 that she loves which is a road
100 around all five boroughs of New York City and Joe talked about Manitou
Revenge 54 miler in the rugged Catskills which is definitely on my radar. Charlotte is also doing Eastern States
100 as well so hopefully I can share some Waterville miles with here in August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was able to run the first five loops with
my new trail friends and I was very grateful for it. They eventually started
pulling away though as I slipped back and slowed. Now I was alone as I usually
am at races. I always seem to fall into that void area in a race where it seems
like you are dead last and there is nobody anywhere near you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Off I went on the fifth loop and as I passed under the Route
80 underpass to start the climb I ran into Emir and Casey coming in. I high
fived them as they went past and they joked to me about where have I been. It’s
always good to see familiar faces suffering out there. They started at the
normal 6:30 time and had already caught up to me. They both looked really
strong. Up the mountain and back down the mountain I went for the fifth time. Then back up for my sixth
loop which was my worst. Halfway up the ascent I became queasy and lightheaded.
I felt nausea and the initial thought of wanting to vomit came over me. I
couldn’t believe it. I have never felt that on any run or race before. It was a
first for me. I think I was really allowing my heart rate to stay very elevated
on the climbs in order to keep my time close to sixty minutes per loop but in
doing so may have been overdoing it. This loop sucked and it was one of the
lowest I have ever been and even more so then any low I experienced at Oil Creek
100. I just tried to drink and relax and breath. I walked way more of the
descent then I would have liked and rolled into the aid station after six loops
wanting to drop. Alex saw me and gave me a pep talk and I sat down as they
refilled my bottles. I got some warm chicken soup with broth and pierogies. Boy
was that good! I think I sat there for maybe ten minutes relaxing and eating.
The warm calories really helped and I no longer felt sick. Alex told me it’s
time to go back out there. He was awesome and my thoughts of dropping stopped.
So off I ran. I ran the entire road section to the climb feeling really good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Loop seven was probably my best as far as the way I felt
overall. I probably pushed too much in hindsight however. As I got about
halfway up I came upon two hikers sitting on a rock. They looked like a father
and son. The son asked me what the numbers were for and I stopped to lean on my
poles and told them gasping for air that it was a race and that we do ten four
mile loops of the mountain and this was my seventh loop. Just like the movies
both of their mouths dropped open and almost hit the ground. The look of utter
shock was painted on both their faces. They both said “wow” and wished me luck.
I actually cracked a smile at that point and thanked them. It was one of those
very short moments during a race that is memorable. I mean, the look on their
faces was priceless. They had to be thinking we are all completely insane. I
made it up to the top and the start of the blue trail descent feeling really
good with all those wonderful calories I received at the aid station. I ran the
descent with reckless abandon thinking in my head I only had two loops to go
when I had three. Simple math apparently escaped me. As I came around and
started the eighth loop I kept thinking I had this loop and one more. I don’t
know why. Ultra brain perhaps? I quickly ran out of gas during the ascent and
simultaneously realized no I had three loops left. Oy Vey.. I realized as I
looked down at my average pace that I was already past the twelve hour pace
mark. There was no way I could do another two loops in two hours which would
make them my fastest loops that day. Impossible. There it was…the seed had
sprouted, my first DNF was waiting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">My legs were trashed and so were my feet. I hobbled down my
final descent and shuffled under the overpass and up to the finish line. As I
came in I saw my friend Ryan running down the road towards me. He wanted to
pace me the last two laps but I was cooked. I felt bad he came out here and I
was done. Sorry bro. I came in in exactly 10 hours with 8 loops completed. I
had done 30.5 miles with 10,375 ft of gain and felt very proud of my efforts. How odd to consider those numbers a failure. By the rule of running it was a failed attempt. But honestly, I don't look at it like that at all. I'm quite happy with it. I quickly changed and cracked a beer I had in my cooler
and ate some awesome red beans and rice they had and sat with Ryan as we waited for
Emir, Casey and Don to finish. It was so great to sit there watching folks
finish especially friends. That was my favorite part of the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I personally had a great training day and took a few things
back home with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">1.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "calibri";">For the first time I battled a sick stomach and
fought through it as it passed. Something that was new to me. That’s a win and will use that knowledge if it happens again.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">2.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I didn’t get hurt and had a great day on the
mountain "trashing myself."</span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">3.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I hung out with some great friends and met some
new ones. The best win of them all.</span><br />
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Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-4593180486559126122015-10-18T13:04:00.001-07:002016-03-29T04:26:31.127-07:00Turn Out The Stars - My Running of the 2015 Oil Creek 100"A 100 miles is not that far." - Karl Meltzer<br />
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Yes it is. Oh yes it is.<br />
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In a blink we were jogging across the bridge and heading for the 1.5 mile bike path section to the trailhead. It was cold, dark, and quiet minus the fiew locals standing along the sidewalk clapping for the runners. You could see your breath. You could feel the nerves in the air. It was surreal. I have trained for a year for this moment, and that moment had come. I was running into the abyss. Running straight for it, staring down the barrel of a loaded weapon. I was face to face with my first 100 miler. There really is nothing like it. I remember toeing the line to my first marathon, 50K, 50 miler. But my god this was far beyond what your mind can really handle in that moment. So I tried not to dwell on it. But as we hit the trail head and started that slow conga line and first climb I thought about all the past inspiring videos of runners finishing Hardrock or Western States or even this race and all my friends who have dug deep to reach their goals. I thought about all those podcasts I have listened to. One especially with Luis Escobar who in retrospect summed up 100 milers perfectly. He was referring to Hurt 100 in Hawaii but I think it can fit with any. He basically said that you train so hard and build up your fitness and strength and then come race day you step in front of a bus.<br />
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<i><b>Loop #1 31.1 miles time 7:42 96th place </b></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rolling into Petroleum Center Aid Station mile 14.</i></td></tr>
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The first 14 miles flew by and I found myself sitting at AS #2 changing my shoes and regretting my initial choice of the Hoka Stinson Lites. Yes I know they are road shoes but I have run countless trail races in them namely a 45 miler and a 40 miler and was confident they would work for at least the first 40 or so miles. However the rain the day prior had me slipping more then once and dissolved my confidence in them so off they went and on went a tired pair of Brooks Cascadia's. They would get me back to the middle school main aid station and from there I could go to my work horse, the Hoka Stinson's ATR's.<br />
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I was running the race with my running buddy Kourtney and we had a small crew consisting of my wife Deb, Kourtney's boyfriend Joe, and Casey and Don who drove up from Maryland to crew us and pace us both through the night. We made quick work changing shoes and shirts, grabbing food and off we went up a fairly short climb called Heisman Trophy Hill to a more runnable section of trail. I felt good but did not feel great. It was strange in a way. The shoe thing bothered me a bit. But ultra running is about problem solving and when the problems come, and they can come on quick, you must focus on solving them and moving on. It's a constant anticipate and react and fix over and over. You assess and reassess your solutions and hope they work. However you cannot dwell on your decisions, you must turn the page. To me that is the allure of the sport. It's a 100 mile moving puzzle and you your brain and your body are smack dab in the middle of it.<br />
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The early miles ticked off and I could feel those tired Cascadia's on my legs. They had great trail feel but the cushion was just not there. I would need to go 17 miles in these and I needed to not dwell on that. So I focused my efforts on the trail and how each section brought back memories from our one time recon loop back in July. The trail was even more beautiful now with the fall colors and in great shape. The air was super cooled and moist. The fog just sat in the hollows and seemed to linger in the trees but not so much to hinder visibility.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Swallowed by the fog in the dawn on loop 1.</i></td></tr>
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I quickly forgot about the shoes and focused on how magical this trail really is. Each section had its own feel and smell. From soft and mossy hemlock to sweet maple sugar from trickling streams and sweeping overlooks. It's a trail runners trail. If this trail had a personality it would be of quiet confidence. It new how good it was and it didn't need to boast. This was a hidden gem tucked away in an unassuming town in the northwestern part of the state. </div>
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We pulled up to a water only station a few miles from the finishing the first loop. As I filled my bottle I recognized Karey Elliot cruisin right on by. She and I are Instagram friends and I was hoping to finally get to meet her. She is an awesome runner and a local rock star at this race. So I yelled out to her and wished her good luck. I probably startled her but she said the same to me and off we went. The miles here just floated along and we popped out of the woods, ran the one mile Drake loop, and rolled into the school and across the timing mat for the end of loop one. </div>
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<i><b>Loop #2 62.2 miles time 17:13 93rd place</b></i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>One 31 mile loop down and still trying to find that flow.</em></td></tr>
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What a pick me up seeing my wife, Casey and Don. They were so encouraging and attentive to our needs. I changed into a dry shirt, changed shoes, and ate three perogies and a grilled cheese sandwich. Casey filled my bottle up with Tailwind as I grumbled again about my shoes. What's done is done though and we still have 70 miles left.</div>
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It was here that I made arguably the most important chess move I have made in any of my races. I decided to use poles from here on out. I'm really not sure what prompted this but I have a hunch that maybe it was the one women who flew past me smiling with poles on the climb out of AS #2. She looked like she was really in a great groove running up that hill. Subconsciously maybe that vision stewed in the recesses of my brain and now I wanted to be smiling and cruising as well. Now the kicker is I have never used poles ever, even though I carried them in my pack the entire first loop. This would be new territory for me. I did ski a lot as a small child for whatever that's worth. I was planning on only really using them for the night if I needed them. Thankfully my pacer Casey brought an extra set for me to use. So off we went to the trailhead a mile and half away. I stood at the trailhead, wrapped the straps around my wrist, and up I went skiing up the trail. I know I remarked to Kourtney how easy that short little climb seemed. The trail then flattens out for a bit and then continues to climb. On that short flat stretch I immediately started the same stride pattern as the smiling women who passed me twenty miles before. Click click click click... as I synced up the poles strikes with my cadence. Click click click click.. I was smiling from ear to ear. I immediately relaxed and fell into a syncopated rhythm. Like a metronome. Being a music major in college it was a natural fit that my brain was already wired for it. I was now able to zone in on the poles and mastering their use which allowed me to completely take my mind of the distance left to go. Game changer.</div>
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The next twelve miles were a blur. Kourtney and I clicked along without a care enjoying the day as the sun started to slowly drop over the mountains. The field was spread out so there were not as many folks now. I didn't talk much probably to the dismay of Kourtney but sometimes I like quiet and this was one of those times. This loop was going to be tough. We would not finish it until well into darkness so I was trying to not dwell on that. We cruised along and made it smoothly into AS #1 which was arguably the best aid station I have ever seen in any race I have done. The Christmas lights strung well out ahead on the trail was such a nice touch. It was like a lone beacon in the night. A refuge to seek a few moments of peace. The food selection and the volunteers were money. They were pro. They didn't give out fake compliments like "ooh you look so good" and "you are almost there" or any other bullshit. That's amateur and I don't need it. This was my kind of station, in control and all business. Piping hot homemade mashed potatoes with cheese, soups, ramen and broth, sweet and savory selections galore. They took my bottle and immediately asked what I wanted. Textbook aid station the way it should be, and I couldn't thank them enough! The women served me the mashed potatoes and cheese and said just drop the trash on the switchbacks as they will pick it up shortly so we didn't have to waste time standing and eating. I hate dropping trash on a trail it just never seems right but she was in command and serious and I believed her so off we went eating and climbing.<br />
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Kourtney and I made quick work of the switchback climb right out the aid station and off we went with our sights set on Petroleum Center. We were pacing beautifully here and I felt like we were really getting into a nice steady flow. My heart rate was in zone two, I was fueling well and hydrating well, and I generally just felt good. All those really tough runs over the season going back to May were really paying off. Blowing up on the oppressively humid day at The Dirty German 50 miler and gutting it out, blowing up at Worlds End 50K and gutting that one out, the brutal climbs and descents of Call of The Wilds Mountain Marathon, the 45 miles at Montour 12 hour, the 40 miles at Labor Pains 12 hour, the suck fest that was the Lehigh Via Marathon, and capping off with a great run at The Dam Full Trail Marathon. I learned valuable information in everyone of those long runs. Those runs were all coming together and paying dividends right now. Kourtney and I were cruising beautifully and a few miles from PC we caught up to our friend Ryan from Nazareth. He appeared hurt and was shuffling with a noticeable limp. We chatted a bit and he had rolled his ankle and was struggling. We both chuckled that the course seemed harder then it was when we came out in July and did a loop. He did just run 100 miles a few weeks prior at the Pine Creek Challenge so the fact he was out here was very impressive. We were moving well so we continued on, popped out onto Old Petroleum Center Road, down a ways over the steel bridge and into AS #2 at Petroleum Center.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Coming back into AS #2, late afternoon with darkness looming.</i></td></tr>
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The plan was to arrive here before it got dark so we were ahead of schedule crossing the mat at 4:49 p.m. This was great because we still had roughly another two plus hours of daylight to run in and if we ran well could probably get to the Miller Farm Rd aid station in time for darkness. That would leave only 5.5 miles left of trail to run in the dark before we came out of the woods and onto the 2.5 mile stretch of open Drake Museum grass loop and bike path. But first we needed to fuel up, change shirts, and get psyched up for the darkness that was coming. I also started to feel some blisters that needed attention. Our pacers Casey and Don were great here as they went to work fixing our feet and taping them up. This was huge as I didn't really know what to do or was I prepared for blisters because I just never get them. </div>
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Dry and fueled up we headed out to the trailhead for The Heisman Trophy Hill climb. Once at the top we started the cruise again. This is the longest stretch in between aid stations and can play with your mind. There is an ultra running phenomenon known as "the aid station drift." That is the when the stations seem to extend their distances in between one another, they drift further and further apart. It can really play with your mind and I have only experienced that maybe twice before. This course however was really prone for that. Even though they had water only stops in between actual aid stations it didn't matter. Water doesn't satisfy when your hungry, tired, and want to see volunteers. This section was a long 8.8 miles in between aid and on this second lap seemed longer. "The Drift" was creeping into the subconscience. Focus was needed here and the goal of just reaching Miller Farm Rd was all that mattered. I was able to push away the looming dark thoughts and after some teetering miles we shot out of the woods and onto that beautiful hard packed road. Just another small victory to savior before running that last 8 miles to finish off the 100k.<br />
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As we rolled up into the AS #3 the sun was all but gone, darkness was upon us and the night was making it's presence known. This was the moment I had to embrace. The night can either make you feel alive or drain every last ounce of hope from you. I was determined not to allow the latter to happen. At the aid station I downed Coke and ramen and filled up with more Tailwind. We thanked the volunteers and off we went up to Cemetery Hill and straight into evening's cold embrace. As we hiked the hill I just thought of only needing 5.5 miles of woods to run then we exit out at the Drake Museum into the open and civilization. We could do that, no problem. Small baby steps. Chip away. A few miles into it however I found myself starting to feel very sleepy. It was super dark and I just stared at my headlight beam on the ground. The light would bounce off rotting tree stumps and logs casting awkward shadows out of the corner of my eyes. I wasn't hallucinating per se it was more my eyes starting to get lazy and making out shapes in the shadows and dim light. It was the night trying to get inside my head. It was the darkness begging to be my friend and luring me in. I had to push it away and remind myself this was normal and this is what I paid for. This was new to me and I simply had to fight it. Oddly though it was only a little after 8 pm so I thought it was kinda funny I was so sleepy so early. I knew however to just keep pressing on and it would eventually pass and it did. It was close to 10 pm when we exited the forest and onto the Drake Museum entrance, and sometime around 10:30 when we came into the school and the 100k.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Pacer time! 62 miles down only 38.8 left!</i></td></tr>
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<i><b>Loop #3 93.3 miles time 27:48 64th place</b></i><br />
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Casey and Don were dressed and ready to go. We however had to do the usual change socks and shirts and we opted to put on running tights. It was clearly now in the low 40's and threatening to go down into the high 30's overnight. The air seemed super chilled and damp so opting for the tights I felt was a smart move. I changed into a heavy long sleeve tech shirt and nothing else but carried a light jacket just in case. The body sometimes can have issues regulating it's temperature after such a long endurance run so hypothermia was a real threat. Normally I wouldn't be wearing winter tights with the temperatures above freezing. I also was very diligent in reapplying chafing cream to the important areas. I had to remind myself of this and thankfully remembered because the accumulating salty sweat from 17 hours of trail running was building up. We ate some grilled cheese again and I chugged a Starbucks double shot with protein that I had in my drop bags. That was money. A little protein and good dose of caffeine would hopefully propel me to AS #1 at Wolfkiel Run a mere 7 miles away.<br />
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Off we went hiking into the darkness. Casey and Don were clearly stoked to finally be able to get out onto the trail and do what they were there to do which was to pace. It was lighthearted and fun as they interjected a great vibe and confidence into getting us through this dark loop. As we hit the trail head we chit chatted and hiked up the first real climb. Casey and I decided to pull ahead and off we went into the cold night.<br />
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Everything seems like it's in slow motion at night. Time speeds up and distances lengthen. Miles seem extended..aid stations drift aimlessly further apart as if lost at sea. The forest compresses and closes in on you. My senses became heightened. I was loving it! It's quiet and cold and I stared at the beam of light on the ground as my breath condensed in the cold air. The forest took on a different feel, it came alive. We could hear mice and other small woodland creatures scurrying about under the leaves on the forest floor. I felt good and was moving well. The sleepiness was gone and my mood completely shifted from a survival mode to attack mode. The night gave me my second wind and then some. I felt confident and I felt like the biggest and baddest thing in the woods.<br />
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Casey and I cruised along at a nice comfortable pace clicking off the miles. I found myself talking more then I usually do. I think that was the double shot espresso I downed at the school. Either way it was great having an accomplished 100 mile runner behind me pacing and keeping me company. We made our way down to AS#1 along the creek and it was busy and filled with other runners. We grabbed what we needed and quickly took off up the switchbacks. I did not want to get caught lounging at the aid stations. The allure was growing and they were getting inviting so onward we moved. We started running when we got to the top and running well. But there ahead of us was a fat little porcupine waddling down the trail. We chuckled and followed it for a bit then it did a sideways roll right off the trail into a ditch to let us pass. That was probably the strangest thing I have ever seen on a trail run. I didn't remember yelling "on your right" but he let us go by. The miles ticked off and I just concentrated on sipping my half water half mountain dew mix I had in one of my bottles and keeping a nice steady pace with the aid of the trusty poles. Cover the most distance with the least amount of energy expended is always the objective. We exited onto Old Petroleum Road, over the bridge and onward to AS #2. The aid station was hopping with activity for 2 am or so. There was noticeable carnage here. Runners were sprawled out everywhere. Some were getting their legs worked on, some were sitting slumped while friends were giving pep talks, while others were bundled up in blankets just sitting and staring. I was not interested in a blanket or sweet nothings I simply wanted to refill and fuel, change my shirt and get out of dodge. I slammed another one of those Starbucks Double Shot's with protein I had in my drop bag and wow did it taste good. Several minutes later we were out of there and heading to Heisman Trophy Hill. The hardest 17 mile stretch of the race lay before us with only one real aid station to aim for. It was a sobering thought as we climbed and I tried to just block it out.<br />
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Once at the top we resumed our run/shuffle or whatever you would call what I was doing. Casey remarked several times that I was moving really well and looking strong but honestly I thought he was just trying to make me feel better. But then we quickly caught up to a group of three runners who were just slowly walking and we basically blew past them like they were tourists. And trust me I was maybe doing fourteen or fifteen minute miles here so it was no speed session. Further down the trail we caught up with a few more, then a few more. Rinse repeat. We kept catching other folks who seemed either lost or out of it or sleepwalking. I was shocked. Casey was right after all, I was moving well, at least compared to some of the others around me. Then we came up on another fellow all alone. He was walking really slow with his head down. I asked him if he was ok and there was a really long pause and then he quietly said "this just never ends...this just never ends does it?" I really felt bad for him cause he was obviously in a bad place. I looked at my watch and amazingly we were only three or so miles out from Miller Farm Rd and AS #3. So I told him you got three miles to go to the aid station. He didn't respond. He actually might have been sleep walking I don't know. A little further up the trail we ran into another girl all alone sleeping on one of the benches for a vista overlook. She sat up looking really confused and we asked her if she was ok and her response was "I don't know why I'm so tired." I have to admit I kind of chuckled at that. I mean it is 4 am and we all have been running for 23 hours now so that may have something to do with it. I am certain if I laid down on a bench I would be snoring in 30 seconds. Anyway we told her about the close proximity of the aid station and off we went. We continued on and at one point we came to a clearing and I turned off my head light for a moment and just stared at the night sky and all the stars. It was so crisp and clear. The starry sky was spectacular. It was just a quick reminder of how lucky we are to be able to do this. It seemed strange I was out here running but I know I wasn't dreaming. Onward we ran.<br />
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Off in the distance we could see a runner coming towards us. That was odd I thought. She seemed young and fit and smiling. I wasn't sure if she was a local or race participant or what but she passed by us and said "only a little over a mile to the next aid station". Oh good we thought. Then a mile came and went. Then another mile. "Why would she say that?" I said to Casey as we were climbing Ida Tarbell's Wrath and not realizing it. Rule number one is to NEVER say how far to a runner..NEVER! Especially if you have no idea! And just like that I entered a bad place. Even Casey was confused as to where we were and why we haven't reached the road. The hill just kept going and going and no sign of the road. I was mad. I was pissed off and mad as hell that she said that. I shouldn't have been and I should have just brushed it off but in that state it's tough. Those few miles were my lowest point in the race and all because of a simple phrase muttered by someone. I expended a lot of negative energy in those miles that I should not have. I really tried to clear my mind. I was thinking back to some podcasts I listened to a few months back. I recalled listening to an interview with Nickademus Hollon discussing his running of Tor De Geants, a mountain race in Europe covering 200 miles and 78,000 ft of gain. He discussed the power of the mind and how you need to switch your thinking when it sucks to smiling and actually talking to yourself and saying things like "this is good, this is what it's supposed to feel like at this point in the race." Simply talking to yourself out loud in a positive way when the going gets tough will pull you out of that dark place. Smiling also, you need to smile. So I started to try it. I was almost arguing with myself. "This sucks this sucks...no no no this is good..this is perfect..you knew this was coming and here it is just keep smiling cause you will never need to do this section again!" Try to find one positive thing. I deployed this tactic over and over on these 2 or 3 miles and have to say it was working. It still sucked to a degree but just sucked considerably less. I just kept mumbling to myself positive things. And sure enough we heard a car and saw the road. A car was just sitting here with it's lights on which we thought was strange but the more light the better I guess. We popped out onto the road and jogged down into AS#3.<br />
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Casey had to take care of some business in the men's room so I decided to sit in a chair one of the nice volunteers pulled over for me. I said "no way I'm sitting in front of that blazing fire." They had a nice roaring fire going and sitting all around it were people slumped over snoring away. I didn't want any part of that but I did want to just sit for a bit while I waited for Casey so I sat in the cold over in front of the water fill up at the table. The kind volunteers got me black coffee and ramen and broth. The coffee was incredible. It just tasted so good as it is. No cream or sugar needed. The ramen was good as was the broth. It was just hard to eat I have to say. I wasn't feeling it but I ate the ramen. I sat there staring into space. The sun was going to come up wihin the next hour and half or so it was that time in the very early morning where you start to get really sleepy. Sitting here for five minutes was really nice as I could gear up for the next 5.5 miles of woods to get to the Drake museum. I thought to myself I could do that. Casey came out and off we went up Cemetery Hill in a much better mood then the last few miles. We made quick work and just kept shuffling along. It was still foggy so as the sun came out it just slowly became less dark but still foggy and the mountains obscured any real sunrise. It didn't matter anyway. That was a long five miles to the museum but it was sunny out when we popped out off the trail and around the frosted grass mile and up the bike path to cross the mat at mile 93.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mile 93..so close to being done but another 2.5 hrs to go ..ugh.</i></td></tr>
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<b><i>Final Coming Home Loop 100.8 miles 30:33 64th place</i></b><br />
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Almost done. Almost. I sat in my chair and ate a little and Dave Walker came over and was grilling me. So good to see him as he was upbeat and smiling as usual. He said things like "isn't that bike path horrible?" I laughed and smiled and agreed. He responded that the "next 7 miles are easy, no problem!" It was great humor that was hilarious and the way he said it was like don't worry about it piece of cake. He knew the deal. So up we went and he walked with us to the entrance road and wished us well. As we went down the neighborhood road and entered the bike path we got to see so many friends coming up the home stretch to finish off the race. It was so awesome. I saw Lori and Dean Johnson, Janine and Bob Gusztaw and Paul Encarnacion gunning for the finish. It made me happy to see familiar faces about to cross the finish line. So up the trail head we went for the two miles to the split. I was pretty slow but moving consistently slow at least with the poles. These two miles took an eternity. The sun was shining through the trees and I realized I had been out here for over 28 hours. It was sobering. We finally reached the split and again it felt odd to go left after always going right. I kept checking with Casey to see if we had enough time left and he assured me we did. I could not think for myself other then to move forward. We passed by the remnants of the Acid Works factory and you could smell the chemicals drifting up from the soil. We ran along a flat grassy section that again seemed to take a month and a day and finally came to a cool suspension bridge. Crossing the bridge you came up to the Hill of Truth. It was a series of switchbacks that climbed and met back up with the final two miles or so of trail before exiting at the Drake Museum. The climb wasn't so bad really it was the two miles after that seemed to once again drag on for hours. We managed to get those two miles done and around the guiderail and across the bridge. As we entered the bike path from the Jersey Bridge I finally realized I was actually going to finish this race. I just ran 100 miles! A year ago I just ran my first 50K. This is total madness. As we crossed the bridge leading up to the school I ran ahead, turned the corner to the straightway and crossed that finish line to a round of applause. Wow what a nice round of cheers to receive from strangers and other runners. It was really special. My wife was crying and said "you did it you did it!' Tom Jennings was smiling and clapping and I shook his hand and thanked him for a hard but beautiful course. He handed me the buckle and sticker and it was now official. I ran my first 100 miles in 30 hours 33 minutes and 33 seconds. A new PR.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Buckle in hand, sharing a laugh with RD Tom Jennings. And yes those poles are holding me up.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>When can I do it again!!</em></td></tr>
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A few thoughts.</div>
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1. Pacers are huge. Casey and Don were amazing with how they crewed and paced and were a huge part of the success of this race.</div>
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2. I really enjoyed the overnight running and I never thought I would. </div>
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3. I ran the race of my life. I paced about as good as I could ever have asked, for my ability level. I took salt every hour, I drank Tailwind consistently while mixing in real food. I only really hit one low point but managed to pull out of it with some self help talking tricks.</div>
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4. I need to pack my drop bags with a little more thought.</div>
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5. I should have packed my Pearl Izumi M2 trail shoes. I would have wore them for sure at some point instead of the tired Cascadia's'</div>
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6. My training was solid coming into this race with an emphasis on mountain running and climbing on the weekends and road speed work during the week. But to finish MMT, Eastern States and/or Grindstone I will need to train with more elevation gain. Which means more trips to the AT.. Bring it!!</div>
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Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-48747519052118216922015-08-31T17:03:00.003-07:002015-09-01T11:23:11.460-07:00The Ghost and The Upstairs Room - Running The Call of The Wilds Mountain Marathon<br />
When I was six my father remarried and we moved into my step mother's very large and old three story home over on Church Road in Ardmore, a suburb of Philadelphia. The house had what seemed like thirty rooms. There were three rooms and a full bathroom on the third floor. This is where my room was. The staircase leading up from the first floor was steep and would climb forever and I hated that I had to climb so many steps to go to bed each night. I also didn't like the fact that I was alone up there and so far away from the front door exit and my father and sister's on the second floor. But I wasn't really alone. Something else was there but at the time I didn't really understand it. That bathroom was a place to avoid. Something was wrong with it and as a six year old I could instinctually feel it. To this day my two older sisters would silently nod their head with enlarged eyes if I bring it up. Years later my father would tell us of him being routinely woken up in the middle of the night by a crying baby. He would walk the house and check on us and find we were all fast asleep. There was no infant in the house. At other times you could hear the large 1980's style stereo playing way off in the distance up on the third floor. There was no one upstairs so we would make the long hike up from the first floor to turn it off. Hours later it would be on again and not a soul was up there. I disliked that house and those stairs and that climb. There was buried fear there. There were demons there in all sense. Where am I going with all this? I have no idea, but I'm sure I'll figure it all out at some point! So fast forward to when I started running two years ago. Like most new road runners I hated to climb I hated hills. I would avoid them. Like the stairs and like that bathroom on the third floor. Then something clicked. I can't actually put my finger on it but I began to enjoy them. It was shortly after I discovered the pure joy of trail running. I wanted to climb more and more and higher and higher. I wasn't scared anymore. I confronted the avoidance. Then I saw this race last year and I knew I just had to run it but I had to wait an entire year to do so. The wait was well worth it.<br />
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The Torbert Trail climb at mile 24 was and is the defining section of this race. It was specially set aside just for the marathoners. This climb was purposely placed here at this point in the race I believe to get you to dig deep, real deep. You were forced to confront your fears or turn around and give up. The RD wants to leave you with a lasting impression and remind you that free lunches are not given away here. There is no other explanation. It was genius! I wish I could have shaken his hand at the finish! The 100 mile folks did not have to do this section. They were spread out and lost in their own world along multiple other ridge lines. So it was here on this mountainside you discovered just how badly you really wanted it. You either left your crumbling will on that climb or you embraced the lactic acid pulsing in your quads and calves. I was forewarned of this particular section of trail by David Walker in an exchange we had regarding the race a week prior. David of course is behind the masterfully beautiful Worlds End 50k and 100k in Forksville as well as Montour 24 in Danville. Two races I did and loved. He knows these trails pretty well. Here is his simple but direct response to me asking about that final big climb at Call of the Wilds.<br />
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<em>"No breaks in the climb. After coming down Gleason... 1,000 ft or so technical descent in .4 miles...Torbert will murder you."</em><br />
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My eyes lit up with joy upon reading this. I mean no clear headed ultrarunner in their right mind would steer away from that. That comment is like a moth to a flame. However if there was one tiny little thing that was somewhat overlooked on my part was that those descents would slowly over the course of the previous 24 miles grind down my legs like a buzzsaw. I love descending, I fancy myself an above average runner on technical downhills. I enjoy them. I've trained and concentrated trying to better my technique over the last year on climbing and descending on rocky and rooty steep trails. 1,000 foot climbs and 1,000 foot descents on the Appalachian Trail over and over again. However those rocks on the AT don't move. Those rocks stay put and you can float over them if you have the foot speed and the guts to do so. But here in Waterville Pennsylvania I was about to find out that these particular climbs, but more shockingly the descents, were a different animal. These rocks moved and wobbled and tilted and were smeared with the darkest and blackest forest floor loam that made them as slick as if they were smeared with bacon grease. The trails were dry but the surrounding forest floor rocks and moss seemed to be locked in a suspended state of dampness. It's hard to describe and you just have to experience it firsthand to really understand.<br />
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So there I was waking up at 2:30 am for the 170 mile drive up the Pa Turnpike, across Route 80, and up to Waterville. I don't mind driving the morning of a race. I have a whole ritual and kinda enjoy those dark miles on the highway to mentally prepare for what I know will be a tough day. The drive is almost always uneventful. However upon exiting from 220 and onto Route 44 as I made the right hand turn I was face to face with an imposing mountain side shrouded in mist. It was stunning seeing the mountains block out the sunrise. It was one of those "oh wow" moments that adds to the excitement. As I made the drive along the mountains I followed four other cars clearly going to the same location as me. We had a little caravan of cars that mimicked those small caravans you wind up in on the trail during a race. All of us were going too fast of course desperately wanting to arrive at our location and get ready. Arrive we did and the sun was trying to peak between the mountain tops.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The energy was in the air. This will be fun!</i></td></tr>
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As I got ready at my car I saw Dylan and Paul and the fun began. They came over and we talked and laughed and discussed our super loose strategies for the race which is basically "Ummm yea let's run this monster and try not to get hurt or blow up." Well, that was my strategy at least.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dylan and Paul before lift off. Dylan would later go on to take 2nd place and almost win the damn thing.</i></td></tr>
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I then I saw Mick whom I met on the Oil Creek trail a few weeks back when a few of us went out for a recon loop there. Checking the watch we realized it was almost go time so we strolled over to the start area and man I think I recognized another 20 runners or so. It was incredible. It was like a reunion. Jes Haslund "The Danish Assassin" aka "The Copenhagen Clubber" showed up and was ready to run despite his phantom bad back (more on that later). Jes is from Denmark and is also a member of TrailWhippass.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Jes in obvious pain at the start and your's truly 5 minutes before takeoff.</i></td></tr>
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I then saw Brian Crownover, Ron Kappus, Gilbert Gray, and Paul introduced me to John Johnson who won WE100K and is one of PA's elite. I was literally talking to John about The Dam Full Marathon (which he won last year) coming up in September and how we both love the race and how surprising not many people are aware of this little gem. I was in mid sentence when all of a sudden the crowd was off and up the road we went.<br />
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<i>Miles 0-9 to The View</i><br />
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The first mile was over before I could blink. It was on the blacktop road and I chatted with Jes and Paul as we slowly warmed up. We then turned into the main campground site, ran down the main road and then up in to the woods on some nice benign single track. It was here I found myself running behind Laurie who I'm friends with on social media but actually never met. How funny it was to finally meet her and shake her hand while we ran down the trail. We chatted away and laughed as we ran and Paul was in front and remarked how high up we were already. It was rather high, as we looked down over the edge. I was actually wondering how in the hell did we get so high up and it seemed like we were running on a flat trail. We crossed a little creek and up over Dam Run Road and met our first climb of five for the day. I took it slow and easy and felt strong on the climb. It was around 1,000 vertical feet which is what I'm used to so not a huge deal. The loose rocks were slick however and that took a bit more concentration to manage. But about halfway up Jes, who was behind me I'm sure limping those first four miles from his intense back pain, slapped me on the backside and passed me on the left (on a 30% slope mind you). He darted up the remaining portion of that climb as if running to a Claus Meyer book signing with all you can eat smørrebrød. That was the last I saw of Jes until about eight hours later when we was lounging shirtless at the finish line.<br />
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After cresting the top of the first climb it was a fun few miles heading downward where we crossed Ramsey Run on a little wooden foot bridge. It was Paul, Laurie and I chatting away about Laurel Highlands and MMT and various other races. It's the part of running these races that really is so special, the sharing of miles with good people with a few laughs mixed in. After the foot bridge we began another climb of around 800 feet that would lead us right up to one of the signature views of the area, aptly name The View.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A runner smartly using poles for the second climb.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Pine Creek Gorge. Appreciate the gift and don't take it for granted.</i></td></tr>
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We actually had to leave the course and take a short spur trail to get to the vista but it was well worth the five or so minutes that it took. A few other runners running the race came down and we snapped some pictures of each other and took that view in. Funny thing about that view, is that the time it took to see it in the end cost me a sub nine hour finish which is what I was gunning for from the start. However running past that view and not stopping just to gain a few minutes on my final time would have been worse. Life is too short not to appreciate what running gives us and that vista reminded me of that.<br />
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<i>Miles 9 to 25 Jersey Mills Aid Station</i><br />
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Mile ten came and went and Paul and I were running together and running well. We then hit another 1,000 ft mile long gnarly descent down to the Ramsey aid station at the Pine Creek rail trail and iron bridge. Ramsey was another fantastic aid station and a volunteer immediately offered up ice and water and whatever I needed. She took my bottle and went to work. That is a great volunteer and I thanked her several times over.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Paul all smiles before a big climb.</i></td></tr>
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Off I went down the rail trail to the bridge and Paul was telling the story of the attacking porcupine that went after him last year during the night at the Pine Creek Challenge. I was laughing because that visual was hilarious, Paul with his poles on a lonely rail trail at 2 am going to blows and fending off a rabid porcupine. That laugh was needed for me at least as we jogged off the ease of the rail trail and starting climb number three. This side of the mountain was hot and suffocating as we started the nearly three mile climb up to Ramsey Vista Road. The heat of the late morning was creeping in and it was closing in on noontime. The humidity lingered here under the canopy. I lost Paul here momentarily as he seemed to just float up the mountain and I was struggling a bit with my heart rate and the heat. That three miles took me an hour. I never stopped but the slow hands on knees hike up and steady power walk in between took some time. These climbs did however make you feel alive. The course was swinging and landing some punches but you take them in stride and continue on. I wait for my heart rate to drop take some fluids maybe a Gu and start the jog down through the rhododendron lined ridge line trail. As soon as I start to run it then becomes apparent we are dropping down on yet another two mile long descent heading into aid station three at Lower Pine Bottom. I catch up to Paul again as he's filming runners with his GoPro as they ran past and down the steep switch backs. Initially this descent was steep and rough but then maybe the last half mile became super runnable and I was bombing it big time. It felt really good to open up my stride and I was running at a tempo pace which is so fun on the side of a mountain with the Pine Creek flowing below. I was able to pass several runners on this stretch who were walking, reaffirming to me that my simple race strategy of running with the course instead of against it was in full motion.<br />
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At the bottom of the mountain we popped out onto Route 44 and hung a left up the paved entrance to the DCNR Management Offices where the aid station was. This paved entrance was totally exposed to the noonday sun as we hiked up the long road. The heat bounced off the blacktop and hit you in the face. I jogged through the parking lot and immediately saw Mel Lancet who was working the aid station. Also there was Ron Kappus and Bob B. They were smiling and just lounging about cheering on their friends. I was somewhat envious to a degree. I wanted to be in flip flops just lounging in the shade cheering on friends. As I filled my bottles and stuffed my face Ron mentioned to me that I had another short climb coming up. I'll have to thank him for that when I see him again because that climb wasn't short. Leaving the aid station I was alone once again. Leaving this station you ran downhill through a wooded area, across the box culvert, and onto the side of the road where you ran across the bridge and onto the rail trail before quickly darting back up towards the mountain again. At this point you were faced with a one mile climb of around 1,100 ft up switchbacks. This mile took me thirty minutes but even so I swiftly passed another runner halfway up whom I never saw again. It was a little after noon and the sun was pounding on this side of the mountain. Once you finished the switchbacks the climb looked over but it was not. You then had a long steady climb up an old logging type road. This climb was the hardest yet but once you reached the top there was some nice running to be had and nice views. Unfortunately that nice running lasted a little less then a mile. On top of this ridge I passed another runner who was walking. I asked him how he was and he said he's been better. I wished him well and began the 1,100 ft descent back down towards Pine Creek. I descended this all alone and it was rough. By rough I mean descending on slopes of thirty to forty percent on loose slick rocks. It was slow and I was all alone but I was determined to move as quickly as my abilities would allow. Once at the bottom it was a two and half mile section of very runnable logging road that traveled above the rail trail below it. It was mostly shaded and very easy going. Again it was here you needed to hammer down what was given to you. I didn't exactly have much of a hammer left more like a rubber mallet but I did manage to pass two more runners and catch up with Paul and his buddy Julius. We now had a little train of three going and managed to quickly pass a pack of about four runners as we rolled into Jersey Mills, the final aid station just shy of mile twenty five.<br />
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<i>Mile 25 to mile 30 and the finish</i><br />
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Jersey Mills was an oasis and bustling with activity as we rolled in. The volunteers here were tremendous and very attentive in getting us all ice and watermelon. The heat and humidity was really blazing here at this point. It was just after 2 pm as we started the long and slow slog up the Torbert Trail. Paul and Julius quickly passed me only about three tenths of a mile in and another runner also passed me whom I will call "Timmy." Now when Timmy passed me he told me the story from last year of how on this very climb several runners basically bailed on this mountain and jogged back down and quit the race outright. As I was panting and sweating profusely I was only able to mumble a "wow." All I could think of was this climb can't be that bad. But then I looked up and all I could see was a never ending tunnel that appeared to get steeper the further off you looked. What made it worse was that way way off in the distance I could see a distant runner who looked as small as a toy doll slowly climbing into infinity. At this point I stopped to catch my breath as did Timmy above me and Julius and Paul further up. The way to climb this sucker without poles was simple, head down and hands on knees and grind. Grind like you have never before and then rest at one of the trees seemingly strategically planted many years ago every fifty feet or so up the trail. So that's how I approached it. And sure enough I started gaining ground on Timmy. I looked up at one point Timmy was actually sitting down on that hill, right in the middle of the trail. Closer and closer I got to Timmy and then I passed him almost as if in slow motion. He graciously said nice job to me and upward I marched. Julius was almost at the top and he just stood there resting. I patted him on the back and went passed. At the top of that climb were two other runners just siting there. I recognized Mick from the run we did out at Oil Creek. He seemed fine but apparently he was cramping up. I was hellbent on finishing at that point so I had tunnel vision.<br />
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A short stretch of seemingly flat trail had me in a run/walk pattern after Torbert. I was trying to bring my heartrate down and calm myself for the final push to the finish. Then I saw the trail was littered with bear scat. Then I came up on some more. Then I heard a loud snap just off the trail. I stopped and listened and realized again I was totally alone. I started running. But then I was thinking your not supposed to run away from a bear. I was chuckling to myself as my mind was swimming in thoughts of bear shit and future maulings. At one point I actually looked over my shoulder to see if one was behind me. I told myself to snap out of it. And there it was, a bandit water station. Thank god for them. I grabbed some water here and passed another runner. I then saw Paul fixing his pack and off we went to tackle a very tough and long descent. This one was only about a 900 ft but on ground up quads it was slow going. I had to brake on long sections of this drop. Of course using your quads as brakes minces them and is fatal in a long race but for this distance there really was no choice. Its funny how time speeds up and distance slows the further you go. Why is this descent taking so long I thought to myself. My god is there a bottom to this I mumbled. It was comical. Finally at the bottom we crossed a small bridge over a stream and came up on a hunting cabin. We started the long hike up this slow moving hill and realized this was the final climb. Paul graciously shared some more water with me as I made a silly mistake and did not fill up at the bandit station. As we started to climb up The Love Run trail, Paul floated away up that hill and I struggled. I deployed the same tactic as on Torbert. Head down and grind. Ain't nobody got time for complaining I thought. Once at the top I actually caught up to Paul again. Up and over and down along Panther run we went. He sprinted ahead like a gazelle and I tried to keep up as we bombed along. We passed a few tricky sections that were slow going on tired legs but once passed it was a sprint to the finish. That feeling of pure joy as you touch down on blacktop, turn left, and tempo style through the grass across the finish. All done at 9 hours and 1 minute. Now where is that beer stand.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Loving life. Photo by Bo Hagaman</i></td></tr>
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Some random thoughts.<br />
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1. One of the things that I have learned to do over the past year is to take what the course gives you. Like the saying goes "don't be a pig, pig's get slaughtered." This particular course had very runnable sections believe it or not and especially along the ridges however and for me I needed to conserve my energy and legs for those sections. Some of the trail was super soft almost spongy and springy single track. This seems to happen in hemlock and pine groves sections where decades of dropped needles slowly decompose in the rich forest floor soil. This course had many stretches like that as do many of the Central Pa races. That is what you had to take when it was presented.<br />
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2. The climbs. Oh I loved them. I learned a very valuable lesson at Breakneck Point Marathon last April. I was not prepared at all for that level of climbing and I left that course up in Beacon NY a whipped pup. Since then I have trained for climbs such as that and it really payed off. I felt strong on all of them except the last smaller one on The Love Run trail. Months of hard work does pay off and I will continue to work at it heading into Oil Creek and next year for the Triple Crown. I'm not afraid anymore to go upstairs.<br />
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3. The trail community and especially the ultra community in the Mid Atlantic and Northeast just rocks. Plain and simple. So many friends and so much fun can be had. Next year I will hopefully toe the line at the big dance here. I have a year to get ready.<br />
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Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-59729446848879068622015-07-30T11:35:00.002-07:002015-07-31T03:17:10.000-07:00Round and Round at Montour 24 (12 hour)<div>
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Montour is a timed event something completely foreign and new to me. I love single loop trail races or point to point type races. Multiple loops on a track or otherwise scare me. I guess it's the fear of boredom or something. Looped courses just seem mentally harder due to the ease of simply stopping. But on the plus side there is no DNF and you are always so close to supplies and bathrooms. It's about convenience I suppose. So since my A race for the year is Oil Creek 100 in October I decided early on the year that the more looped type races I would sign up for the better. OC100 is a looped course with three 50k loops and one 7.7 mile mini loop.<br>
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Signing up for this race was sort of a last minute deal. I was stalking the race but just couldn't get myself to hit the enter button. Until of course I ran Worlds End 50K back in May. That race put on by the same RD David Walker was nothing short of spectacular. I floundered in that race due to the high humidity on race day but the feel and vibe of that race coupled with the jaw dropping beauty of the course and the aid stations and many friends I made there had me all but destined to sign up for the 12 hour day race. It was perfectly set up for a nice training run to work on nutrition and my speed walking skills. I didn't feel I needed the 24 hour event as I didn't need anything over 50 miles. I also had several friends, Ryan and Casey, doing the 24 hour event and Destrie doing the 12 hour night race so I would have plenty of friends there. So off to Danville I went, just a short two hour drive from home.<br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Casey and the BRCC crew all set up.</em></td></tr>
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I set up my chair and supplies with Casey and his BRCC crew Ken and Dan who came up from Maryland. They were all doing the 24 hour event. I chatted with them while setting up and found Ryan and Lauren set up over near the start. Ryan introduced Lauren a newly transplanted Floridian from Orlando but originally from Chicago who now lives in Philly. This was her first Northeast race and more importantly first PA race. As we stood there chatting we realized the race was about to start and all of a sudden we were off along the wet grass and in to the woods for the first 1.5 mile loop. We chatted some as we jogged along the creek. The course was well shaded, super easy to run, and flat. There was one little hill to climb each loop but it took maybe a minute to climb it each time. Just enough to break it up I thought but I prefer more climbing then more flat running. Before you know it you are back at the start crossing the mat.<br>
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I could do this I thought. This won't be so bad as long as it didn't get overly hot and humid. My goal was to run 50 miles. My previous 50 miler at Dirty German in Philly was sort of a mess really. I mean I finished it but it was ugly. That race was unbearably humid and I cramped badly and overheated. This race was to see if I could avoid that fiasco and finish on a somewhat more upbeat note. So that was my simple plan. I would rely on Tailwind and whatever fruit and things would be at the aid station. To my surprise they had single pack servings of Tailwind at the aid station! That was a huge score cause I didn't need to fumble around with scooping it out of my drop box bag. They also had ice cold Tang which rules by the way and fresh brewed ice tea and various cold watermelon and cantaloupe. <br>
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Lap after lap went by and I finally glanced at my watch and I was at mile 10 already and running comfortably at an almost tempo pace. I was running too quickly. I knew it and even told Ryan and Lauren I was running too fast. But did I slow down? No not really. Somewhere around this time the heat was creeping in and I suddenly needed to go to the bathroom. This never happens to me. I never use the bathroom in the middle of a run unless I ate something odd. Luckily the bathroom is only 1.5 miles away at worst so again that was nice. That break pretty much killed my running flow and cost me at least 10 minutes but nothing you can do. I did feel better after though and continued the lapfest. I was having a good time passing some folks then they would pass me then I would pass them again. It was Groundhog Day. Every runner was so great cause we would all say hello or give a thumbs up.<br>
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Mile 20 came and went and I decided to start the music flowing to keep my mind from focusing on another 30 miles. I was starting to speed walk a little more on the flats and was completely content with that and mixing in running when I felt like it. I was still managing 12-13 minute miles which was plenty fast to get 50 miles in 12 hours. Lauren and Ryan came up to me at one point and Ryan was running strong and went ahead. Lauren convinced me to start jogging with her instead of walking which I did. She had the quote of the day for me, she said "fake run." Apparently her coach who worked with her to finish Ancient Oaks 100 miler gave her that idea. Ya know just fake run which is really faster then a walk but somewhat slower then a jog. I loved it cause I'm not fast at all and have no official track background so I'm a natural in the phony running department. And sure enough to my surprise it worked. I was trying so hard at this point to keep my heart rate in zone 2 and not let it spike like I let it the first 10 miles and the "fake run" idea was keeping it low. She went ahead shortly after that as I slowed down again but that tip was perfect for me and I would use that idea the rest of the way.</div>
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That space between a 50k and 50 miles is like a dead zone. Or better yet more like a chasm. It really is fairly wide and you just have to not think about another 19 or so miles. But I was of course. Run walk run walk run walk over and over. The fun part of doing a 1.5 mile loop is that before you can really start feeling sorry for yourself you are crossing the mat again and staring at the aid station again. Then you tell yourself "hey it's only another 1.5 miles, I mean really who can't do that right?" I told my brain this a few times around lap 23 through 26. It was pretty hot and I was almost chugging a mixture of Tailwind, Tang, and Brewed Tea constantly. I was careful not to give myself the dreaded "sloshy belly" but I think I was starting to really get close. Onward I went and almost always walked from the start to the woods line then jogged to and across the planked stream crossing, walked the hill, and walked half of the straightaway then ran the footbridge section and walked a portion of the rooty trail then ran to the finish. I really tried to adhere to this because I needed to keep my mind engaged in some sort of diversion plan once it was clear I had to move to a half speed walk/half jog approach. I also had to make sure my heart rate stayed in zone 2. This after all is 100 mile training and not a race.<br>
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I met Bill who is 66 years young sometime in the mile thirties for me. Because of his walking I passed him at least one time each lap. He didn't run at all ever. He limp walked which resulted in a slow pace. He looked like he was in pain but I'm not sure if he was or not. He didn't appear to be in pain but I could be wrong on this of course. It was rather amazing that he was out here for 12 hours and managed a total of 15 laps. It was nothing short of inspirational. I asked him how he was and he chuckled in a very upbeat tone "kinda slow!" I gave him encouragement and shook his hand introducing myself. Another runner ran by and gave him some love also. This moment right here sums up ultra running for me. The grit and determination this guy had was top notch. I didn't know his life story or why he was out here but it didn't matter because he was doing it. I wished him well and walked away while choking back some tears. I felt really emotional after speaking with him and his gutty performance gave me a lift. I went on the pass him several more times and shouted out to him a few times when I went by and he would raise his arm signaling he was fighting onward. One of the highlights for me during this race was meeting Bill.<br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Bill getting it done!</em></td></tr>
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Onward and round and round I went. But around mile 40 I simultaneously started to feel a chafing issue coming on along with several blisters on the bottom of my left foot and pinkie toe. The blisters I ignored figuring I'm not going to tend to my feet when I'm almost done. The chafing was really bothersome however and it was in a spot I have never experienced before. Let's just say a very private spot that only my gender has. A spot I failed to apply lube or glide. I ignored it as well for some reason thinking I could block it out. I finished that lap and did another then another then on my thirtieth lap I felt raw and stinging and my mind quit at that point. My mind took control and I was to end on this lap. I strolled across the mat at mile 45 and walked into the aid station and told David I was done. I then proceeded to tell him how much I enjoyed the event and how surprisingly fun it was. I got a bowl of chili, sat down, and ate.<br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Ryan high on life at mile 40!</em></td></tr>
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I still had 1:26 on the clock when I finished which made me feel really good. It doesn't really matter that I missed my goal by 5 miles. 50 miles is simply a number. I didn't have to prove to myself I could run 50 miles I've already done that. This run was more about feeling better after running such a long distance and I felt pretty darn good, which is good because I had a solo 2 hour drive home. And honestly with almost 90 minutes left on the clock if I really had to I could have cleaned up and gone back out for the extra 5 miles. But 45 is a great training day in my book plus I got to hang out with Destrie, a fellow TrailWhippass teammate, and cheer on Ryan and Casey and his crew for a little bit. It was great day in Danville for sure and I hope to return for the full 24 hour event next year. <br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Done and happily eating chili.</em></td></tr>
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A few takeaways from this event.<br>
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1. I felt pretty good except my hip flexors were really starting to tighten up sometime after the 50k distance and I wasn't used to that. Because of this my stride became short and I really could tell I was starting to shuffle. In hindsight maybe I should have taken a few moments to stretch out or whatever but I foolishly didn't. That will be something to watch for at Labor Pains 12 hour in September.<br>
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2. Way to much "lounging" at the aid station. Can't do that in a 100 miler for sure. I should have taken a baggie and filled it then left and ate on the walk to the tree line. But kudos to David and his wife and the volunteers for having such a fantastic aid station where ravenous runners like me didn't want to leave. <br>
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3. I need to eat more protein and fat during a long event. I lived on Tailwind and fruit which is fine but toward the 10 hour mark I was craving fatty protein rich foods and I did not address that craving which I should have. The body knows what it wants. Again something to work on.<br>
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4. I enjoyed the looped course way more then I originally thought I would. Lucky for me I have another 12 hour event coming up and a 6 hour event. And my fellow runners where so great and fun to cheer on. The convenience of the aid and bathrooms and personal stuff right along the course was huge. <br>
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Montour 24 is truly a big gem in a small town in Central Pennsylvania. <br>
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Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-84497669265971952542015-06-02T07:04:00.002-07:002016-04-12T09:48:14.184-07:00Into The Wild at World's EndThe PA Department of Conservation and Natural Resources describes Word's End State Park as <em>"virtually in a class by itself, this wild, rugged and rustic area seems almost untamed".</em> After spending more then ten hours and running thirty four miles within this park and surrounding Loyalsock Forest in a single day, I cannot agree more. Up until I signed up for this inaugural event I had never even heard of this park and I have lived in Southeastern Pennsylvania my entire life. The area that the park resides is referred to as the Endless Mountains which is part of the Appalachian Mountain chain. The park is almost entirely surrounded by the Loyalsock State Forest. The ecology is diverse and wild, almost unworldly here. The term "Jurassic park" like was used by some runners. I have run trails in a variety of forests in the Northeast but never have I seen a place as magical as this, and it's only a little over two hours from my doorstep.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Ryan gunning for the age group awards!</em><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Ready to hit the forest.</em></td></tr>
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The RD David Walker gave us our instructions wished us well and rang the cow bell and off we went up the park service road.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Photo by Robert Stoudt.</em></td></tr>
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It was muggy and humid at 7 am. I started the race with two fellow TWA members Ryan and Jes. That lasted for about a mile at best as they are much faster then me. As soon as we left the blacktop and into the woods I was on my own. There was maybe 70 runners or so for the 50K. The 100K folks went out two hours earlier at 5 am.<br />
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<em>Miles 0-3.35 High Rock Aid Station</em><br />
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We did the paved park campground loop passing some cabins and campers just waking up and coming out to cheer us on. The air was clammy, heavy and humid as we crossed the bridge overtop the Loyalsock Creek. You could hear the runners feet and rushing water underneath. The air was also saturated with the previous nights campfires as they smoldered away. About a half mile in we started a small climb around the campground then another climb into the forest. It was only a few hundred feet climb but rocky and fun. We then ran about a mile down hill to the first aid station at mile 3.35. These first three plus miles ticked off quickly. I was already almost drenched in sweat so when I saw the oranges at the first aid station it was so nice to inhale several chunks. Fresh cut fruit is the #1 best thing at any aid station. Your body absorbs it instantly, it's refreshing, and it quenches the thirst. <br />
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<em>Miles 3.35-10.79 Sones Pond Aid Station</em><br />
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As I started the first real climb out of High Rock it seemed I was alone already. The race field is small and the course diverse so that often will spread the field out very quickly. This was maybe an 800 ft hike up the mountain. I was sipping my usual Tailwind and downed two saltstick tabs. The plan was to avoid the vice lock calf cramps I had at the Dirty German 50 miler two weeks prior. I finished that 50 miler but it was a painful slog on the last loop. I could not allow the same thing to happen on a course with vert. Every hour two salt tabs. The heat and humidity were really creeping in but I felt confident with the plan.</div>
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This section was a good 7 miles to the next aid station. As I made my way down to a small waterfall I was already having a difficult time picking up the small orange flags. Maybe that's because they were above my head scaling a boulder climb. This was reminiscent of the Breakneck cliff climb I had done at the inaugural race in the Hudson Highlands. Of course on a much much smaller scale and not as steep and deadly. The benefit of doing super difficult races such as Breakneck is that is makes climbs such as these a little more bearable and mentally manageable. It was still however a hard and beautiful climb on a very humid morning. Due to climbs and terrain such as this I had a hard time settling into anykind of flow. The trail was rocky but runnable but it was fairly technical. I had rolled my left ankle at Ironmaster's Challenge and at TNF Bear Mountain and I didn't want to do it here and hobble the rest of the way so I was picking my spots on when to walk short rocky sections or run them. This resulted in a stop and start for several miles. Then I slipped on a flat exposed wet piece of slate and down I went on my left hip. Thankfully it was flat rock and not a sharp rocky section. I'm used to falling on my hip as a skateboarder back in my youth. I used to do it all the time and would get massive bruises. We called them "hippers" back in the day. No biggie my chiropractor will adjust my hip when I get home. I resumed running and then my friend Ryan and a women came up behind me and said they got lost and took a wrong turn with a bunch of others. Ryan ran ahead and the women and I started talking. Her name was Helene and she seemed to be having the same issues as I was. We both were searching for our running rhythm. So we talked about her experience last year at Eastern States and how we both are doing Oil Creek 100 in October. She has done JFK50 for many years and was running really well here but we both had a hard time finding that groove. This section was beautiful however, rocky technical singletrack then soft wet pine needle covered track. The forest smelled sweet here and that was calming in a way. As we chatted we came upon a pond and saw the aid station in the distance. What a relief, as that was a long seven miles!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Helene and I rollin into Sones Pond aid station.</em><br />
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<em>Miles 10.79-16.34 Cold Run Aid Station</em><br />
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Once again the volunteers here were wonderful. The women there filled my bottle and said "why don't you eat something." I was fumbling with my Tailwind single pack serving and the women said "I'll take care of that you should eat." That sort of kindness always leaves a lasting impression and that cannot be taught to a volunteer. That is genuine and so appreciated. The watermelon was a godsend. It tasted so good I could of eaten the entire bowl. I thanked them and off we went up the road. I met up with Helen here again and we both took another wrong turn to the right into a clearing. Not sure why we did it I think there was a trail with fresh matted down grass that we assumed was the right way. After several minutes we noticed other runners going past and up the road. We quickly backtracked and followed them further up the road and back into the forest. Helene pulled away at this point and I caught up with the four guys from Maryland representing VHTRC. These guys were great. I knew Paul Encarnacion from IG and FB and finally met him at the start and I recognized Gilbert Gray who also did Zion 100 with Paul. Paul made a wonderful GoPro video of their adventure out in Zion and I highly recommend checking that out on YouTube (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3c74ggpbk0">see here</a>) Jeff and Eric were the other guys with them. Eric was doing his first ultra which was shocking to hear he would choose this monster as his first. Jeff is a very accomplished ultra runner having done all four Oil Creek races which includes the year they offered a 50 miler. That is rare company and pretty cool. These guys also happened to be doing basically the same pace as me so I latched onto them like a sucker fish. Hopefully I wasn't overly annoying. Sometimes you meet folks during a race and you just seem to click. I felt really good hanging with these guys.<br />
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After the steel bridge we ran along the beautiful Loyalsock Creek on some really soft and beautiful track. I was so hot I actually walked down the embankment to the creek to dunk my head in that cold water. I really didn't want to leave this creek, but I had a long way to go. I ran and caught up with the group at 154, shuffled along the road for a bit, and then darted back into the woods for more climbing. Up and down we went. Paul and I talked about his Oil Creek race last year and the issues he had during the race. I just love discussing other races with runners. I could talk about running all day long. It makes the miles go by. Then sure enough we came up to the Cold Run aid station for much needed break.<br />
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<em>Miles 16.34-19.73 World's End Aid Station</em><br />
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More watermelon, honedew, and cantaloupe. It tasted amazing. Other races need to take notice of this. On hot days fresh cut melon is what's for breakfast, lunch and dinner! It's the only food I craved and wanted. Also the Tang was fantastic! It really quenched the thirst more so then my Tailwind. We thanked everyone and crossed the road and dove back into the abyss. This section was known as The Devil's Garden, which had really cool rock outcroppings. We then came upon a ominous eight foot high chicken wire like fence which the trail followed right alongside of it. I have to confess it was somewhat creepy. What was this fence keeping in or out for that matter? The vegetation inside the fence was really thick. We didn't hang around and moved quickly along the fence and darted back into the forest. Eric seemed to take off at this point and Paul went after him. I hung back with Gil and Jeff. We made our way back down into the park area near the finish, along the creek side cliff walk section and into the aid station at the park. We checked in and we probably spent close to five minutes here refueling and cooling off. The next aid station was Canyon Vista a mere three miles away but we had some heavy climbs to get there. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Gil descending to the center of the earth!</em></td></tr>
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<br /> </em><em>Miles 19.73- </em><em>29.24 Coal Mine Aid Station</em><br />
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We checked in with the volunteers with our bib numbers and one volunteer was telling us the next section was one of the prettiest we will encounter. We will see multiple waterfalls and vistas. We thanked them and Jeff, Gil and I started the climb up from the valley. It was only about a 350 ft climb but it was steep and it was so damn humid and hard to breath so the difficulty of the climb becomes super magnified. Once at the top it was a nice little short section then a downhill back down to 154 which was throwing me off a bit. I turned around and asked Gil if this was the right way. I had made so many wrong turns my trail confidence was faltering on if I was going the right direction or not. We were now in the waterfall portion. It was breathtaking and that water looked so inviting it was cruel. I could have jumped in but I didn't want to give anymore time away as my pace was painfully slow and getting worse. So I just rinsed off my neck, head and face. I was really gassed here and Gil being the pro he was said we only have about a mile to the Canyon Vista aid station. He had a nice little laminated chart with aid locations and elevation profile. He wisely told me to get ice in my hat and something to eat when we get there. I was definitely starting to massively overheat just like at the DG50. It's that overheating feeling where you start to feel slightly dizzy, weak, and nauseas. The last thing on earth you want to do is start a big climb feeling like that. But that's what was on the menu and the nice prolonged grinding climb up to Canyon Vista commenced. Honestly I followed Gil and just simply put one foot in front of the other. Because that's really the only choice. The predator of doubt was on the attack and the DNF was lingering. Doubt is the ultrarunner's adversary. It is always there lingering in the darkness and if you let it consume you and come out into the light you will suffer more then necessary and most likely drop. As the ultra saying goes "its you against you." The mental game was on for me. I just needed to watch Gil's footsteps and follow. I knew in time this will pass and sure enough it did. <br />
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The aid and volunteers here were nothing short of fantastic as usual. I immediately recognized Bob and Janine whom I met in Philly at the Dirty German. Boy was I happy as hell to see them. They grabbed my bottles and got me ice in my hat. They were so helpful! My spirits were immediately lifted and right there my race switched back to a more hopeful tone. The emotional roller coaster was rockin. At the bottom of this climb at the waterfalls I was at a lowpoint and at the top of this mountain I was feeling energized. We grabbed some more melon thanked Bob and Janine and off we went. The ice in my hat was already cooling me off and working nicely. This next few miles was about as easy running as you could ask for. We did a powerwalk/run combo here as we chatted away. I was really enjoying my time with Gil. He could have left me at the aid station easily. I wouldn't have blamed him at all but he didn't'. He helped me almost in a pacer like way. It actually turned out he has paced many friends in 100 milers over the years from Hurt in Hawaii to Wasatch in Utah to Oil Creek right here in PA. So maybe in a strange way his pacer instincts kicked in when he saw me struggling. Either way I felt gratitude towards my new friend. I asked him so many questions as we went along on his training and how he approaches his 100 milers. Turns out this race was really his last long run prior to Big Horn out in Wyoming two weeks later. So of course like a child this perked up my interest on his races. I asked what was his favorite hundred. His response was Western States. How awesome is that! The crown jewel of ultra's. He said his name was pulled the first time he entered. Amazing! So we talked WS, we talked pacing Tom Green at Wasatch, we talked Eastern States, we talked Oil Creek which will be my first this October. He talked nighttime running troubles and the 2 am sleepiness hurdle he says is tough to get over. All fantastic insight into the mind of a fellow distance runner. The miles just melted away and before we knew it we were running on the stone road heading towards the last aid station.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still smiling! Photo by Tania Lezak</td></tr>
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Tania the course photographer was smiling and snapping a few pictures of us. She was so upbeat and that is always uplifting. It was here Gil and I mistook the beer in the cups as tea. Classic! I quickly downed three of those cups of beer and it tasted so good. Four miles from the finish and we're standing there slamming beer. That's trail running and more specifically that's ultra running for the mid and back of the packers like us. The cutoff is the enemy and the finish is the prize. Don't get me wrong I can get super competitive in the moment but only when the condition warrants. For me in this inaugural race in the heat it was about surviving and enjoying the day in this amazing park and not getting carted away in a ambulance. <br />
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Just before we left the aid station a women who we were leap frogging for hours ran up and grabbed some of the beer as well. It turns out this is a big race for her as she was returning from major ACL surgery on both legs. What an inspiration! She said exercise actually makes it feel better and when she doesn't exercise it will hurt more. I was in total awe. She had a big smile and seemed so happy to be out in the forest and she was running great. Just another fantastic storyline that you hear out on the trail. Stories of survival and perseverance. It's about not giving up and challenging yourself. It's in these moments you get reminded time and time again that life is so fleeting and you need to make the best of our very short time here. <br />
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<em>Mile 29.24 - Finish</em><br />
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With our new found energy from beer and epic comebacks we made our way back into the now very windy and dark forest. I actually made a comment to Gil that the woods here are really dark. It's just so much thicker then were I live. Also there was an ominous dark cloud above which helped a little. The forest creaked as the trees swayed back and forth. It was the sound of an old wooden pirate ship. It was somewhat eerie. Only four miles to go. It was here as we climbed a few smaller inclines that I actually felt like we were going to finish. Not that I had doubt but I tend not to let that creep in until I am really close. I don't like to ever assume something is a done deal and let my guard down. I didn't need to be complacent and trip on a rock and snap my ankle a few miles from the finish and wreck my season. As my mind raced I heard a large crack off to the right of the trail. I kept thinking it was a bear. Maybe it was or wasn't I don't know. I kept thinking about how the 100K folks were doing in this heat and that it was going to get dark in a few hours. Random thoughts would come and go. My feet felt like pickled prunes sloshing around in my socks in a pool of sweat and dirt. I hadn't checked on them all race and I'm sure it would be ugly when I eventually take off my shoes and socks.<br />
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Gil and I made our way along a very pedestrian portion of the trail that appeared to be an old service type road or logging road. Talk about easy pickins here. However looking off to the left was a tremendous drop off down into the hollow which is where we needed to eventually arrive at. So at some point a massive downhill was coming. We finally came up on it and it was precarious. It was a cantered trail running along the mountain with an impressive drop off. It would hurt really bad if you slipped off and slid down that to the bottom. On tired legs it made concentrating really important. This was a cruel downhill to put in this spot. My quads were already really tired now I'm extending them for braking all the way down. It made reaching the bottom so much more sweet. We ran past where the mile 19 aid station was and I looked at Gil and said "we gotta run across the finish." Gil said "we're doing it together right?" I said "hell yea we're finishing it together!!"<br />
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We crossed the finish together at 10 hours and 12 minutes. My longest 50K by far. My 50K PR is 4 hours less then that! But it didn't matter. Not today. Today was a day where I learned and listened and shared beautiful trail miles with some amazing people. Collecting memories..yea that's what it is all about.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Finish line joy. Photo courtesy of Alfonso Ong</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>From left to right, Paul, Gil, myself, Ryan and Jes. Photo courtsey of Alfonso Ong. </i></td></tr>
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<em><br /></em>Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-7125582687921467212015-05-22T16:09:00.000-07:002015-05-22T16:09:07.004-07:00Finding My Way at The Dirty German "I want to go home..." I can't believe I said this out loud to Kourtney somewhere between miles 41-47. Somehow I was reduced to an eight year old child. It was a very odd moment of mental weakness for me and not exactly what you want to hear or think for that matter when your in the middle of your first 50 miler. I am still shocked I said that and at the time I meant it. Home is comfortable, calm, with air conditioning. Home has clean clothes. Home has a shower and home has my family and my dog. That is were I wanted to be. However I first had to fight the hardest battle and race I have ever been in and the heat and brutal humidity and many miles were standing in my way. The struggle between brain and body was real and I felt caught in the purgatory between the two.<br />
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This is from Web MD: <br />
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<em>Heat exhaustion signs and symptoms include:</em><br />
<ul>
<li><em>Faintness or dizziness</em></li>
<li><em>Nausea or vomiting</em></li>
<li><em>Heavy sweating often accompanied by cold, clammy skin</em></li>
<li><em>Weak, rapid pulse</em></li>
<li><em>Pale or flushed face</em></li>
<li><em>Muscle cramps</em></li>
<li><em>Headache</em></li>
<li><em>Weakness or fatigue</em></li>
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I had every one of the these symptoms on the third lap at The Dirty German Endurance Fest 50 Miler, plus swelling fingers, occasional cold shivers and feelings of being disoriented. This was not how my first 50 was supposed to go down. I felt lost, hopeless, and alone out on the course even though I ran the entire thing with my running buddy Kourtney and ran with many friends. These were foreign feelings to me during a run. I have run countless marathons and tough 50K's but this....this was a superior beast I had never come across. It sounds like I'm sensationalizing the description but I can tell you flat out I am not. The only reasoning I can come up with was the humidity and an untrained body and minds reaction to it. I am not a heat runner and when you couple that with heavy humidity and no breeze it's just makes the oncoming suffering that you know is coming that much harder to cope with.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>6:00 am and the humidity has hangin around already.</i></td></tr>
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Ten hours earlier before we set off the mood was so upbeat and positive. I was able to chat with so many friends before the race. We hung out with Amy and Emir Dedic, Ryan E. from Nazareth, the very talented Michael Daigeaun and I got to finally meet another instagram friend and local Michael G. who was also doing his first 50 miler. I really enjoy the vibe just before the race starts. There is always this nervous but exciting static in the air. The race was a looped course and the 50 milers had the privilege of doing three loops, the 50k folks did two, and 25k kids did one.<br />
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<i>The first loop start to mile 16.5</i><br />
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I was able to actually meet up with another internet friend whom I saw on the trail, Bob Bodkin. Kourtney and I ran with him for a few miles early on as we were settling in. Bob is from Coopersburg right near me and we share the same chiropractor and many running friends. Runners are such an easy bunch to talk with and meet especially during a race. I think it's because we all are heading for the same eventual train wreck of suffering. There is sort of a comfort in knowing you will not be alone in the pain department. But these first few miles flew by fast. Bob eventually pulled away at an early aid station and the 50 milers really thinned out. Even with the thinning of the crowd we were still going out way to fast for the conditions. The course is very very runnable which is actually harder then a hilly course because you can lulled into running fast and risk burning out your energy prior to the third loop. If it was a nice crisp fall day our pace would be fine but not today. Today was different and required an immediate recalibration of expectations and pace. Something I ignored and paid dearly for during the later miles. But it's a lesson that one only really needs to learn once.<br />
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We were cruising along nicely by ourselves and met another runner, Mandy from Lancaster. We ran with Mandy on the second half of the first loop. She was so nice and kind and we both really enjoyed sharing the trail with her. We talked marathons and common races we all have done. We even commented on how easy the trail was and how hard it was to run really slow. We then caught back up with Bob and he actually knew Mandy from pacing the Garden Spot Village Marathon in Lancaster. The four of us chit chatted and laughed and spent a few miles running the next winding sections. It was the perfect little train just cruising and talking running. Eventually we parted ways but it's those small moments in a race that are really fun and memorable. That is one of the many ways of how friendships are made in running.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our new friend Mandy heading off into the heat.</i></td></tr>
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We pulled into the last aid station for the loop which we actually see twice on the figure eight loop. I also noticed another runner I know Jeff Merritt. I don't actually know him but we both are members of the Trail WhippAss, a small trail running club based in NY. He was working the aid station along with a few other experienced ultra runners. The one volunteer Michael was wearing a Western States Endurance Run shirt. He had run WS a few years back. It was great to have several runners with 100 mile experience set up with that aid station. It would become increasingly clear just how important that aid station would become for me as the race unfolded. The start was only 4.5 miles away and about a mile from the start area my old friend Tim came running past us. I had talked him into signing up for the 25k and he looked like he was loving it. I was really glad we got to see him. His day was basically done and ours was really just starting. We crossed with a first lap at 3 hours 12 minutes. I quickly changed my shirt and wiped down what sweat I could and off we went for the second lap.<br />
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<i>2nd loop miles 16.5 to 33</i><br />
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We ran this lap for the most part alone. The runners really thinned out here because the 25k runners were done and now it was just the 50k and 50 milers. We continued to run and started to mix in more walking due to the suffocating air and heat and humidity. Being an urban park in Philadelphia there really was no breeze to be had. That made the woods a stagnant heat box. It was starting to get really nasty. My heart rate continued to stay at an unsustainable rate. I elevated it so much on the first loop that now trying to get it to come down with the rising heat was futile. Luckily I was fueling well by drinking tons of Tailwind and eating salted potatoes at every aid station. So my fuel was on point. My body however was in a frantic race to cool itself by pumping blood to the skins surface to release the heat which of course sacrifices the blood pumping to your legs for running and your stomach for digestion. My body was working overtime to do many things and it just could not keep up. Something was going to break. It was on this loop that I first started to get a little dizzy on a very minor hill climb. It was that woozy feeling. It was at this moment that my race changed. Feeling tired and sore and hot is one thing, that's part of running and you learn to deal with that and block that out. Becoming light headed, dizzy, and wanting to vomit is not a normal running dilemma that I'm used to experiencing. This caught me seriously off guard and we were only on the second loop. <br />
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We pulled into the the final aid station. It was hear I saw the chair off to the side and I asked Michael the guy wearing the Western States 100 shirt if I can sit in it. He of course said yes. So I sat down. I was a little dizzy and sweating heavily and I needed to collect myself. Now I have read so many times to "avoid the chair" at all costs during ultras. But to be honest that chair and the few minutes I sat there collecting myself really helped me. I poured water on my face, chatted with Michael and Jeff and the one women there. All three were so nice and helpful. We would see them two more times for the third loop. I got up from that chair feeling ok and we made the last few miles back to the pavilion for the third loop. However on this four plus mile stretch my feet really started to give me problems. My socks were soaked with sweat as were my Hoka Stinson ATR shoes and my feet felt like there were submerged in water the sweat was so bad. I could feel several blisters forming and debated to myself on whether or not to fix my feet at the pavilion and change socks or just suck it up. I think I made the correct call looking back. I decided to change my socks and load up my feet with petroleum jelly especially on the blister areas. I had a few band aids that I used to try and bye a few miles out of. This probably took close to five minutes just to do this but it was time worth spent. When I took off my socks my feet were pickled and pale like they were sitting in a swimming pool for hours on end. I will always look back on this as a valuable lesson to always do in the future. Take care of the feet! <br />
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<em>3rd loop miles 33-50</em><br />
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We hit the aid station right past the start area and I immediately asked for ice and they had it! Thank god I thought. I filled my handheld with it and water and off we walked up over the bridge for the last time and back down onto the trail. I kinda felt a little refreshed and renewed knowing that this was it and we were not going to see this part of the trail again. Each step was getting us closer to being done and that's how we approached it. One step at a time. We actually jogged off and on here on this section heading to the experienced aid station. But the walking was creeping back and so was the miserable feeling of just how far we had to go. We jogged into that aid station and I immediately noticed Ryan (my friend from Nazareth) standing there at the aid station looking somewhat dazed and lethargic. He had already done the 8.5 mile loop to get back here and only had another 4.5 mile to go to finish. He looked at me and said "Bryan, I want to quit." I said no you are not you start walking as did the volunteers and everyone else. He was doing so well and was on pace to finish with a great time. I watched him slowly walk off up to the trailhead feeling very jealous as he was so close. Then the realization hit me that we still had 13 miles to go. That was a sinking feeling for sure. I sat back down in that chair and collected myself again. I had a headache, felt sick, and somewhat disoriented. I wanted to be done. We asked and they said it should be 8.5 miles to get back to here. It's funny that distance is nothing to my normal mindset, but at that point it sounded almost impossible and incredibly far. So up I stood and off we walked the opposite way of Ryan, under the bridge, and up to that small climb.<br />
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We were totally alone here. Mile after mile after mile of speed walking and loneliness. It was here in these first miles following the aid station that my calves started to violently lock up and seize up making running impossible. I wanted to run, I could have at least slow jogged but every time I would try the pain was sharp and shooting in both calves. I have never ever experienced this. I was confused by it. Was it an injury? What the hell is wrong? I could walk somewhat strongly but not run. So walking it was. You do what you must do to finish. That is what I said over and over. If you can't run then you walk and vice versa. Since the course is not very hilly we were actually hitting 14 minute miles by walking. That is slow but it kept us under the looming cutoff that I was starting to obsess about. <br />
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It seemed to take forever to get to he halfway point of the third lap. As we entered onto the bike path and over the little foot bridge to the aid station at the halfway lap point it was so great to finally get to that aid station. Relief is more like it. There were so many locals out in the park on bikes with their families walking and hanging out. The park seemed really busy. There were a lot of people around and at this point I hated everyone of them. That is a harsh thing to say I know but I was really in a bad place at this point and I'm not going to sugar coat how I was feeling. I was done, finished, over it. Running was impossible and walking sucked beyond belief. I felt like I was failing and seeing everyone staring at us didn't help my fragile psyche. The aid station volunteers here were great also. They poured water over my head and then the one guy said, "you only have 9 miles left to go and three hours to get it done!" Really? Seriously? My heart sank at the thought of that. I tried to calculate the math and came up with something like 10 minute miles in my head, which is way off obviously but at that moment I was like a 2 year old.<br />
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We thanked them and off we went walking. And then the strangest thing happened. Coming towards us on the bike path were several visibly intoxicated homeless folks. No teeth, filthy, dreadlocks, staggering addicts just shouting out to anyone for cigarettes. They asked us in a very aggressive tone several times for cigarettes. One of the women with them said "you can't ask them they are running a marathon or something!" Seriously with this? We ignored them of course and actually this encounter provoked a bit of running out of me. I actually got an adrenaline burst and started running. It was short lived but I told Kourtney even with heat stroke and cramping I can still outrun those mother f'ers. We actually got a brief chuckle out of it. Only in Philadelphia. But this bike path section went on and on and on and I know it was only two miles or something but I swore it was five or six. Of course my sense of anything was way off. Back into the woods we went and I had to sit down again on a log. I was getting dizzy again. But then I finally had to urinate! For the first time during the race! Small victories. I was nervous I didn't want it to be coke colored because if it is you are in deep shit. But thankfully it was somewhat normal colored. I couldn't believe it. I was obsessing over this all race as well. Onward we went. <br />
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The last aid station. A utopia. A bastion of safety and hope. There it was and there was Jeff, Michael and that nice women. I put both hands on the table and Michael asked me what I needed. I just looked at his WS 100 shirt. then I looked at Jeff who was asleep in the chair and he had a caterpillar slowly crawling up his leg that I just stared at that as well. It was strange to see this but it took my mind off the pain. It just slowly inched up his leg to his knee. It must have been strange for the caterpillar. It was strange to me. I really wasn't all there mentally. It was really soothing in a weird way. Michael gave me water and poured it over my head and talked to us about how much was left. They all were so attentive and kind. I remember the women said "finishing exhausted and spent is better then a DNF." I hung on that because I wanted to drop so bad. I asked to sit down and just sat there for at least five minutes. I think I woke up Jeff at that point! I had to get my heart rate down. Jeff was now awake and said we have less then 7 miles but at least 4.5! Haha that was classic. So I got my ass out of that chair and off we went.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCLutgEgXvXfTvEBAzcXMFVV-posUL-WWOZ4aFW9WabzexdOyJA8W88nhsG1XgKE_19IsYI2iS7jd6Btwa9GXPmvJCZYJmkm4kClLwhY_OmpFkPnw11fMaWsb_Msak67t-gcE0mngRVs/s1600/IMG_0869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCLutgEgXvXfTvEBAzcXMFVV-posUL-WWOZ4aFW9WabzexdOyJA8W88nhsG1XgKE_19IsYI2iS7jd6Btwa9GXPmvJCZYJmkm4kClLwhY_OmpFkPnw11fMaWsb_Msak67t-gcE0mngRVs/s400/IMG_0869.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mile 47, reduced to a walk on super easy single track. ARGHHH!</i></td></tr>
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During these last four plus miles I tried to run but quickly stopped as my calves were cooked. It wasn't really until we were about two miles from the finish that I finally felt like we were going to finish. Then we finally hit that last water crossing. Then I could here Pine Rd and the first car I saw sitting there along the road was my wife's! OH Happy Day! We started jogging, hit the blacktop, onto the grass high fived Jeff who was there and a few others and across the finish we went. 11 hours and 50 minutes after we started we officially were 50 mile finishers.<br />
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After much reflection I have come away with a few random thoughts.<br />
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1. The jump from the marathon distance to the 50K distance is really not a big one. The jump from the 50k distance to a 50 miler, is huge. A totally different animal altogether. Don't get me wrong road marathon's are very hard and bring their own sense of pain, especially if you are racing them which I do not do. The 50K distance is very challenging and at times suffering is present however the suffering is often limited and at least for me usually lasts for a very brief time because before you know it your finished.<br />
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2. The suffering in this particular 50 miler was long and pronounced. It seemed to really start somewhere around mile 36 or so for me. Fourteen miles of suffering is a really really long time. I run these races simply to finish and am in no way running competitively or looking to place in my particular age group. The heat was a killer and in a way was a good thing. I now see the value of what this race was for my training heading into Oil Creek. There were many lessons to be learned here. Foot care, chafing, heat related exhaustion, drop bags, looped courses. So many great things to mull over.<br />
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3. It was the perfect trap, very easy flat single track coupled with crippling heat and humidity. It lulled most runners into a dangerous game of glutinous excitability. Run it fast, beat the heat, finish quick. A few could do it and last, but most could not. In the end what I should have done was tamper my excitement and slow down in order to last the duration. But yet the course was just so damn runnable.<br />
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4. I can't wait to run another 50 miler. Now I know what they are and how to mentally approach the distance. For now I have a very busy summer loaded with marathons and 50k's prepping for Oil Creek 100. Yee Haw!<br />
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<br />Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-62805794111784662442015-04-29T05:21:00.004-07:002015-05-26T04:54:17.901-07:00Race Report: Ironmaster's Challenge 50K<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I knew very little about Ironmaster’s Challenge 50K when I
signed up for it back in the winter. I still knew very little about the day of
the race. All I really knew is the location, Pine Grove Furnace State Park and
Michaux State Forest in the south-central area of Pennsylvania. Basically I had a two hour drive out past Harrisburg and down to Carlisle. But like so many of
my recent races it was merely set up to be a nice slow long run in the woods to
get time on my feet and get the miles in. It’s a very small race and I don’t
think it’s very well known so much outside the general Central PA region. I
think this is partly because they don’t use ultrasignup.com and it just sort of
gets lost in the plethora of springtime marathons and ultras. The race is put
together by The Central Pennsylvania Conservancy and the Susquehanna
Appalachian Trail Club “with all proceeds from the race going to support
organizational programs and operations, including the Ironmaster’s Mansion” the
location of the finish line. So it’s a not for profit race which is always a
bonus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPArWnJzMJUQoGnzummZtNPB30U26uu6QDhX4ZZthM-e5YdQZPDMlf_T8YIf24ZthQ61mvCVgCe1tKIxlh1z_DTXPGfqn-H3HIEJSqoHdY9IXnBqhSnSVuKZA3AbGW21EWnW7efEE4WpE/s1600/Start.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPArWnJzMJUQoGnzummZtNPB30U26uu6QDhX4ZZthM-e5YdQZPDMlf_T8YIf24ZthQ61mvCVgCe1tKIxlh1z_DTXPGfqn-H3HIEJSqoHdY9IXnBqhSnSVuKZA3AbGW21EWnW7efEE4WpE/s1600/Start.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Pavillion area at start.</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKarAx9hsQiafXpMf188nWMMDEim1AQ_Mhk-49Bju6a-dwSAE1Jp2jb62mO4P-69ZjX8QRhempAkKMA5bYADROMDfkkT1NLog3bE3F1kihc4Pebijkp0dSpe7Mr_7W9LQ-aEBMimvUGo/s1600/Start+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKarAx9hsQiafXpMf188nWMMDEim1AQ_Mhk-49Bju6a-dwSAE1Jp2jb62mO4P-69ZjX8QRhempAkKMA5bYADROMDfkkT1NLog3bE3F1kihc4Pebijkp0dSpe7Mr_7W9LQ-aEBMimvUGo/s1600/Start+2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Almost ready.</em></td></tr>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mile 0-3.7 aid station<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was sunny with blue skies and a forecasted highs around
the low 60’s. Perfect for trail running. Bib pickup was a breeze and they even
had a nice little spread of bagels, cream cheese, peanut butter, muffins and
coffee. It’s always a great idea to give trail runners food before a race
starts. When you finish the race you get your tech shirt and pint glass but
only if you finish. I kind of liked that, you had to earn your swag. There was
only 128 finishers of the 50K but it felt like maybe only half that at the
starting line when we took off up Old Shippenburg Rd for three tenths of a mile
then hung a left on Old Orchard Road to the start of the first major climb of
the day up towards Little Rocky Ridge. This climb was your typical central PA
wobbly rock climb up a 20% grade. Then it was down a steep trail quickly
followed by more climbing but this time it was boulder hopping around steep
drop offs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vista’s here already were
beautiful and vast. I was running this with Kourtney and let’s just say she was
not thrilled about this part. It didn’t bother me so much as long as it didn’t
continue for miles on end. What did bother me were the runners who thought it
was a smart decision to pass people on the boulder scramble. That was not cool
and totally bad trail etiquette. The course is 31.7 miles long and passing at
the most dangerous part of the course 1.5 miles in is ridiculous. I told
Kourtney to step aside and let three runners jump past us and loudly told her
in an irritated tone that we will pass them much later. But you shake it off
and keep moving forward at your own pace. The boulder scramble was over and
down the ridge we went on some nice bit of trail. We then started another rocky
steep climb that was runnable but very steep so we mostly hiked this section.
Once at the top it was more beautiful and large boulder features right off the
trail mixed within a dense grove of trees. This was part of the Tumbling Gun
Game Preserve. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pulled into the first
small aid station at the top of a stone road. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first 3.5 miles took us exactly 60 minutes
to complete. It was shaping up to be a really long day in the woods.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGb0kt5Kpl5bXQjnqF763wqJqKLInnBV_BLZk6UCeDTyd7ePa5WrwsYHqkUFGSvqlvrg3w35EXv50OXau0Ye-4bVszkGvVrUv5rmlBceJK8qI1jZ8MHTD0Ee514CUox3mXGSo0pC-K2Kc/s1600/Boulder+scramble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGb0kt5Kpl5bXQjnqF763wqJqKLInnBV_BLZk6UCeDTyd7ePa5WrwsYHqkUFGSvqlvrg3w35EXv50OXau0Ye-4bVszkGvVrUv5rmlBceJK8qI1jZ8MHTD0Ee514CUox3mXGSo0pC-K2Kc/s1600/Boulder+scramble.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Tried to capture boulder section but failed!</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlQf7vdzKuQi1juQxNWVsOH_X23ZMrhoGwtMYUmf02bZzRLtF5b-jtwbuPdtWxpHrs4vvePJrDGhyphenhyphenHZn4N1n-XG-4hH0cx_MrUL3JLPXrvVFVU6M-M5rc1OXRnfWJ3p3LHVqix-nmfks/s1600/Climbing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlQf7vdzKuQi1juQxNWVsOH_X23ZMrhoGwtMYUmf02bZzRLtF5b-jtwbuPdtWxpHrs4vvePJrDGhyphenhyphenHZn4N1n-XG-4hH0cx_MrUL3JLPXrvVFVU6M-M5rc1OXRnfWJ3p3LHVqix-nmfks/s1600/Climbing.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Climbing, she gave me the finger right after this photo.</em></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Right after the aid station were given a nice and long stone
road to bomb down. It was actually very nice because it gave the runners a
chance to open up their stride and stretch out on some easy given miles. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was here we met a few friendly runners
Katie, Brian and Paul. It turns out Katie and Paul were just running the race
to run it alongside their friend Brian. They were basically acting as pacers
for their friend. All three of them were so friendly and they were tossing
pretzels at each other while we ran. They quickly lightened the mood and we had
great conversation with them for a few miles. At the bottom of the stone road
we hung a right and back into the rolling singletrack mixed with wild rhododendron
groves and another large 800 ft climb. At the top of this climb was yet another
great vista to gaze out on. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Rugged and Beautiful!</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJxSyHsmcIODV9gZY9rTiaOkemYxVYHPO0MQq1FGA06dSn_6uiSGOHNQmkL4M76DA4Lhj0NApryYGwxtX6wwL9x4gwfGXC5-tX8L-lcbnfHfDD-e1TuGVh5QLvrn0JjcEUgyVXxWhT24/s1600/Vista+w+buck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJxSyHsmcIODV9gZY9rTiaOkemYxVYHPO0MQq1FGA06dSn_6uiSGOHNQmkL4M76DA4Lhj0NApryYGwxtX6wwL9x4gwfGXC5-tX8L-lcbnfHfDD-e1TuGVh5QLvrn0JjcEUgyVXxWhT24/s1600/Vista+w+buck.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Kourtney smiling after a hard climb.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGM3msZi7_mcdydgx1E4k5VTP2ivQILh47yiZ7-aN4aA9l1qwA-KO0ArXesY2F8Y1fSvj1CYieJiSPf4rIycx6GLmtQ0Ru8g61LiTz0ecUAt7NKXiq043gk44adhbrrH9WGnEVOAayXY/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGM3msZi7_mcdydgx1E4k5VTP2ivQILh47yiZ7-aN4aA9l1qwA-KO0ArXesY2F8Y1fSvj1CYieJiSPf4rIycx6GLmtQ0Ru8g61LiTz0ecUAt7NKXiq043gk44adhbrrH9WGnEVOAayXY/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Cairns.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<em><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></em> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This course was
taking haymaker swings at us and landing a few of those punches. So far it was
climbs and rocks and more climbs with very small runnable sections to get you
excited and then snatch your excitement from you. It was awesome I have to
admit. I’m not sure if Kourtney was digging it yet as she was awfully quiet. The
following 2.5 miles or so of decent down in Dead Women’s Hollow Rd was lush but
nasty. It was very rocky and wet as we picked our way down along a fast flowing
creek with moss lined rocks and ferns. Back and forth we crisscrossed that
stream. All you could hear was the water. It was cool and moist but slow going.
The trail markings were difficult to pick up here as many runners kept back
tracking and stopping along the way to check. But we made it through and out
onto the strangely named Dead Women’s Hollow Rd. This area must be super creepy
at night as I am sure there is a story that goes with the name of the road. Up
the road a bit then into a very steep but small climb onto the top of a open
ridge line for a really awesome section of running. This short section was
probably one of my favorite parts of the course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was only about 1.5 miles long but you were
exposed on an open ridge line with mountains on either side. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYBSusEJeGp5UBhQfNnCY9QeuEIW_rDNqtXo6GDbrA58XWvbABosgGTFj5PLlUfThCXZXP5AFxRrSDu0hOJpmVxYAWH-sjkE75pKUFP2sdFw17UTlsahLKlJyS6c5ISiakdlnc7qexnQ/s1600/Ridge+Line+Running.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYBSusEJeGp5UBhQfNnCY9QeuEIW_rDNqtXo6GDbrA58XWvbABosgGTFj5PLlUfThCXZXP5AFxRrSDu0hOJpmVxYAWH-sjkE75pKUFP2sdFw17UTlsahLKlJyS6c5ISiakdlnc7qexnQ/s1600/Ridge+Line+Running.jpg" width="423" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>My favorite stretch, the open ridge run.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles </span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">11.2-19.4 pavilion
checkpoint<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From the open ridge line we ran back down, across Pine Grove
Road and darted back into the woods and ran along a rooty but very soft creek
side trail. This was rolling and wet for miles but also very runnable so we
just simply chugged along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
really remember much from this stretch other then rolling my ankle on a rock.
That started a chain reaction and I wound up rolling my ankle another four
times. Once you roll it, you are now weak on that foot and it always seems to
open up the flood gates. But I’m fairly limber and I was able to still run at
the same pace. You just have to embrace that suckage, that’s part of trail
running. I knew it wasn’t rolled badly enough to stop and actually felt better
as I kept going. Those small little rocks the poke up out from under the leaves
kept catching my left foot on an angle and it just kept rolling. This section
also seemed to disorient me for a while. It was weavy back and forth up and
down and it was stuffy in the forest. The sun was shining bright casting half
shadows in the forest and it hard for me to get my bearings. This was probably
the lowest point for me in this race. It felt like I was getting dizzy almost
like on a merry go round. I loath that feeling of being disoriented <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and just wanted to get out of this section and
was so thankful to pop out at a clearing to re-orientate my brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We finally made it to the pavilion aid station
and checkpoint where they had lots of food and fluids and many other runners resting
for the next long push. It was here we ran back into Katie, Brian and Paul.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mile 19.4-31.7 finish
at mansion<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Off we went with our new friends Katie and crew and a few
others. The run to the next big climb was on a cinder rail trail for about a
half a mile and what lay ahead was the back portion of the Pole Steeple climb
on a different trail then what most use. This was interesting because we wound
up climbing only about 500 ft but it was slow going then we popped out at the
base of Pole Steeple and were not required to climb to the very top. It was
here we ran into a lot of tourists and day trip hikers making the conventional
climb up. As soon as we got to the top it was bombs away back down to the very
bottom using the highly used trail. Many of these folks we passed clapped their
hands and wished us well as we skipped down. This part was really fun. It
seemed to go on for awhile and the rocks were like steps and you could just
skip down them and really have a blast. One hiker clapped as we ran by and said
she really admired that we were doing this race. That always helps the pain go
away when others can really appreciate how hard this kind of thing really is. We
were at mile 20 and 5.5 hours into this race and we were all bombing down a
very steep trail laughing, chatting up a storm amongst us, and carrying on. I
was leading the way down and periodically would stop just briefly to turn
around and just watch the other three coming down the mountain smiling. That is
what trail running is, it was captured in that moment of joy. All four of us
were like four kids playing in a playground. At the bottom we reached Pine
Grove Road again and I stopped to wait for Kourtney and our new friends ran off
ahead. We ran along this road for a bit and up to the Laurel Lake aid station.
The lake was beautiful and serene and the one volunteer said they were watching
a bald eagle for the past hour until it flew off. Then is was across the road
and back into the forest. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From here we ran along an old dirt road called Mountain
Creek Rd. I’m not sure but it looked like an old railroad bed or logging or
quarry road. It was flat and we cruised along trying to make a little time up
the best we could. We actually passed a younger guy on this stretch as he was
walking. This road was about a two mile stretch, then it was off back into the
woods for yet another hardnosed 800 ft climb. This climb seemed especially
tough but there’s nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other and just
do it. At the top it leveled off and sloped back down for about three miles to
a creek called Sage Run. Here we were running along the soggy and wet hollow
for a bit and met another runner Scott from Bristol. He was a physics teacher I
believe and had written several books on Pennsylvania waterfalls in the Worlds
End region as well as the area we were in. You always meet the nicest folks
while trail racing, it never fails. He was telling us about running Laurel
Highlands 70.5 a few years back and talking to Kourtney about teaching since
they both are teachers. Down along this creek he pointed out bear droppings
along the trail. That freaked us both out but he mentioned he has come across
many black bear out in the wild and they are babies and run away when they see
you. I was still unnerved about it but we carried on zig zagging across the
creek. The course markings in this area were difficult to find and we stopped
several times trying to figure out the route. Scott had run this race last year
and he even had difficulty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We then came
to another climb. This was a small one maybe 300 ft or so but after over seven
hours on the trail the climbs always get longer and steeper. Scott continued to
walk a bit and Kourtney and I pulled away and ran the long two plus miles down
hill back towards the mansion and the finish. That long downhill to the finish
seemed like it took a month. As we ran across the finish the guy collected our
tabs from our bibs and let Kourtney know that she was 1<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup> place in
her age division. What a nice surprise for her. We crossed the finish line
together and our times were 8 hours 8 minutes good for 66<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> and 67<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
place out of 128 runners. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Katie and crew
were standing there clapping for us and cheering us on. They were awesome. We got
our beer and food and sat down to chill and cheer on the other finishers as
they came in. That is when we saw the few people who passed us on the boulder
scramble way back at mile 2 come running in across the finish. We clapped for
them of course but I smiled and turned to Kourtney and whispered “told ya we
pass em.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiRi5T1QyQIiuOCuWM8ppj1dH2eDQ0Vg_7o_vOfI1_F-bwvP5TJRtfalycZwE1OEVsEdbBugmDTCRWMac9YYJiHNcesU9OtoP3PAku1qhBFHWdxIvVgxKDqoFwH0qgmBPb_MS639CL1jE/s1600/Finish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiRi5T1QyQIiuOCuWM8ppj1dH2eDQ0Vg_7o_vOfI1_F-bwvP5TJRtfalycZwE1OEVsEdbBugmDTCRWMac9YYJiHNcesU9OtoP3PAku1qhBFHWdxIvVgxKDqoFwH0qgmBPb_MS639CL1jE/s1600/Finish.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Always better with beer!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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If you live within driving distance of this race it's a must do. It supports a good cause and the finish line beer, good folks and volunteers and picnic were well worth it. </div>
Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-12046731502662211612015-04-22T04:37:00.002-07:002015-04-28T11:11:27.996-07:00Race Report: Riding The Tiger at Breakneck<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So you fancy yourself a trail runner huh? You like to climb,
feel the burn in your legs, then bomb the descents right? You think your pretty
badass I take it? Well then, why don’t you go run the inaugural Breakneck Trail
Marathon and 25K up in the Hudson Highlands? You’ll be fine it’s ONLY a
marathon. (insert facepalm) This was the voice inside my head rattling around.
I kept thinking of that classic Bruce Willis quote in the original Die Hard
movie, “come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Breakneck Point Trail Marathon and 25K is put on by Ian
Golden owner of Red Newt Racing based in Ithaca, NY. They put on such great
trail events as Cayuga 50 and of course Virgil Crest just to name a few. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The website states that Breakneck will have “a
cumulative elevation gain on par with SkyRun marathons, and a few of the
steepest ascents and descents of any trail race in the country”. That description
is clearly laying down the challenge that this race is not for the faint of
heart and not for beginner trail runners. It’s basically a mountain race not
even a trail race. To put it in perspective, the marathon had a final gain of
10,900 VF and the 25K had a mere 5,700 and change as shown on my 310XT. So race
day was here and it was time to “run steep and get high!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I signed up when it first opened up on ultra signup after hearing
about it from Dylan over on the TrailWhippass FB page. I figured it would be a
grueling but fun training run with a chance to get some serious vert on my legs
heading into Dirty German 50. I have never been to the area let alone run here
but the pictures from the top of Breakneck Point were amazing. I knew it would
be the most difficult race for me to date due to the elevation changes but
little did I realize just what I had signed up for. Staring at the elevation
chart it was obvious the climbs were going to be brutal. In my head I was
fixated on getting through the climbs and then being able to run whatever flats
there were and even running the descents. That was my plan. Yea right good luck
with that plan, insert facepalm here you stupid.. stupid man. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I arrived at the Settlement Camp after a long 135 minute
drive and jumped in line for the porty potty. It was here I met Ron Kappus from
New Jersey. We both have many mutual friends and got to talking. We run the
same trails at Trexler Preserve and we talked about him running the Tammany 10
over the winter. He’s also running MMT100 so in hindsight this was perfect
training for a rocky course such as MMT. But that’s one of the best parts of
these small grass roots races, you always get a chance to meet familiar faces
and have great conversation. I then picked up my bib and went to my car to get
my gear ready. It was here I realized the girl gave me bib #1. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSIVO2WYNTaSzQJuZ1kNtuzPNVeqRhMehA_hsoQtxE6-ZSgA59hye0EcttUkHfwPJoBlkjg-sswPs6sO0TABClhGYcirbpLv3wukem_ZGtHUGweEZzAboe6a-EMYG2L1aU5kEAq9d__M/s640/blogger-image--1272062172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSIVO2WYNTaSzQJuZ1kNtuzPNVeqRhMehA_hsoQtxE6-ZSgA59hye0EcttUkHfwPJoBlkjg-sswPs6sO0TABClhGYcirbpLv3wukem_ZGtHUGweEZzAboe6a-EMYG2L1aU5kEAq9d__M/s400/blogger-image--1272062172.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure how I pulled this number.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><a name='more'></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was a little
taken aback by that. I am in no way worthy of wearing that number, I’m a mid
pack runner on my best day but more like a back of the packer on most days. On
this course I was way in the back. I really should have walked that bib back
and requested a different number but I was trying to get everything ready and
really was not thinking totally clear. It made for a good story and some of the
volunteers at the aid stations were shocked to say the least when I rolled up.
I certainly got some flack for it. "Hey look guys here comes #1 what a badass!" It was all in good fun. While getting ready
at my car I was also parked right next to Matt Imberman another TrailWhippass
member from Brooklyn. We quickly exchanged greetings and wished each other a
great race. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a><br /></div>
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6ng8ZH5R3PqUaUZW076P9BwwbL7v-G31TCT4dvajqtmPzffCluUP5jCbnHC4NLMtqAWeLGFYRU0ZOMOWMJGI24DGxZsd9bhgmuOFiEStBW9m5dVVDfEZLPZDyS981pIqQ1cJApiTJcA/s640/blogger-image--1462029006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6ng8ZH5R3PqUaUZW076P9BwwbL7v-G31TCT4dvajqtmPzffCluUP5jCbnHC4NLMtqAWeLGFYRU0ZOMOWMJGI24DGxZsd9bhgmuOFiEStBW9m5dVVDfEZLPZDyS981pIqQ1cJApiTJcA/s640/blogger-image--1462029006.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Ian warning us of the impending pain!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles 0-2.6</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I got in line at the start and Ian then welcomed
everyone and gave a quick pre race greeting. We were then off up the grassy
field and into the woods to start the first 1,000 ft climb for the next two and
half miles. I loved how the climbing started immediately. No mile or so of
blacktop to warm up on. I really wasn’t running here it was more like a fast
power hike and the trail was on par with a rocky ATV type service road once we
left the initial wooded area at the base of the mountain. It was a nice long
grinding type of climb but nothing like what lye ahead. It was rocky with
various wet spots from flowing streams but very runnable if you were fit enough.
I opted to hike it to warm up with a few spurts of running when we entered a
clearing and ran along the power line easement. I felt good. I felt like this
was going to be a great day and the weather was phenomenal with clear blue
skies and temps forecasted to top out at eighty! I am not a hot weather runner,
I prefer the cold but I didn’t even think about the oncoming heat. I was just
thrilled to be exploring a new place with spectacular views and good vibes. It
was almost as if the mountain was tempting me like the mythical Sirens of Greek
mythology that would lure nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices
to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. The mistress of the mountain was
luring me in and I followed right along.</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*********</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I was ten years old I had a much older stepbrother and
our bedrooms were adjacent to one another’s. He was your classic 1980’s badass
metal head equipped with chain wallet and tech school credentials. He would
blast Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Ozzy and Dio from his room while entertaining
his many girl friends. I remember Dio’s tune Holy Diver vividly. The album
cover was really pretty cool as well to a ten year old. To this day I have a
fondness for the old metal bands from back in the day. Holy Diver came on my
playlist on the long drive home and strangely some of the lyrics seem fitting
to this course. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Shiny diamonds<br />
Like the eyes of a cat in the black and blue<br />
Something is coming for you”</span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*********</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles 2.6-7.1 <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>aid station</span></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmabu05IO6IGNndQMsCE5ECJm-QvX9T78zXX6FLMebUU7svv_uc9-xnTBMW2ksqTJ-3tKb_39sxrlxvQk-0iqG5BRAftHUborJ7n_Pit2xL199ErqoQAj-pgTiD6AVC2-jfFpzOsmo7hI/s640/blogger-image-19803185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmabu05IO6IGNndQMsCE5ECJm-QvX9T78zXX6FLMebUU7svv_uc9-xnTBMW2ksqTJ-3tKb_39sxrlxvQk-0iqG5BRAftHUborJ7n_Pit2xL199ErqoQAj-pgTiD6AVC2-jfFpzOsmo7hI/s400/blogger-image-19803185.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Your view at the top of the first climb. Sweet!</em></td></tr>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the top of the first climb was a great view of the Hudson
River down below. I quickly snapped a picture and downed some tailwind. I took
a breather for a minute before running on. We then had a 1,000 foot descent for
a few miles down to the highway 9D. This portion of trail was run able albeit
pretty rocky and technical but I enjoyed it. It was steep and slow going.
Replaying the race in my head I’m pretty sure I ran a little to hard here
because the cumulative effect of blown quads was coming head on like a runaway
freight train. This is where having local knowledge of the course probably
would have helped me plan better. I was also exerting much more energy then I
normally do. My heartrate monitor that I always wear was showing I was hitting
zone 4 which was not what I wanted. The heat was creeping in, the heartrate was
high, I was sweating a ton, and I was slamming my quads on the first descent. </span></div>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Race for the morning<br />
You can hide in the sun 'till you see the light<br />
Oh we will pray it's all right”</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I popped out at the road right along the Hudson River and
ran up to the first aid station. The volunteers here were great. I heard a
little razing about my bib number from one of them and I was smiling and
apologizing for it. It was a great station. Volunteers really make a race and
they deserve the thanks and smiles. This is the start of the signature climb
right at the tunnel. A volunteer was coming down the path from the cliff
scramble reminding the runners to stay focused and breath. I wasn’t
understanding that until I passed him and looked up. I know I muttered “jesus
christ” under my breath when I laid eyes on that monster. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHca9csvv4rMNffq00MhkxbyWnPY9XeC7nla9oIA4E71iIWvFqI2CrvONRmh4BzYqrn8hQ01Bxxx6-27c04HVIqAfs0AEJKHWDLFD8ChEKkKiNNsdMzMbor4hMswpj-lQ8BemUubc_C8/s640/blogger-image--1567676763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHca9csvv4rMNffq00MhkxbyWnPY9XeC7nla9oIA4E71iIWvFqI2CrvONRmh4BzYqrn8hQ01Bxxx6-27c04HVIqAfs0AEJKHWDLFD8ChEKkKiNNsdMzMbor4hMswpj-lQ8BemUubc_C8/s640/blogger-image--1567676763.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The signature climb up to Breackneck Point, photo by Matt Imberman.</em></td></tr>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another 1,000 foot climb basically vertically to the top and
I hate heights. I knew my heartrate was really elevated here and I was burning
through calories like crazy on this climb. My tank was quickly emptying and the
race just barely started. This climb has false summits which was demoralizing
and would slowly strip your will from your grasp. The boulders increased in
size the higher you climbed. They started out basketball size, then washing
machine size, then you were scrambling over car size slabs eight hundred feet
above the river. You just gotta love it! It was here where the true suffering
began and it was only mile six. This mile took me forty seven minutes. After
much climbing and sweating I reached to what I thought was the top but it was
just really the halfway point to the summit. The view here was spectacular, it
was precarious but simply breathtaking. I definitely hung here for a few
moments just to soak that glorious view in. I snapped some pictures, chugged
some more tailwind, and continued on to the summit. I finally reached the top
only to look down to see the descent. No rest for the weary. The descent looked
like boulders leading all the way down to the hollow. It was here I ran into
the RD, Ian. How cool was that to see the race director just climbing
effortlessly up to the point to check on things. He gave me great words of encouragement
and some tips on the trail descending all the way down. I shock his hand and
thanked him and I said “hey how about a trailfie?” His words really gave me a
boost.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Look who I ran into on the course, the RD Ian.</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This joy would end quickly on the brutal descent that followed.</em></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jump on the tiger<br />
You can feel his heart but you know he's mean”</span></i></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After I left Ian and started the descent it soon became
clear to me that I was already on the back of a big nasty cat. I was riding the
tiger and hopefully he didn’t spin around and rip my face off. I was officially
on the hardest course imaginable and it was only getting more difficult. This
course was unlike anything I have ever run on. I like climbs, I like rocks, but
I am also used to having some miles on a course were you can make time up and
open up your stride and get in a groove. I was finding it nearly impossible to
run on this course or get into any kind of rhythm. It was technical to an
extreme level. I just wasn’t prepared for it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gone were the thoughts of running some sweet
buttery single track in between the climbs. There was to be none of that. These
were my thoughts running across the little foot bridge into the mile 8 aid
station. This tiger is one mean SOB.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles 7.1-11.5 aid
station</span></i></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gathered myself and
slammed Gatorade, refilled my bottles, and half a banana. Again the volunteers
here were so great and helpful and cheerful. It makes you forget the suffering
a bit. One of the volunteers said we got 4.6 miles to get back around the loop.
No sweat I said to her as I smiled nervously. Thankfully this stretch was a
long leisurely almost two miles back down to the highway 9D. Some of this
section was even paved going past the ruins area. Never thought I would be
happy to see blacktop, but I was. My legs felt really tired even on this
section. This is where the whisper of a DNF entered my thoughts. I have never
had one. The battle between mind and body was on and the mind was winning. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I reached the gate at 9D and turned left back onto a wooded
trail that ran along the road. This was nice I thought, there are no rocks here
its dirt! That euphoria lasted only a few minutes when I followed the flags
back to the start of, in my opinion, the hardest climb of the 25K. This was
Beacon Mountain and it went on for an eternity. It was now hot and I was in the
sun on this mountain was nasty rocks and the higher you climbed the steeper it
got. It was close to a two mile climb pushing 1,100 ft of gain. It was relentless
and when I finally got to the top the view was another gem.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The view from Beacon Mt. actually higher then Breakneck Point. Well worth the suffering.</em></td></tr>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was then a
few other runners I had caught up to on that climb pointed out that we were
actually higher then Breakneck Point. The one runner lived across the river and
new the area well so he was pointing out all kinds of interesting facts. That
was really cool and took my mind off the pain. I hung with these guys for the
next two mile descent. We hiked mostly because it was just such nasty terrain. We
ran in spurts but it was futile. I actually started to pull away from them
around mile twelve heading down to the aid station. This little stretch was
actually very runnable and I bombed it. I pulled into the aid station on empty
pretty much using way to much energy running down this last section. I was
gassed. I could feel it and I knew my day was going to end well short of my
goal. The air temperature was pushing eighty degrees and the forest was still
and suffocating. My quads really felt drained. I rarely experience that
feeling. I chalked it up to to much braking on those hard rocky descents. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Holy Diver<br />
You've been down too long in the midnight sea<br />
Oh what's becoming of me, no, no!”</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles 11.5-16.7 finish
area</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Off I went from this aid station alone. I was powerhiking
and already figured I would stop at the finish line for the 25K and not
continue. I would be content with a DNF, my first. I was only at mile eleven or
so and I was at 4 hours and slowing. I was not ready mentally or physically to
be in the woods for twelve plus hours. My initial worst case scenario was to do
the marathon in 9 hours. I was nowhere near that especially with the hardest
climb apparently on the back part of the course. The thought that I hadn’t even
seen the most difficult climb was sobering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My goal at this point was to finish strong as best as I could and not
get injured. I was thinking maybe the road marathon I had PR’d the week prior
in Lancaster was weighing heavily on my legs. Cumulative fatigue was building
up but that’s part of the training and listening to your body was paramount at
this point rather then pushing through to the point of injury for the rest of
the season. My goal race was still seven months out and I just wasn’t going to
derail that. So DNF it would have to be as long as I can find my way out of
this buzz saw. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“The vision never dies<br />
Life's a never ending wheel”</span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To get to the finish I had to make my way from the aid
station at mile 11.5 or so and climb yet again another 800 ft over the course
of the next two plus miles. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
completely alone here and it was eerie. There was no sound in the forest at
this point and I saw no one. It was so quiet almost too quiet. I just tried to
concentrate on getting to the finish. It was all hiking at this point and I was
beaten. But on the positive side I was able to hike fairly strong through this
section. Then it was another gnarly descent that was blocking my way. I
gingerly hiked down this section to around mile 15 or so where the trail met up
again with the original climb up from the start. This last mile and half was
very runnable downhill down thru the finish area but I was gassed and only
managed occasional bursts of running. I passed only about four marathoners
making that long climb back out for the last loop for the marathon and they all
looked strong. I gave them encouragement the best I could knowing my day here
was done. I entered the power line easement trail and managed to sort of run that
then darted into the woods and out into the open field area and across the
finish. I ran right up to Ian who was cheering me on along with others and
thanked them. They then told me no DNF. They were very gracious to allow me to
drop down and finish with an official 25K time. They also had frozen smoothies
at the finish that were out of this world tasty. I was so beat I forgot to stop
my watch at the finish but I think my time should be around 5:47 for 16.5 miles
or so. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I made the long drive south back home I tried to analyze
what exactly just happened over the last six hours. I was too tired to think
about it and I just smiled. I’ll think about it later. For now I’m just going
to sit here and drive. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Breakneck rocked! It truly is set up to be one of the best
races in the Northeast once word spreads. I know I was mesmerized by the place.
As far as the course itself, it was a soul crusher. It was everything they
billed it to be. It was beautiful, unforgiving, and outright mean and nasty.
But isn’t that what we really want as trail runners? Who wants easy, certainly
not me? Now I know what it’s like and now I know how to train for it. For such
a short distance relatively speaking it really did a number on me mentally and
physically that I did not initially anticipate. But that’s a good thing. It
good to raise the bar for yourself, otherwise you can’t have growth. It was
great training for my spring 50 miler and fall 100 miler. I got great time on
my feet and got to experience some awesome trails with some great folks. I’m
fairly certain I will sign up again next spring and make Breakneck a must
finish race at all costs. I will raise the stakes on myself and I want to
suffer on that back half and see that climb that I missed. I now have unfinished
business in Beacon New York. </span><br />
</div>
Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-68782315389834164242015-04-15T07:31:00.000-07:002015-04-15T07:34:55.145-07:00Race Report : Garden Spot Village Marathon<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This was my first time running Garden Spot and my second
marathon in three weeks. I ran Ocean Drive two weeks prior and that marathon
kicked off a slew of running activity leading up to Dirty German 50 miler on
May 17. So G-Spot was #2 on the list and the races afterwards would start to
really progressively get harder. Funny thing happened I went ahead and signed
up for another trail marathon leading up to G-Spot, The North Face Bear
Mountain up in New York. A rocky nasty trail run at the foot of the Catskills.
So that gives me a brutal lead up to my fifty but I digress. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I really did not have a lot of expectations for Garden Spot
as far as time goes. I wanted to run well but nice and easy, sort of like a
glorified long training run. No pushing the pace or trying to go all out with
Breakneck Point Marathon the following week. I was looking at trying to run 30
to 40 seconds slower per mile then I did at Ocean Drive. That should allow me
to not really blow up towards the end. So that was my goal I suppose, to not
blow up. Easier said then done. I was running the race with my running bud
Kourtney. She and I ran the Bird-In-Hand Half Marathon back in the fall around
these parts and I struggled mightily in the heat and humidity that day. That
half was run on the hottest day of the year and was probably my worst race I
have ever done. So my memory of running in New Holland wasn’t a pleasant one. But
once again, that’s why I signed up for this one. This is as much mental
training as it is physical. Ultra distances of 50 miles and 100 miles require a
hardening of the mind as well as the body. This was ultra training.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSpOdAolIxEb6raCDkt4jggsjsfsnmxX9cUFLM3Flbq1tJefu3RIeYA7usHgEK1nGzDSKSdYHeJ6U6RDcLh8CFPeOkqp4w5_DwJ5PwaZZLrK2WZCjolbivsV2go3cPWkIrJosP76Oc1I/s1600/Bib.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSpOdAolIxEb6raCDkt4jggsjsfsnmxX9cUFLM3Flbq1tJefu3RIeYA7usHgEK1nGzDSKSdYHeJ6U6RDcLh8CFPeOkqp4w5_DwJ5PwaZZLrK2WZCjolbivsV2go3cPWkIrJosP76Oc1I/s1600/Bib.jpg" height="284" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>KYW News Radio? That's what I kept thinking. LOL</em></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The sun was shining strong with bright blue skies. The temperature was supposed to get close to 60 degrees. Standing at the start line, we saw a man wearing an Oil
Creek 100 shirt. We walked over and started talking to him. His name was Frank
and he had done the 50k at OC there and was doing the 15k at Ironmaster’s in a
few weeks. We talked for a good five minutes or so and he was so nice. Frank
embodied the running community or better yet the ultra community. I consider
meeting him a great omen. It was then the horn went off and away we went.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles 0-8<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew right away
that this might not be a great run for me. I felt lethargic and sore from my
Tuesday evening 8 mile hard tempo run. My legs did not feel springy or quick
they felt rather slow and heavy. Negative thoughts were already creeping in
during the early miles. Kourtney and I were doing around 9:40 miles for the
first two. Not fast by any means in fact it was almost perfect. I would call it
leisurely. About 70% of the runners were there doing the half marathon and we
certainly did not want to get caught up in running half marathon pace. Our pace
felt right. The first hill was between miles two and three and as we climbed we
starting passing people which felt strange. A few people were even walking at
this point. I did not break pace here and continued up the hill and my legs
were feeling better during the climb then at the start. The course then leveled
out for about a mile. Then we climbed again from mile four to mile five. Rinse
repeat. We kept pace of around 9:30 to 9:40 even on the hills again passing
people. I kept glancing at my pace because passing this many people early on is
usually not a good sign for me but to my amazement we were fine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was here I started really trying to hit the
tangents as the field was starting the thin out due to the inclines. It always
shocks my how so many other runners don’t really run the course and instead
just run the road. Road marathons distances are certified by using the shortest
distance a runner can run, and that means inside corner to inside corner. A
runner can easily add almost a half mile or more to their final distance over
the course of a marathon by not running the tangent lines. Twenty six miles on
blacktop is long enough I certainly don’t want to add to that distance by
taking the outside lane on a long sweeping curve. After cresting at the top of
this hill we then started a descent towards that one signature hill that we
would face on the way back. It was here the leaders of the half marathon were
on their way back and looking strong. I love cheering on the runners like this.
They looked so strong and fast. The first woman was looking great and had a great
big smile on her face. I love seeing other runners smile. (I mean really let’s
face it, none of us get paid to do this and in the end it’s about having fun.) Kourtney
and I then reached the top of that steep hill. I went ahead and bombed it and
just let gravity take me down. That’s always a fun thing to do. We then hit the
half marathon turnaround, grabbed some drinks, and continued straight on and
just like that is was quiet. There was no turnaround for us we had to continue
on into that howling headwind and up that lonely road to who knows where. </span></div>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles 8-16<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The wind was really whipping across those wide open fields.
It was so strong that as you would lift your foot your leg would actually be
pushed to the side by the force of the wind. It was crazy. Kourtney and I fell
into a conga line with a few other runners just to help draft off each other.
We ran the white fog line the best we could trading off with each other so each
runner took their turn in cutting the wind. These miles seemed endless really.
They just seemed to go on and on. At one point the road finally turned and we
got a reprieve from the wind and it was almost at our back. It was at this
point that I noticed we were actually on the same course as the Bird-In-Hand
Half. This was also at the point were I was really starting to feel loosened up
and actually pretty good. Maybe it was that Mocha Cliff shot I downed a mile or
so back I’m not really certain. Either way I started to pick up the pace now
that the headwind basically turned into a tailwind. I was starting to pull away
from Kourtney not realizing it and actually passed a few other runners. </span></div>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMnCur8Fj2zUGrBOV3SAI6Z_Lr-n6AvDrN7lyGIsRLWVtCYC9kFTwCPBRUti8-_kei_ChvooplgCI12-8hWIZPMgBguf-279pc1gzRR-UOTBO9_1S0kY9iP4XuzfGqIAackC-4reOips/s1600/profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMnCur8Fj2zUGrBOV3SAI6Z_Lr-n6AvDrN7lyGIsRLWVtCYC9kFTwCPBRUti8-_kei_ChvooplgCI12-8hWIZPMgBguf-279pc1gzRR-UOTBO9_1S0kY9iP4XuzfGqIAackC-4reOips/s1600/profile.jpg" height="292" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Certainly not a nice and flat run.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Miles 16-26.2<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was now running alone. Kourtney had fallen back a bit by a
few minutes. I wasn’t exactly setting any land speed records here at this point
still averaging almost 10 minute miles but I was running the long inclines that
other’s were slowly walking. I wasn’t passed by one single person from this
point forward. That almost never happens. I was actually starting to pass more
and more people which always gives the passer an energy boost. That too almost
never happens. When we got to that steep hill at mile 22 I powerhiked that hill
with a purpose and passed three others on that hill who were walking very
slowly. Being passed like that especially on a hill can be demoralizing, trust
me I know I’ve been there. But walking with a purpose can save your race if
done correctly. I could have easily blown another five minutes on that part of
the course by walking it like I was on a Sunday stroll in the park. You just can’t
do that. My mile splits on that section of the course were in the 11’s! That to
me is huge cause it certainly felt like I was walking way more then that.
That’s the power of the purposeful hike. I was starting to do the math and
staring at my watch thinking this was going to be close..really close! I could
PR here. Wait what? That’s nuts, but I could. The math was there and I knew
once I got over this steep section it was bombs away for at least a mile
heading towards the final miles. I passed two younger girls, a few younger men,
then a few others. I bombed that hill all the way down to the aid station
pushing 8 minute pace. I was starting to fade but I grabbed water powerhiked
thru the aid station and started running again. I was doing a 9 minute pace but
I was leaking oil. I then passed a girl and a guy who just seemed to stop due
to cramps I suppose. It seemed like I flew past them. Then I passed a few
others and it was just me for the final mile. That last half a mile into Garden
Spot was a minor incline at best but it felt like Mt. Rainer. It was nice to
get some applause entering the community and I really could smell a PR so I
emptied the tank what was left anyway and managed to run an 8:30 pace for the
last three tenths of a mile. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>4:19:26 was
my final chip time. Certainly not considered fast for a road marathon and far
from a BQ time but it was a distance personal record by 12 seconds over the one
I set two weeks prior in Sea Isle City New Jersey. Not a bad training long run
either and I was able to keep my heart rate somewhat in control. </span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZZ6UdhbXJ4BERC2oWh_BLiKNhB0LSTHrmv7hZ6UslYy38e3E4DByFF09XkAadRf0OsS-mMTiaJ9zBa_LKwPyfCT91aS6Uy-j4V5QZS3CJ2jzeLQBvymrTa0pAwZE9lkpSdTSAxQiPGY/s1600/done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZZ6UdhbXJ4BERC2oWh_BLiKNhB0LSTHrmv7hZ6UslYy38e3E4DByFF09XkAadRf0OsS-mMTiaJ9zBa_LKwPyfCT91aS6Uy-j4V5QZS3CJ2jzeLQBvymrTa0pAwZE9lkpSdTSAxQiPGY/s1600/done.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>All done and smiling</em><br />
<em> and ready for the next adventure.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Garden Spot is a great race. I love the feel of small-town
marathons much more so then the big city corporate marathons. The parking was
easy, packet pick up on race day was easy, the course was well marked and easy
to follow, and most important the volunteers were so very helpful and
enthusiastic at the aid stations and the finish line. Also the entry fee for
the race was very reasonable and the swag was great. I love tech hats so that
was a nice bonus. As a runner there isn’t much more you could ask for. If you
have never been to New Holland to run Garden Spot, you really should give it a
go.</span></div>
Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-33686198293746607702015-04-03T12:52:00.000-07:002015-04-15T07:35:13.768-07:00Race Report : Ocean Drive Marathon - On The Way To Cape May..<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ocean Drive Marathon, a point to point road marathon held at
the end of March from Cape May New Jersey to Sea Isle City New Jersey. The
course is super flat minus a few minor bridge crossings. Not my forte for sure.
I’m a 200 pound trail runner and not a lean and fast road runner. However I
love a great marathon but I’ll be the first to admit that road marathons are
hard. Running on flat roads for hours is a mental challenge and that’s
precisely why I signed up for it. And it comes only a week after The Hat Run mauled
me like a baby seal in shark infested waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So why run races and routes that I know I’m not good at or actually
enjoy? Because it’s great ultra training, that’s why. Everything and everywhere
I run this year is all solely for preparation for Oil Creek 100. Run races I’m
not good at, do speedwork, run mountainous hilly as all hell trail races. Run
in the rain run in the cold run in the snow..when I’m tired when I’m bored when
I don’t feel like it. Run flat roads run hilly trails. I’m going to do it all.
Leave no stone unturned. One target “A” race. One goal way off in the distance.
Finish that 100 miler in October deep in the woods in Northwestern Pennsylvania.
So Ocean Drive it is. It’s just <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a super
flat long run down the shore with seagulls, salt marshes, lapping waves and
boardwalk oddities. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turned out that I
actually really enjoyed this low key marathon even though I suffered a bit.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7i_KM718ACXR2qtjEuFAoLhDg0ELFGc72ffJdidlLfcULQShF9h1sv5UXWc-jg-tZsK48AldSaNo5jeCq-kmfpJKJnR_z_S9bTLFVQl3afwFD13mffEkGRUVvLwqrqQ5rfh-GiKVhZjQ/s1600/FullSizeRender+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7i_KM718ACXR2qtjEuFAoLhDg0ELFGc72ffJdidlLfcULQShF9h1sv5UXWc-jg-tZsK48AldSaNo5jeCq-kmfpJKJnR_z_S9bTLFVQl3afwFD13mffEkGRUVvLwqrqQ5rfh-GiKVhZjQ/s1600/FullSizeRender+(2).jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freezing Cold</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The start time was 9:00 am and it was cold. It was below 30
degrees and the wind coming out of the north and off the water was frigid. The
good thing was the sky was a perfect blue and the sun was strong since we are
heading into April. I was running the race with my running buddy Kourtney and
we huddled in the breezeway of some diner near the start. Ten minutes to nine
we went to the start ask for a picture from a random runner got in line and off
we went. We ran the first 10 miles with the folks who signed up for the 10
miler race. But even with them there couldn’t have been more then 800 runners.
This is a very small local race. These are the races I enjoy. The big corporate
races I don’t enjoy so much.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were holding a tad over 9:00 min miles which honestly was
a little aggressive, but it felt good to me so I didn’t really fight it. In my
head I wanted to PR the distance and beat my Harrisburg marathon time of 4:32
which I ran three months prior in the late fall. That course was much hillier
so I didn’t really feel I was stretching to beat it. We zigzagged along the
streets of Cape May and the wind was seriously strong and it was coming at us.
Up and over the causeway and into Wildwood we went. But first we passed through
the salty low lying marshes for a bit. That smell of salt air and faint scent
of rotting seaweed and shellfish is actually soothing. It reminds me of my
childhood. It’s the Jersey Shore. It’s an East Coast institution. After the
Nordic winter we had here it signaled summertime to my brain and I could not
help but smile. Summertime down the shore. Oh yea! </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We entered Wildwood holding a great pace. Block by block
ticked off and the neighborhoods were really quiet since it’s the off season.
There were a few locals out clapping and watching but no crowds that’s for
sure. Then we hopped onto the Wildwood boardwalk and ran the full length. Past
all the famous landmark’s on the boards. There were people out walking along
and the runners were all spread out so it probably looked strange to some
seeing all these runners dead quiet running along. Like some sort of pack
animals all blowing snot rockets, spitting, and various other bodily functions.
</span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Eh..That’s the way it
is so you must embrace it. No shame here. But this is where we ditched the 10
mile folks, their day was done at the end of the boardwalk. Some were taking
selfies completely oblivious that they were standing in the way of the marathon
runners who had to keep going. That was slightly irritating, but I chalk it up
to inexperience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying goodbye at mile 10</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once past this area it got really quiet and the amount of runners
dropped off significantly. It was on for another 16 miles and frankly I was
actually fixated on that for a bit. It was a stark reminder or more aptly a
blunt reminder that voice saying “hey man you ain’t even half way”!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh…Just brush it off and keep moving at your
pace. We headed off this island, up and over the causeway and onto Stone Harbor
we went. This was tough. I was running out of Tailwind and had hoped for GU or
gels to be available sooner. My fault I should have planned a little better but
I didn’t see my first GU until around mile 14 or so. Because of my poor
planning I was starting to lose some gas and fatigue was creeping in. Granted a
lot of it in hindsight I feel was mental fatigue or worrying about the lack of
GU on the course. I should have not allowed that to bother me, but it did.
Lesson learned for sure and duly noted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We entered Stone Harbor at mile 16 and quickly did a small
out and back of several blocks. It was at this point I bid farewell to Kourtney
as I walked thru a water station and she kept going. I then looked up at the
street signs and we were at <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>122<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup>
Street! We needed to go 122 blocks and pass through Avalon to get to Sea Isle
and mile 24. Oh boy I wished I hadn’t done that. It was one of those OH SHIT
moments. But <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did manage to smirk to
myself. Time to dig deep cause it’s now officially sucking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to collect myself for the final
push.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point I had no choice but
to call some tunnage on my phone reserved for these situations. I switched to
Judas Priest Live in Long Beach 1984. It usually works, and it did for awhile
as it took my mind off block watching. But I still looked many many
times..block 102..block 98..block 91 Jesus Christ who designed this god awful
place!! Deep breaths…</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally after what felt like a month or so I passed through
Avalon and off the island heading into Sea Isle. Like some sick joke the street
signs read 93<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup> street. It was like Groundhog Day. Didn’t I just do
this? I can’t possibly do this again. I had to go another 50 blocks to the
finish at 43<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup> street Promenade. Awesome!! Good Times! I was hurting
at this point. I glanced at my Garmin and I was up on my worst case pace buddy
time by 7:08 minutes and 0.75 mile. Once I realized that the burden to really
push dropped. I began simply run/walking because I had PR’d already no matter
what happened. So my last two miles were my worst because of that. Kinda bummed
I looked. But I managed to run hard the last tenth of a mile for a strong
finish and it was done. 4:19 a distance PR of 13 minutes from my Harrisburg
time. I’ll take it and call it a day. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charging to the Finish<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitqcF9X6X33iPDWgGNHVbjO2uDrg5JbUvoS30nNvlyCBYqke1sMP3DSMmPgYahh6zgRsRJmJfXsREoquCv8Fx6d6TBDtHFy-qGfUZwNg0ZDx38uIm4GEOB7BvutnkZYbujjRnxS3v3Ho/s1600/IMG_0698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitqcF9X6X33iPDWgGNHVbjO2uDrg5JbUvoS30nNvlyCBYqke1sMP3DSMmPgYahh6zgRsRJmJfXsREoquCv8Fx6d6TBDtHFy-qGfUZwNg0ZDx38uIm4GEOB7BvutnkZYbujjRnxS3v3Ho/s1600/IMG_0698.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I rather enjoyed this race. It was super low key and bare
bones. Aid stations were a tad disappointing but I’m used to buffets during
ultra’s so the aid at road marathons is always a slap. Glad I did it and would
certainly recommend it. </span></div>
Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7899543606464990927.post-76991087234355897982015-04-02T13:14:00.000-07:002015-04-15T07:35:26.539-07:00Race Report : The Hat 50K Mud SlideSo of course it snowed six inches in Southeastern Pa the night before. I was really looking forward to this run and had signed up a while ago. Drudging thirty one miles in snow was not something I was looking forward to. However the race was about two hours south of my house and they only received a coating of snow followed by rain. With temperatures expecting to hit sixty, mud was almost sure to crash the party. <br />
<br />
<br />
So off I went barreling down interstate 95 at five in the morning. I arrived at Susquehanna State Park on Saturday morning March 21st, parked, picked up my bib, bought a pint glass and a hat and went back and sat in my car to eat my peanut butter and nutella sandwich. After about 20 minutes I got restless and got out and fiddled with my shoes, attached my bib and fiddled a bunch more. Little did I realize that most of the runners I wanted to go meet and greet were at the pavilion area and not fiddling in the parking lot like I was. It was then Katie Eshlemen came jogging up and gave me a quick hug. I had met Katie last October at the Blues Cruise 50K. She was in a hurry and we wished each other a great run so we didn't get a chance to chat. That's the true secret of these races, the friends you make along the way. <br />
<br />
<br />
I made my way towards the Pavillion and met up with a few of the TrailWhippass crew Brian and Ryan, Mel and Dylan as well as Emir and Amy Dedic and Casey Fisher a friend I met through Instagram. It's so great to see and talk to the same folks from race to race. When people say Trail Running or Ultra Community, it's very true. <br />
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Before I knew it I was walking down into the field for the mass start. Lined up and off we went up the crusty snow covered field.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I chose to wear my new Brooks Cascadia’s with sheet metal
screws in the bottom. This was a wise move as the first half of the race was
packed down snow covered trails. The first four miles are a small loop that
spread the runners out and brought us back to the start pavilion area to the
first aid station. I shared a few of these miles with Mel, whom I just
officially met and we discussed his upcoming run at the Boston Marathon and
various other races we have done. The first 4 miles were gone in a blink of an
eye as I pulled into the pavilion area aid station. After that first aid
station you made your way out to the first big loop of 13 miles and repeated
this loop a second time to get the 50 kilometers. I am not keen on looped
courses however my target race for the year, Oil Creek 100, is a looped course
so many of the races I choose to sign up for in 2015 are loop courses on
purpose to force myself to learn to enjoy them. It’s all a mental thing I
think. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJo8s4y0luSxXpV5E1rlDr6JTPlHE-q2bzBJOT_1w5ZTknj6NycGKJHEokf1WS9IYnMMdMlX9lOpQ7laAZ0CZxDoaB3Bve03uKarNwF0KrNn6a0H0dlT212NGeFsVq_dN9jtWy6pDWac/s1600/IMG_0679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJo8s4y0luSxXpV5E1rlDr6JTPlHE-q2bzBJOT_1w5ZTknj6NycGKJHEokf1WS9IYnMMdMlX9lOpQ7laAZ0CZxDoaB3Bve03uKarNwF0KrNn6a0H0dlT212NGeFsVq_dN9jtWy6pDWac/s1600/IMG_0679.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>3 miles in and still smiling</em></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was feeling good entering the first loop and just chugged
along. The trails were nice and rolling, the air was cool and the sun was
dodging in and out of the clouds. This is when you settle in that groove.
Almost auto pilot like. I remember smiling looking off into the Maryland woods.
Then all of sudden a creek crossing. Just like that wet feet. Man that water
was cold as hell! No big deal. My shoe choice was smart and they drained well.
This is also great ultra training. Learning to deal with wet feet. I embraced
it and didn’t complain about it. It’s like running in the rain. You have to do
it and learn to enjoy it because at some point you will be forced to run in the
rain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After the wet feet the climbing insued. The climbs were not
bad really but they just seemed constant. They would become grinding later on.
After about mile 6 or so I had trouble finding my rhythm. I could not get a
groove going because every time I would start we hit a hill and I hiked. Not a
complaint of the race just my own shortcomings as a runner. I enjoy hiking the
hills and often try to get several thousands of vertical gain in a week in
training. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This after all is just another
long training run really and trying to stay in that mental frame of mind and
keep my heart rate low was proving difficult midway through the first big loop.
Nice and easy I kept telling myself. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWEiDcO8Nyz061YSdoGnBhnHwOA_BqfEZM8SayoMmpauv3AdWepSdOp-fBeT-3UhZhs2Q8yCNMnXrACLmqZzMChNkLaHDzXqj2jGCKZIK9_ptkgOmtNyvcCUBX1PKliWhWjCuVx27wPlI/s1600/IMG_0668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWEiDcO8Nyz061YSdoGnBhnHwOA_BqfEZM8SayoMmpauv3AdWepSdOp-fBeT-3UhZhs2Q8yCNMnXrACLmqZzMChNkLaHDzXqj2jGCKZIK9_ptkgOmtNyvcCUBX1PKliWhWjCuVx27wPlI/s1600/IMG_0668.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Single Track for days</em></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mile after mile ticked off. Another wet creek crossing,
another stone covered park road, more rolling fields and hills. I was enjoying
myself. It didn’t really matter how bad or good I was running. I was out here
running in the woods in a park I had never been with like minded folks. Somewhere
around mile 13 or so as we climbed another steep hill I looked off to the left
and got a fantastic view of the mighty Susquehanna River. It was massive. I
never realized how wide and powerful it really was. It was beautiful. The trail
followed this view for several miles. It was narrow with an actual drop off
that if you were clumsy could fall and get hurt. Up and down and around we
went and across a field then out on Quaker Bottom Road. I decided to bomb this downhill
road portion on blacktop to try and get a little time back. Then back in the woods up a hill
and across the finish for the completion of the first big loop. My watch read
around 3:40 with about 18 miles ticked off. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sat down to change my socks, shirt, and shoes. Then realized I
left my socks in my car and not my drop bag. I was a little irritated to say
the least. I was not about to run back to my car. So I changed into my Pearl
Izumi M2 trail shoes which in hindsight was a mistake. The grip and traction
was nowhere near that of my Cascadia’s with the screws and this really cost me
time I think in the end. I was grumbling to myself and complaining a little
saying I really didn’t feel like going back out. That’s when Casey bluntly told
me that I didn’t want a DNF. People were dropping like crazy due to the muddy
conditions that were developing. Dropping was not an option. I can’t drop cause
of mud, that would be ridiculous. My mindsight is always that dropping during a
race is only acceptable if your injured. I was not injured. I was a little
beaten down and tired but nothing was wrong. So I grabbed some aid at the
pavilion and back out I went. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As soon as I went back out I ran into another Instagram
friend, @sowhatirun. We ran together for maybe a mile or so, snapped a selfie
of course, and chatted a bit. Gotta love social media. Without it I certainly
wouldn’t know half of these great runners. She ran ahead and it this point I
decided to plug in the music. I had ran the first 18 miles without it on
purpose so I could converse with others and just take everything in. But now I
was needing a boost. My quads were starting to take a hit due to the mud. I was
sliding all over the place and was using muscles in my legs to balance myself
I’m sure I rarely used. My pace was taking a hit as well. This last loop was
going to hurt a little. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Rush piped through my ear buds. Lots of Rush. Neil Peart
really gets my legs moving. What a drummer. I started to feel half way decent
now. Cross the creek again, up the hills again, across the wide open field
again. Mud and more mud. It got deeper and deeper. It was a mess and then I
realized I pretty much sucked down the last bit of my Tailwind I had brought. I
needed calories. Lucky for me the next aid station had Mountain Dew, salted
potatoes, and PB&J quarters. I stuffed several potatoes in my face and took
a sandwich quarter. The potatoes were fantastic by the way. Lucky for me I
always can take Mt Dew. They filled up my handheld and off I went. Mountain Dew
tastes so good late in a race. I’m not sure why. I never drink it outside of
races though. I discovered my love of it during Phunt 50K back in January. It
must be the super high jolt of sugar and caffeine. Onward I went back into the
woods. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpLyXpLSorTs5Yf5KshEilmmLwYK_EnjEzZUZh4Y4nUeCieyMRBQ0sFNrpwl16sUY6e1jH3FSKrDHPEsueK4AFEE5ggcSRaDEPzfdmxuaeQSzCJqf3zRUDl9MI1mNJHN7MZbFcVD080c/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpLyXpLSorTs5Yf5KshEilmmLwYK_EnjEzZUZh4Y4nUeCieyMRBQ0sFNrpwl16sUY6e1jH3FSKrDHPEsueK4AFEE5ggcSRaDEPzfdmxuaeQSzCJqf3zRUDl9MI1mNJHN7MZbFcVD080c/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Me and Mr. HAT</em></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Less then 6 miles to go said the sign as I entered the
woods. The mud was really bad at this point. Close to 60 degree temperatures
and hundreds of runners trampling the trail. It was a slog fest. But like they
say embrace that suck and put one foot in front of the other. When I came to
the hill climbs at the river I was pretty much toast. The miles of mud and
slipping and shoe sucking mentally got to me. I was cursing under my breath. I
wanted to be done. My body was done. My mind was done. So I ran when I could and
slowly hiked the hills. Keep moving you stupid jerk. Self deprecation sometimes
works for me. I was at a low point here and I was so close to being done. I
tried to text my wife but could not get a signal for some reason. That’s when
the “F” bombs started. I can laugh about it now, but wasn’t at that point. Then
we popped out at Quaker Bottom Road again! Almost there I kept murmuring to myself. I managed to run a 9:08 mile down the
road which was amazing. Back into the woods up a hill and back across the mud
filled field and across the finish. I was happy to be done. I suffered way more
then I really thought I would coming into this race. The mud was much worse
then I ever imagined. BUT..I got it done in 7 hours 9 minutes. I’ll be back
next year to make amends. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozq20pT1Qan45RWvWWNLb61uZRjIjGEcMjIlyXG9Ug_ita4VxLtONoOGPPiX2WhsNxNsbvQjWi3zMWkTvnFuGYLPGzFut55Um-5Zf8BFZKezVot8brUjg59mmHVVrTuVTm3mJtXND4uQ/s1600/IMG_0680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozq20pT1Qan45RWvWWNLb61uZRjIjGEcMjIlyXG9Ug_ita4VxLtONoOGPPiX2WhsNxNsbvQjWi3zMWkTvnFuGYLPGzFut55Um-5Zf8BFZKezVot8brUjg59mmHVVrTuVTm3mJtXND4uQ/s1600/IMG_0680.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Finishing Strong...sorta</em></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Great race and swag. Great course markings and aid stations.
Awesome friends and awesome time on the trails. A must do race in the Mid
Atlantic/Northeast part of the country. </span></div>
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<br />Keystone Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130211082024336868noreply@blogger.com0