Woodstock, VA
June 2-3, 2012
Finish time: 26:43:29
June 2-3, 2012
Finish time: 26:43:29
The curiosity of attempting a 100 miler has been gnawing at me ever since I crossed the finish line of my first 50 miler (JFK) in 2009. JFK went so well for me that I had to make sure my 50 miler success wasn’t just a fluke, so I signed up for Stone Mill the following year. Unfortunately, I was sidelined with injuries in the fall and I had to wait until 2011’s edition of Stone Mill to attempt a second 50 miler. Even though severe blistering totally compromised my performance at Stone Mill, finishing that 56 mile race resurrected that 100 miler curiosity in me and left me completely pumped up. Getting rejected from the Boston Marathon by 2 seconds was the final kick in the (figurative) balls. I thought, if the B.A.A. wasn’t going to let me train for their race, it’s now or never to go after that 100 miler goal of mine. Fast forward through months and months of vigorous training, miles upon miles upon…well, more miles! Getting up at 4 AM on Fridays to get 20 miles in before work and then doing it all over again Saturday morning to get a long run in before my weekend race. I wracked Karsten Brown’s brain for details about the Old Dominion course and sought out advice from seasoned ultra-runners. I recruited Chris Farmer and Karen Harvey to be my pit crew.
Finally race week was upon me and I was so stressed, I didn’t even have a moment to stop and think about what I was getting myself into that weekend, which in retrospect probably was a good thing! Between Memorial Day weekend, my cousin’s graduation from the Naval Academy, and having only a two day work week to get everything done before leaving on Friday, I barely got myself packed, but I made sure my pit crew would be well prepared for me. Not knowing what I’d need at each aid station, I just made a simple checklist of things to check at every aid station as well as specific things that I knew for sure would be essential at certain miles, like changing into trail shoes. For everything else, I just sorted items and put them into labeled plastic baggies, so Chris and Karen could easily locate them. Since I was warned that the aid stations at OD didn’t have much to offer other than the bare essentials (chips, pretzels, cookies, Coke), I packed a milk crate full of snacks I knew I’d personally like, including Cheez-Its, homemade peanut butter chocolate rice krispies and almond butter rice krispies, Chex muddy buddies, frosted animal crackers, and apple sauce in squeezable pouches (highly recommend these for ultras, really easy to ingest). Chris also surprised me with a package of Double Stuf Golden Oreos! I divvied out snacks into small little snack baggies, so I could stuff them in my backpack as I went through the aid stations and enjoy them at my leisure on the course rather than try to shove all the food into my mouth at the aid stations. I also got a second hydration bladder for my backpack, so it could already be filled with ice water before I got into the station and all Chris and Karen had to do was change it out with the current empty one in my bag rather than have to fiddle with opening and refilling my current one when I got there.
Finally race week was upon me and I was so stressed, I didn’t even have a moment to stop and think about what I was getting myself into that weekend, which in retrospect probably was a good thing! Between Memorial Day weekend, my cousin’s graduation from the Naval Academy, and having only a two day work week to get everything done before leaving on Friday, I barely got myself packed, but I made sure my pit crew would be well prepared for me. Not knowing what I’d need at each aid station, I just made a simple checklist of things to check at every aid station as well as specific things that I knew for sure would be essential at certain miles, like changing into trail shoes. For everything else, I just sorted items and put them into labeled plastic baggies, so Chris and Karen could easily locate them. Since I was warned that the aid stations at OD didn’t have much to offer other than the bare essentials (chips, pretzels, cookies, Coke), I packed a milk crate full of snacks I knew I’d personally like, including Cheez-Its, homemade peanut butter chocolate rice krispies and almond butter rice krispies, Chex muddy buddies, frosted animal crackers, and apple sauce in squeezable pouches (highly recommend these for ultras, really easy to ingest). Chris also surprised me with a package of Double Stuf Golden Oreos! I divvied out snacks into small little snack baggies, so I could stuff them in my backpack as I went through the aid stations and enjoy them at my leisure on the course rather than try to shove all the food into my mouth at the aid stations. I also got a second hydration bladder for my backpack, so it could already be filled with ice water before I got into the station and all Chris and Karen had to do was change it out with the current empty one in my bag rather than have to fiddle with opening and refilling my current one when I got there.
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| All set! |
I got to bed Thursday night much later than desired, but luckily was able to sleep in on Friday morning. Chris picked me up mid-morning and we headed down to the Shenandoah Valley with a quick pitstop at Cracker Barrel for their salad and baked potato lunch special as well as Panera to get my race morning ritual cinnamon crunch bagel for breakfast (also couldn’t resist the tempting cookies there!). We got to the hotel and checked in. I don’t know if the lady at the front desk had running on her brain or what, but I really couldn’t understand how she could butcher my last name so badly!
- “Hi, I need to check in. Last name is An, spelled A-N.”
- “R-A-N?”
- “No, just A-N.”
- “Well, I’m not finding anyone under R-A-N.”
- “That’s because my last name is A-N.”
- “Well, let’s just check under A-N. Oh, there you are. They messed up your last name. Let me get that changed to R-A-N.”
- “I SAID MY LAST NAME IS A...N!!! A AS IN APPLE, N AS IN NANCY. TWO LETTERS!”
Anyways, I got checked in and the hotel was pretty nice for $78/night. It had a fridge and microwave and more importantly (to me at least), free popcorn in the lounge! Our room door was a little finicky with not closing all the way unless you jostled in back and forth 10 times, but I wasn’t about to deal with the front desk lady again! After dropping our bags off, we went over to the Shenandoah Fairgrounds to get me checked in and weighed. Karsten had mentioned that one of the hotels was literally right across from the fairgrounds and I happened to have chosen that one to stay at (too bad there was a fence in the way). I checked in with the medical team, one of which asked me if I had any questions and then proceeded to tell me it always scares her to see small, young athletes attempt such a long endurance event but knows that I must’ve trained up well (gee, thanks for calming my nerves). The other lady took my picture with my bib (#1!). I weighed in at 120 lbs (whoa, that was a big Cracker Barrel lunch!), got my basic cotton t-shirt (hey, at least they had smalls this year!), and perused the aid stations to see what the offerings would be. Other than the cans of chicken noodle soup at the later aid stations, all the other stations had the same exact items of Coke, Pringles, pretzels, Snickers (had to wonder how they’d hold up in the heat), and Keebler oatmeal raisin cookies. Old Dominion is known for being very old school, not having changed much about their race since the start of it in 1979. Needless to say, I was glad I brought my own crew and snacks.
We were done checking in with the race officials at 3:30 and the race briefing wasn’t until 5 PM, so per Karsten’s suggestion, Chris and I decided to drive parts of the course to get an idea of what I was getting myself into. I had heard that the course was pretty well-marked, but a lot of people got lost once they got back into the city, so task #1 was driving the first and final 3 miles of the course. I was having fun going through the course, telling Chris this was like a game, “Find the orange ribbons!” Then we drove up the switchbacks of Woodstock Mountain and the fun was over and the “Holy shit, what did I get myself into?” kicked in. I was glad that we drove that part though because it gave me a good idea of just how high I would have to climb over a very steep and short distance or otherwise, I would’ve probably tried to run the thing, not knowing when the top would come. We went back to the hotel, so I could get some free popcorn, and then rolled on into the 5 PM briefing. The race briefing consisted of a little history about the race, race co-founder Pat Botts speaking, pointing out big ultra figures such as multiple OD finisher Ed Foley, warnings (check for ticks and don’t call 911 unless you want 3 counties’ police departments to show up) and finally current race director Ray Waldron giving a course description, specifically repeating the names of the roads to get back to the fairgrounds...Water. Court, Commerce, Massanutten, Ox. I tried to follow along on the PATC map as he described the course, mostly to try to make myself feel better that if I looked at the map, I wouldn’t get lost (yeah, whatever).
- “Hi, I need to check in. Last name is An, spelled A-N.”
- “R-A-N?”
- “No, just A-N.”
- “Well, I’m not finding anyone under R-A-N.”
- “That’s because my last name is A-N.”
- “Well, let’s just check under A-N. Oh, there you are. They messed up your last name. Let me get that changed to R-A-N.”
- “I SAID MY LAST NAME IS A...N!!! A AS IN APPLE, N AS IN NANCY. TWO LETTERS!”
Anyways, I got checked in and the hotel was pretty nice for $78/night. It had a fridge and microwave and more importantly (to me at least), free popcorn in the lounge! Our room door was a little finicky with not closing all the way unless you jostled in back and forth 10 times, but I wasn’t about to deal with the front desk lady again! After dropping our bags off, we went over to the Shenandoah Fairgrounds to get me checked in and weighed. Karsten had mentioned that one of the hotels was literally right across from the fairgrounds and I happened to have chosen that one to stay at (too bad there was a fence in the way). I checked in with the medical team, one of which asked me if I had any questions and then proceeded to tell me it always scares her to see small, young athletes attempt such a long endurance event but knows that I must’ve trained up well (gee, thanks for calming my nerves). The other lady took my picture with my bib (#1!). I weighed in at 120 lbs (whoa, that was a big Cracker Barrel lunch!), got my basic cotton t-shirt (hey, at least they had smalls this year!), and perused the aid stations to see what the offerings would be. Other than the cans of chicken noodle soup at the later aid stations, all the other stations had the same exact items of Coke, Pringles, pretzels, Snickers (had to wonder how they’d hold up in the heat), and Keebler oatmeal raisin cookies. Old Dominion is known for being very old school, not having changed much about their race since the start of it in 1979. Needless to say, I was glad I brought my own crew and snacks.
We were done checking in with the race officials at 3:30 and the race briefing wasn’t until 5 PM, so per Karsten’s suggestion, Chris and I decided to drive parts of the course to get an idea of what I was getting myself into. I had heard that the course was pretty well-marked, but a lot of people got lost once they got back into the city, so task #1 was driving the first and final 3 miles of the course. I was having fun going through the course, telling Chris this was like a game, “Find the orange ribbons!” Then we drove up the switchbacks of Woodstock Mountain and the fun was over and the “Holy shit, what did I get myself into?” kicked in. I was glad that we drove that part though because it gave me a good idea of just how high I would have to climb over a very steep and short distance or otherwise, I would’ve probably tried to run the thing, not knowing when the top would come. We went back to the hotel, so I could get some free popcorn, and then rolled on into the 5 PM briefing. The race briefing consisted of a little history about the race, race co-founder Pat Botts speaking, pointing out big ultra figures such as multiple OD finisher Ed Foley, warnings (check for ticks and don’t call 911 unless you want 3 counties’ police departments to show up) and finally current race director Ray Waldron giving a course description, specifically repeating the names of the roads to get back to the fairgrounds...Water. Court, Commerce, Massanutten, Ox. I tried to follow along on the PATC map as he described the course, mostly to try to make myself feel better that if I looked at the map, I wouldn’t get lost (yeah, whatever).
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| Shenandoah Fairgrounds |
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| Aid Station offerings |
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| Bib and shirt picked up |
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| Burnshire Dam |
The briefing lasted 45 minutes and then Chris and I rushed out of there to head off to Harrisonburg for dinner before the torrential storms unleashed. I wanted to get a baked sweet potato, so we opted for Texas Roadhouse, since I won a gift certificate for dinner there from a 5K in March. This time, my first name was butchered (“No, not Samantha. I said Amanda. A-MAN-DUH!”). I stuffed myself pretty well with bread, a sweet potato, rice, steak, and shrimp, leaving no room for dessert even though I was seriously craving a banana pudding milkshake from Chick fil A and was devastated I wouldn’t get to fulfill that craving after my race on Sunday. We filled up on gas in Harrisonburg for a cheap rate of $3.19 and then got back to Woodstock at 8:30. The storms had eased up and left a beautiful full rainbow in the sky (too bad we couldn’t capture the whole thing in a picture). I went over the pit crew details with Chris, showing him my checklist and how to fill up my hydration pack. He reassured me that I had nothing to worry about, he and Karen would take care of everything and it’d be like an auto shop. All I had to do was roll into the aid station and they’d change my oil, rotate my tires, and get me in and out of there in a jiffy. I then took a quick shower and was knocked out by 9 PM with no problem.
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| Rainbow! |
By 2 AM, I was tossing and turning, ready for the day to start already, yet trying to fall back asleep to try to get an adequate amount of sleep before a very tiring journey ahead. The alarm finally went off at 3 AM. The nervous anxiety about what I was about to partake in was starting to set in, but the slower pace and laidbackness of ultras had a calming effect on me. After checking my emails and Facebook for 10 minutes, I got out of bed and said to Chris, “Leggo!” I hopped in the shower, then body-glided every nook and cranny that would be touching clothes, and filled up with hydration pack with ice water. Even though my stomach was growling, I could barely choke down my cinnamon crunch bagel because the nerves were really getting to me at this point. The anxiety and way early wakeup time also hampered my bathroom routine, which left me slightly concerned considering all the food I put in me in the last 24 hours. Before I knew it, 3:45 AM rolled around and I needed to get out over to the fairgrounds to check in before the race started. I rushed out of the hotel still in my flip flops, carrying my shoes in one hand and a Ziploc baggy of Vaseline and an anti-blister kit in the other. I haphazardly covered my big toes in the Spenco 2nd Skin Blister Kit and doused my toes with Vaseline, threw my socks on, checked in with the timer guy and found myself at the starting line with just a minute to soak in what was really going on. I was kind of glad I didn’t have any extra time to spare to let the nerves get to me. I avoided looking at the rest of the race field, specifically the 6 other women running, because like a test in school, I didn’t want to psych myself out beforehand.
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| Ready to go! |
We crossed over a bridge with a beautiful view of the Shenandoah River at the Burnshire Dam and started a very steep ascent up Woodstock Mountain on switchback roads. Since I drove this part with Chris yesterday, I knew that the switchbacks continued for a while (one other runner told me there were 13 total) and didn’t get any less steep, so I immediately slowed down to a power walk. The steepness of this climb was back breaking, even at a walking pace. Several faster runners passed me along this stretch. Some were passing me walking and I was wondering how their walk stride was so much more efficient than mine! I think the one girl that passed me running continued running up the entire way to earn her position as 1st female for the majority of the race (she came up from Alabama with the intention of winning). I just continued on at my pace, trying to enjoy the sunrise and not think about my back hurting from the climb. Out of habit, I still found myself walking the tangents up the mountain. I took an S-cap at the 1 hour mark on my watch and made it a routine to take a salt pill every hour on the hour. I finally reached the top of the mountain and found myself at the Woodstock Gap aid station (mile 7.18). Since I was still pretty full from the bagel for breakfast, I just took a Gu and continued on.
The next 3 miles consisted of a pretty steep grade downhill that was really easy to open up and get back into a good running pace. I had read warnings about not going out too fast in this section but also didn’t want to cause my quads to cease up by breaking too much, so I just tried to free fall and let gravity take over. I had left the last aid station with two females and one other male and the four of us ran together and chatted for a little bit. I didn’t catch the name of the one guy or the girl who was from Annapolis, but the other female was named Katherine and we ran into each other quite a few times throughout the course. The three of us talked about how it seemed like there were more than 7 females at the starting line, how it was a little puzzling why more females don’t do ultras, and how the very small women’s field made us all feel a little bit more pressure to finish so as not to let our gender down. The guy running with us then joked that he was running with half of the women’s field right now! I found out a little more about how the one 30 year-old woman was from Annapolis and this was her first 100 miler. The other woman, Katherine, was 42 and this was her second attempt at OD. She got lost in the trail section between miles 32 to 47 last year and didn’t make the Elizabeth Furnace midnight cutoff and got pulled there. I wracked her brain a little about her experience last year. The three of them mentioned how I was scaring them yesterday because of how meticulously I was studying the map as Ray described the course. I just laughed and told them looking at the map just made me feel better psychologically but I am still no more familiar with the course than they are.
We made it to the In Boyer aid station (mile 10.17) and I grabbed a Fig Newton and ate it as I continued running. I almost missed the ribbon to the left to enter the first trail section of the race, but the Annapolis woman caught it and saved me from getting lost. This trail section was rather rocky but still somewhat runnable. I ran what I could and walked when it was too rocky. I quickly lost the others as they fell behind in this section. Two guys were heading down the rocky hill in the opposite direction and I stopped dead in my tracks, confused that I might be going the wrong way. They reassured me that I was going the right way (I later learned they missed the turn onto the trail section and ran the loop backwards but was still allowed to continue because they covered the same distance). After about 3 miles of trails, I was back out on the road and on the way back to the aid station. I was again able to open up a good running stride here. I made a pitstop behind a rock to answer the first of many of nature’s calls that day, glad that carrying my own water really helped me stay well hydrated throughout the day. I was having a little bit of GI issues at this point, having not cleared myself of yesterday’s meals beforehand and also experiencing a little indigestion. I pulled the little cheat sheets Karsten made for me that had all the aid stations listed by name and mile, distance to next aid station, and little outhouse icons for aid stations with actual toilet facilities nearby. I saw that the first aid station to have a bathroom wasn’t until mile 47.70, so I would either have to duck into the woods or hold it and hope the feeling goes away. I got back to the aid station (Out Boyer, mile 14.61) and had a Gu and two Pringles. The humidity in the air made the Pringles so soggy that those were my last chips for the day. I commented to Katherine, who had caught up to me by that point, about the humidity making all the snacks soggy, and she said probably the fat in the Pringles didn’t help.
After Boyer Out, we headed down the road and traversed through more rolling hills. I was debating in my head whether it took more energy for me to stop to a walk up the hills or just slowly and steadily run up them, and alternated between the two. We then hit a very gradual, long hill leading up to the 770/758 aid station (mile 19.64), the first pit crew station. I walked up the first part of the hill, but when I could start hearing noise from the crews waiting at the top, I took off on a run. I got there in 3 hours and 36 minutes and was so excited to see a familiar face that I caught Chris by surprise by giving him a giant bear hug. I dropped my bag and let him change the hydration pack and refill my Gu’s as I opened my container of rice krispies and gobbled some down in addition to taking 2 Tums and some crystallized ginger to settle my tummy. He asked me if I needed anything else. I asked for Coke but the station didn’t have any, so Chris said he’d go get some from town for me. I had debated applying a band-aid to my toe that I had a wart removed from since it was getting slightly irritated, but decided I could hold out for 10 more miles and to keep surging ahead. He mentioned that he thought I was the second woman, but I paid no attention to that with nearly ⅘ of the race still ahead of me.
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| All smiles at mile 20 |
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| Nom nom nom! |
I took off right alongside Katherine for another 13 miles of mostly rolling country hills. She told me that she didn’t like the abrupt stopping motion of going from running to walking and found it more energy-conserving to just slowly run up the hills, to which I agreed and ran up them with her. I asked her how she prepared for OD and she told me she ran a couple 50 mile races and was only doing 25 miles/week other than that (I think I heard her right). I told her I trained by putting in 70-80 mile weeks and she said she didn’t think her body could handle such heavy mileage. It was interesting to hear how differently other people trained for this event. I really enjoyed taking in the mountain scenery and not thinking about the daunting challenge of completing 100 miles at this time. The 803/678 aid station (mile 22.71) came and went and Katherine mentioned that the next station marks ¼ of our race and there were potatoes there last year. Disappointingly, they did not have potatoes, but I was surprised and happy to see Tums and ginger. The volunteer was surprised that I was the second person already to take her up on Tums, but glad that she had listened to a friend’s advice to have them available there. I grabbed a handful of goldfish and continued on my way. My GI issues settled out and didn’t bother me again throughout the majority of the race. I don’t remember much about the Creekside aid station (mile 28.52), but I was in my routine of taking an S-cap every hour and a Gu pretty frequently too. Katherine was starting to feel the miles and I lost her when she ducked into the woods to pee.
I made it to the next pit crew aid station (Four Points #1, mile 32.55) in 5 hours and 55 minutes, where I got to see Karen Harvey for the first time, since Chris had picked her up from the hotel after seeing me off at the last crew point. They both appeared a little flustered that I was there already and didn’t have all the things on my checklist ready for me, but the trail shoes were out, so I sat in the chair and immediately got to work on changing my shoes. I slapped a blister band-aid on my wart toe, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that for the rest of the day. I asked Karen and Chris about what they’d been eating, wanting to make sure my crew was well taken care of so that they’d have the energy to take care of me. I then drank some Coke and half a coconut water, ran over to the aid station to get some real food, came back to Chris and Karen asking for a fresh headband (I brought almost my entire collection of Lululemon headbands to keep my head dry), got covered in bug spray, and ran off into the woods.
I made it to the next pit crew aid station (Four Points #1, mile 32.55) in 5 hours and 55 minutes, where I got to see Karen Harvey for the first time, since Chris had picked her up from the hotel after seeing me off at the last crew point. They both appeared a little flustered that I was there already and didn’t have all the things on my checklist ready for me, but the trail shoes were out, so I sat in the chair and immediately got to work on changing my shoes. I slapped a blister band-aid on my wart toe, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that for the rest of the day. I asked Karen and Chris about what they’d been eating, wanting to make sure my crew was well taken care of so that they’d have the energy to take care of me. I then drank some Coke and half a coconut water, ran over to the aid station to get some real food, came back to Chris and Karen asking for a fresh headband (I brought almost my entire collection of Lululemon headbands to keep my head dry), got covered in bug spray, and ran off into the woods.
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| Oil change and tire rotation! |
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| "See ya in a few (hours, that is)!" |
The next section consisted of two loops of trails, totaling 15 miles before we ended up at the same crew station at mile 47.70. I had heard that this is where the race really starts to get tougher, so I was mentally preparing myself. As I made my way up the first loop, a runner in an Oikos greek yogurt shirt, turned to me and said, “You are a fast little one!” I laughed and we got to talking about the first portion of the race and he was wishing there were more trails. We then hit the trails and he sped off into the distance, as I took my time over the not very runnable rocks. Even though I had been warned about how bad the horse flies were in the trail section, I hardly noticed them at all. There were a few times that I was running with my mouth open and either a bunch of pollen or a bug got caught in the back of my throat and left me with a nasty dry cough. I tried to make a point to keep my mouth shut, but then my drippy nose from the allergies and having to constantly blow snot rockets got annoying. I had gotten out of the first tough, trail section without much problem and was on my way back down the road to the other loop. As I ran downhill, a car slowed down to my pace and rolled down his window to ask where we were all heading. I told him about the race and he shook his head in awe and wished me luck. Another car also rolled down his window a little further on and asked me what mile we were at. The volunteers who had directed me left the first time now told me to go right and that a very wet and tough 8 miles were ahead. They had a trash bag and water out, making me think that this was one of the two aid stations I had to hit before I got back to my crew at 47.
The first section of trail was mostly dirt and roots, which were very runnable and made me feel like a gazelle compared to my ginger baby steps on the rocks earlier. I scared the living crap out of Katherine when I came up from behind her, and she told me she had been thinking about me because I had told her I liked dirt trails with roots. She wished me well and told me to do my thing. The fun didn’t last too long before I found myself climbing and climbing, with the trail getting more and more rocky. I got to the unmanned Peach Orchard aid station (mile 38.67) and munched away on two Keebler oatmeal cookies. I was feeling good and pulled out my sheet to see how many miles until I was back at the crew station, only to devastatingly find out that I still had to hit the Crisman Hollow Road medical checkpoint aid station before I got back to the crew. I had misjudged how far I was because the volunteers that directed me onto this trail weren’t actually an official aid station. So here I was thinking I had already reached mile 43 when I was only at mile 38 and traversing through a very tough trail section. I had a mini mental breakdown, my first low point of the day. I tried to stay positive and trudge onward, but couldn’t help but curse out every prickly bush that brushed along my leg. I passed a few groups of hikers going in the opposite direction and thought that they must be wondering why anyone would ever want to run this, let alone during a 100 mile race. I eventually got through that slump, mainly being thankful that the weather was being so cooperative today. I made it to the Crisman Hollow Rd. aid station (mile 43.13) for my first weigh-in. I thought it was pretty inaccurate to have me step on 3 different scales for the 3 different weigh-in’s, but I weighed in at 122.5 lbs. They told me I was cleared to go on and then offered me an assortment of snacks. I partook in a cup of frozen mango (quite refreshing) and a homemade cookie that one of the medical ladies made.
The next 4.5 miles were on paved or gravel roads, mostly descending and shaded. I had no trouble zooming through the miles and looked forward to seeing Karen and Chris again. A guy wearing a hat and orange shirt (who I later learned was Katherine’s father) was standing on the trail about a ½ mile away from the aid station telling me I was near and what place I was in. I got to the aid station at 7 hours and 14 minutes and Karen and Chris had my road shoes out to change back into, since the next portion was back on mostly gravel roads. I was tolerating both food and Gu really well at that point (almost worried I didn’t pack enough Gu’s) and not having trouble with hunger or GI issues, which was probably a major factor in my feeling and doing so well up to this point. However, I had focused most of my snacks on carbs, sugar, salt, and fat and had failed to account for protein intake and my body was begging for protein now. I rolled into the mile 47 station, telling Chris and Karen, “I want a chicken sandwich and French fries.” Chris asked me from where and I said I didn’t care and told him that I just needed to get the protein into my body. Karen offered me some of her ham, but I don’t even like ham when I’m not running, so that didn’t appeal to me. I ate some more rice krispies and apple sauce and took a few swigs of Muscle Milk to hold me over until the next time I saw them and headed off.
The first section of trail was mostly dirt and roots, which were very runnable and made me feel like a gazelle compared to my ginger baby steps on the rocks earlier. I scared the living crap out of Katherine when I came up from behind her, and she told me she had been thinking about me because I had told her I liked dirt trails with roots. She wished me well and told me to do my thing. The fun didn’t last too long before I found myself climbing and climbing, with the trail getting more and more rocky. I got to the unmanned Peach Orchard aid station (mile 38.67) and munched away on two Keebler oatmeal cookies. I was feeling good and pulled out my sheet to see how many miles until I was back at the crew station, only to devastatingly find out that I still had to hit the Crisman Hollow Road medical checkpoint aid station before I got back to the crew. I had misjudged how far I was because the volunteers that directed me onto this trail weren’t actually an official aid station. So here I was thinking I had already reached mile 43 when I was only at mile 38 and traversing through a very tough trail section. I had a mini mental breakdown, my first low point of the day. I tried to stay positive and trudge onward, but couldn’t help but curse out every prickly bush that brushed along my leg. I passed a few groups of hikers going in the opposite direction and thought that they must be wondering why anyone would ever want to run this, let alone during a 100 mile race. I eventually got through that slump, mainly being thankful that the weather was being so cooperative today. I made it to the Crisman Hollow Rd. aid station (mile 43.13) for my first weigh-in. I thought it was pretty inaccurate to have me step on 3 different scales for the 3 different weigh-in’s, but I weighed in at 122.5 lbs. They told me I was cleared to go on and then offered me an assortment of snacks. I partook in a cup of frozen mango (quite refreshing) and a homemade cookie that one of the medical ladies made.
The next 4.5 miles were on paved or gravel roads, mostly descending and shaded. I had no trouble zooming through the miles and looked forward to seeing Karen and Chris again. A guy wearing a hat and orange shirt (who I later learned was Katherine’s father) was standing on the trail about a ½ mile away from the aid station telling me I was near and what place I was in. I got to the aid station at 7 hours and 14 minutes and Karen and Chris had my road shoes out to change back into, since the next portion was back on mostly gravel roads. I was tolerating both food and Gu really well at that point (almost worried I didn’t pack enough Gu’s) and not having trouble with hunger or GI issues, which was probably a major factor in my feeling and doing so well up to this point. However, I had focused most of my snacks on carbs, sugar, salt, and fat and had failed to account for protein intake and my body was begging for protein now. I rolled into the mile 47 station, telling Chris and Karen, “I want a chicken sandwich and French fries.” Chris asked me from where and I said I didn’t care and told him that I just needed to get the protein into my body. Karen offered me some of her ham, but I don’t even like ham when I’m not running, so that didn’t appeal to me. I ate some more rice krispies and apple sauce and took a few swigs of Muscle Milk to hold me over until the next time I saw them and headed off.
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| "I want a chicken sandwich and French fries" |
The next 4 miles went straight uphill on a gravel road. It was now the hottest part of the day, so I was no longer keeping to tangents but rather to whatever side had shade. I started power walking up the hill, thinking it’d level out any time now, but it kept going up and up and up. I tried running for a little bit, but with no sign of the top within reach and the steepness not leveling out any, my effort was useless and I went back to walking, thinking this was a good break. Songs were running on repeat through my head, mainly David Guetta’s “Titanium” and Gym Class Heroes’ “The Fighter” because I had heard them on the car ride the day before. I was completely lost in thought when I walked over a huge orange “50 mi.” spray painted on the ground. “Holy crap!” I thought! I’ve reached the halfway mark and I’m still feeling amazingly awesome in comparison to how I felt at 50 miles into JFK and Stone Mill. All my hard training for this 100 is paying off! I looked at my watch, saw I had been running for 9 hours and 50 minutes, and had a little mini celebration in my head for making it halfway through the race. With a little over 14 hours until I hit 24 hours of running, thoughts of potentially buckling came to mind, but I knew it was still early to lock any kind of guarantee into place. I was even more ecstatic that hitting 50 miles meant the next aid station was less than a mile away. I reached the Mountain Top aid station (mile 50.92), where two young boys ran partially down the hill to greet me and tell me I’m doing a great job. They then proceeded to help their mom with the aid station by offering me flavor ice. When I reached the aid table, I asked the gentleman there that was taking my bib number if I had finally reached the top of the mountain yet and he told me, “Yep.” I ate a huge chunk of sweet potato and then headed out of the station just as Katherine was rolling in. She told me she was horrible on rocks and walked that whole section, but caught up to me here because she ran most of the last 3 miles that I power walked. Funny how we had different strengths, but it all evened out in the end. She said she was asking her parents how “pink girl” was doing back at the last aid station. Apparently “pink girl” stuck and that’s what I became known as amongst the crew aid stations.
The man at the aid station pointed me off in the direction of the trail, saying “Just a little up, then down.” I figured I got enough of a break walking the last 3 miles, so it was time to start running again, even if I was still traveling up a little. Well, even though I lost 200 feet of elevation between the Mountain Top aid station and the next aid station, it was no steady downgrade. In fact, the hills continued with lots of steep ups and downs, with me hardly noticing the downs. I felt like I was pretty misinformed at that last aid station and was thinking, “Those fools [insert more foul word] lied to me!” This was my second grumpy point of the day and I kept thinking back to Karsten’s email: “STAY POSITIVE!” Ok, positive thoughts...positive thoughts, let’s think of things that make me happy. I started rattling off a list of things that made me happy. First thing that came to mind was those giant 5 foot tall Costco bears. Those silly bears immediately brought a smile to my face. Ok, positive thinking is working. Let’s keep listing. It’s a little bit of a blur as to what that list consisted of, but all I know is that a lot of the things I was thinking of made me smile and all of a sudden, I stopped noticing the hills. I was back in my happy place.
I was ecstatic to reach the Edinburg Gap aid station (mile 56.57) in 11 hours and 17 minutes, rolling in with a huge smile on my face, as I knew there’d be a chicken sandwich and French fries waiting for me. To my surprise, Chris and Karen had just made it there, which worked out perfectly because the food was still warm. Chris told me he got me both Wendy’s and Burger King, so I could have a choice of which sandwich I preferred to eat. When it comes to food, I am already indecisive enough on a normal basis, let alone in the delusional state I was currently in. So when he asked which one I wanted, I simply said, “YES!” and picked up both and started stuffing my face, alternating bites between both sandwiches. Chris and Karen (and all the other spectators for that matter) just laughed at me. When Chris told me there were French fries in the bags too, I dropped both sandwiches and started stuffing my face with both kinds of fries. He laughed and snapped a picture, saying I was going to kill him for posting pictures of me shoving French fries in my mouth. I responded with, “No, I’ll kill you later. I still need you right now.” I continued nomming away on the sandwiches, when Oikos guy appeared and said, “You again?!” I held out one of my chicken sandwiches and offered to share the wealth with him. After I ate half of each sandwich and didn’t think I could eat much more without my food wanting to come back up as soon as I started running, I let go of the sandwiches and said I was done with those. Chris asked about the French fries and I grabbed the Wendy’s container and said, “I’m taking these French fries with me!” and ran off snickering.
The man at the aid station pointed me off in the direction of the trail, saying “Just a little up, then down.” I figured I got enough of a break walking the last 3 miles, so it was time to start running again, even if I was still traveling up a little. Well, even though I lost 200 feet of elevation between the Mountain Top aid station and the next aid station, it was no steady downgrade. In fact, the hills continued with lots of steep ups and downs, with me hardly noticing the downs. I felt like I was pretty misinformed at that last aid station and was thinking, “Those fools [insert more foul word] lied to me!” This was my second grumpy point of the day and I kept thinking back to Karsten’s email: “STAY POSITIVE!” Ok, positive thoughts...positive thoughts, let’s think of things that make me happy. I started rattling off a list of things that made me happy. First thing that came to mind was those giant 5 foot tall Costco bears. Those silly bears immediately brought a smile to my face. Ok, positive thinking is working. Let’s keep listing. It’s a little bit of a blur as to what that list consisted of, but all I know is that a lot of the things I was thinking of made me smile and all of a sudden, I stopped noticing the hills. I was back in my happy place.
I was ecstatic to reach the Edinburg Gap aid station (mile 56.57) in 11 hours and 17 minutes, rolling in with a huge smile on my face, as I knew there’d be a chicken sandwich and French fries waiting for me. To my surprise, Chris and Karen had just made it there, which worked out perfectly because the food was still warm. Chris told me he got me both Wendy’s and Burger King, so I could have a choice of which sandwich I preferred to eat. When it comes to food, I am already indecisive enough on a normal basis, let alone in the delusional state I was currently in. So when he asked which one I wanted, I simply said, “YES!” and picked up both and started stuffing my face, alternating bites between both sandwiches. Chris and Karen (and all the other spectators for that matter) just laughed at me. When Chris told me there were French fries in the bags too, I dropped both sandwiches and started stuffing my face with both kinds of fries. He laughed and snapped a picture, saying I was going to kill him for posting pictures of me shoving French fries in my mouth. I responded with, “No, I’ll kill you later. I still need you right now.” I continued nomming away on the sandwiches, when Oikos guy appeared and said, “You again?!” I held out one of my chicken sandwiches and offered to share the wealth with him. After I ate half of each sandwich and didn’t think I could eat much more without my food wanting to come back up as soon as I started running, I let go of the sandwiches and said I was done with those. Chris asked about the French fries and I grabbed the Wendy’s container and said, “I’m taking these French fries with me!” and ran off snickering.
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| Double-fisting |
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| "I'll kill you later, I still need you now." |
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| Sharing the wealth! |
The volunteers pointed me up the ATV trail and I continued at a slow and steady pace while still eating my French fries. Oh man was that meal satisfying! The warmness, the protein, the fat...everything hit the spot! I thought about Grace telling me about how French fries were the perfect ultra food from her HAT 50K experience and about the time we did a Friday morning 20 miler and made a pitstop at McDonald’s for hashbrowns. I folded the empty cardboard box and shoved it into the front pocket of my backpack. It fell out 3 or 4 times and even though it hurt like hell to bend over, I refused to leave litter on the trail, especially since anyone trailing me would know that I was eating French fries at the aid station and was the culprit of the littering. A mile or so into the ATV section, it registered that I had passed the 56 mile point at the last aid station and every step forward from there on would be my longest run ever!
The ATV trail section was tough, since it was dry, hard-packed dirt with lots of uneven footing and eventually turning into rocky sections. The rain that came in yesterday evening also left massive standing puddles of mud that we constantly had to veer around. Oikos guy caught up to me and told me he regretted taking a bite of my leftover chicken sandwich. I asked him, “Why? Is it not sitting well in your stomach?” to which he responded, “No, it’s because now I wish I could have some more!” I told him, he could’ve taken the rest of it because I was done. The Peter’s Mill Pond station (mile 59.57) was unmanned, but at least had some snacks lying around. By this point in the race, the fatigue was starting to set in and the ATV trails were really doing a number on me. I was now overestimating how high I could lift my legs at that point and kept bumping and tripping over the rocks. I twisted my right ankle, but luckily not bad enough for it to swell up. I took a nasty spill that cut up my right hand and shook me up a little. I sat on the ground for a few seconds, telling myself to get it together before I got back up and trudged on. Still, I kept banging into the rocks and cursing every time because it would send a searing sensation of pain throughout my body. I think I also pulled my right calf muscle in my stupor, as it was now feeling super tight and altering my gait a little. I only saw a few other runners in this section and whenever we asked one another how the other was doing, the answer would always be something along the lines of “Alright” or “Hanging in there.” One guy said “Hanging in there” was all he could say to me without lying about how he was doing. Towards the end of the ATV trail section, annoying motorbikes and ATV’s were driving through the trails and the loud noise was sending searing pain through my ears. Finally, I saw the Katherine’s dad (orange guy) and told him, “You’re my favorite person to see because I know that means I’m close to the aid station!”
I came into the Little Fort aid station (mile 64.25) at 13 hours and 26 minutes, excited because Chris had told me this was the “party aid station” and the volunteers would be BBQing here. I perused the food offerings and decided to eat a hot dog and one of the brown sugar burgers. The volunteers offered me buns, but the thought of dry bread going into my mouth didn’t appeal to me, so I just ate the meat for some more protein. By this point in the race, I was still sticking to my routine of S-caps on the hour every hour, but Gu’s were getting to become less and less appealing to me and I was sticking more to solid foods. I had my apple sauce, which I had asked for at the last aid station but completely forgot about because of the chicken sandwiches and French fries until I had already left the station. I felt a little beat up from the ATV trails and told Chris and Karen what I just went through. Karen noticed my right calf looking super tight and asked if my legs were ok. I told her my right calf was “very angry” but I felt it was safe to go on without doing anything to it. Karen told me that she heard the next mile was up, but then it gradually declines for 4 miles to the next aid station and then another 5 miles to go to the next crew station.
The ATV trail section was tough, since it was dry, hard-packed dirt with lots of uneven footing and eventually turning into rocky sections. The rain that came in yesterday evening also left massive standing puddles of mud that we constantly had to veer around. Oikos guy caught up to me and told me he regretted taking a bite of my leftover chicken sandwich. I asked him, “Why? Is it not sitting well in your stomach?” to which he responded, “No, it’s because now I wish I could have some more!” I told him, he could’ve taken the rest of it because I was done. The Peter’s Mill Pond station (mile 59.57) was unmanned, but at least had some snacks lying around. By this point in the race, the fatigue was starting to set in and the ATV trails were really doing a number on me. I was now overestimating how high I could lift my legs at that point and kept bumping and tripping over the rocks. I twisted my right ankle, but luckily not bad enough for it to swell up. I took a nasty spill that cut up my right hand and shook me up a little. I sat on the ground for a few seconds, telling myself to get it together before I got back up and trudged on. Still, I kept banging into the rocks and cursing every time because it would send a searing sensation of pain throughout my body. I think I also pulled my right calf muscle in my stupor, as it was now feeling super tight and altering my gait a little. I only saw a few other runners in this section and whenever we asked one another how the other was doing, the answer would always be something along the lines of “Alright” or “Hanging in there.” One guy said “Hanging in there” was all he could say to me without lying about how he was doing. Towards the end of the ATV trail section, annoying motorbikes and ATV’s were driving through the trails and the loud noise was sending searing pain through my ears. Finally, I saw the Katherine’s dad (orange guy) and told him, “You’re my favorite person to see because I know that means I’m close to the aid station!”
I came into the Little Fort aid station (mile 64.25) at 13 hours and 26 minutes, excited because Chris had told me this was the “party aid station” and the volunteers would be BBQing here. I perused the food offerings and decided to eat a hot dog and one of the brown sugar burgers. The volunteers offered me buns, but the thought of dry bread going into my mouth didn’t appeal to me, so I just ate the meat for some more protein. By this point in the race, I was still sticking to my routine of S-caps on the hour every hour, but Gu’s were getting to become less and less appealing to me and I was sticking more to solid foods. I had my apple sauce, which I had asked for at the last aid station but completely forgot about because of the chicken sandwiches and French fries until I had already left the station. I felt a little beat up from the ATV trails and told Chris and Karen what I just went through. Karen noticed my right calf looking super tight and asked if my legs were ok. I told her my right calf was “very angry” but I felt it was safe to go on without doing anything to it. Karen told me that she heard the next mile was up, but then it gradually declines for 4 miles to the next aid station and then another 5 miles to go to the next crew station.
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| Little Fort BBQ |
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| Still all smiles, but a little fatigued now |
I felt encouraged by finally being off the ATV trail and bid them goodbye until mile 74, taking some Golden Oreos with me (those really hit the spot!). I climbed the mile uphill and reached a sign labeled OD with the number 65 accompanied by an arrow pointing right and the number 93 accompanied by an arrow pointing left. How cruel! I continued trying to shuffle as best as I could, but it was starting to become a challenge at this point. I saw a skunk come out of the woods and was really freaked out that it was going to spray me, so I avoided eye contact and pushed to a run to get away from it. I also saw a deer cross the road as well as a ton of butterflies throughout the course. Fatigue was starting to set in, so I tried to think about other things. I was imagining the finish and thinking about having to do that one loop around the horse track at the end. All of a sudden, horse race themed music started running through my head. And that horse music somehow turned into the Rocky theme. This made me laugh so hard. I started thinking about how I hear that song at almost every marathon I’ve ever done and how there’s always a huge crowd around cheering, so you kind of have to smile and pretend you’re having a good time no matter how much pain you’re in. I tried smiling to lift my mood up and the Rocky music continued in the background of my head.
I don’t exactly recall when the gravel roads started turning into dirt trail, but it eventually did and I found myself upon many stream crossings. Luckily, even with the torrential storms coming through the night before, there were still plenty of stable rocks to hop on and avoid wet feet. As much as I wanted to soak my swollen feet in the cold water, I was worried about blistering and also didn’t want to have to change my anti-blister bandages if they got wet, so I stuck to the rocks. Two guys caught up to me from behind, one of them being Collin, who Chris had told me was having GI problems back at the last aid station and had been drinking nothing but organic chocolate milk all day. We hit the Mudhole Gap aid station (mile 69.48), where I had my first cup of chicken noodle soup of the day. I also applied Vaseline around my sports bra because it felt like I was starting to chafe. My vision was playing tricks with me at this time and the aid station table started to blur and look like it was moving, so I quickly looked away and hurried to get through there. I noticed that Collin didn’t have anything but a cup of soda there and said to the volunteers that he was feeling much better than 5 miles ago. He asked about the lead woman, because he had been running with her earlier and wanted to know how much of a gap she put on him. She hit that aid station at 5:45 PM and it was now 6:49 PM. I was thinking in my head that there was certainly no chance of catching her now and the only way I’d pass her is if she dropped from the race.
The other guy that had been running with Collin took off and Collin stayed back and started chatting with me. I learned that he had attempted 5 100 milers and completed 3. He tried OD back in 2008 and failed to complete it, but has felt nostalgic about coming back since he loved the course. Back in 2008, he was in such bad shape at the mile 56 aid station that he crashed in the back of his crew van and took a 2 hour nap. He got to Elizabeth Furnace at 11 PM and lollygagged there until 11:59 PM (with midnight being the cutoff to leave Elizabeth Furnace). Sherman’s Gap broke him to pieces and he didn’t complete the race. He encouraged me to run with him to catch up with the other guy, since he couldn’t stand running by himself because all he thinks about is how many miles he has to run. I told him, my body wasn’t letting me go much faster than this pace right now, so he should go ahead and not wait up for me. I pushed through the rest of the trail section on my own (passed by a few campers, which was annoying because I was always falsely hopeful that it was the next aid station), wanting very badly to make it to Elizabeth Furnace in daylight, so Chris and I wouldn’t have to run the toughest section in darkness. Again, I looked out for Katherine’s dad as my sign that I was near the next aid station, yelling out, “Yay, orange guy!” He laughed at my nickname for him. Katherine was not far behind me and we came rolling into the Elizabeth Furnace aid station (mile 74.95) together at 16 hours and 20 minutes into the race.
Right before we got to the aid station, we saw the lead woman standing in the woods, telling us, “It’s all yours. I got pulled.” We were both in shock at what just happened and what that meant for both of us. While we had kept pretty friendly in the first portion of the race, I think it registered in the back of both of our minds that this was still a competition, one that strictly enforced a no ties allowed rule, so neither one of us got too close to the other and surely didn’t wait up for each other through the aid stations to try to stay together. We had been juggling 2nd and 3rd place positions back and forth all throughout the race. First woman getting pulled now meant a very tight race between me and Katherine for 1st. I had no idea what was going on at the aid station, other than Tom Green was there waiting to pace his runner. It turns out his runner happened to be Katherine! I didn’t pay any attention to her and what she was doing (didn’t even see when she took off) and just stayed focused on taking care of myself. First things first, I weighed in at 124 lbs. I saw the chart with my weight window being 111-128 lbs. and really started wondering how overweight that first place girl had to have been to get pulled. I then went over to Chris and Karen and asked for compression sleeves and Biofreeze as I pulled my shoes off, explaining that my calf was screaming and I needed to shut it up. As I was taking care of my shoe changing business, I saw Doug Sullivan walk over. He had sent me an email wishing me good luck and saying “I’ll look for you tomorrow afternoon” but I had no idea exactly what he meant by that and when and where (if even) I would see him. It was certainly a nice surprise to see another familiar face and I talked to him for a little, as I got everything together for the 12 mile journey ahead with Chris. Darkness was setting in and it was getting a little chilly, but I refused Karen’s offer of getting out my longsleeve shirt, thinking I was comfortable now and could hold out to the next station if I got colder.
I was looking forward to reaching this point of the race because I figured the 12 miles with Chris would go by quickly and then I’d have a little over a half marathon to go to finish. By that point, I’d be so ready to be done that I’d be able to push through the pain and get the rest of the race over with. I was so wrong! But more to come on that later…
After running almost the entire duration of the race alone up to this point, save for a few conversations here and there with other runners passing by, it felt a little strange (but good) to run alongside another runner. We spent the first ½ mile filling each other in on our days so far. I asked Chris why the first place girl got pulled. Then Chris told me about the updates that he had been putting up on Facebook all day and how I had a huge group of people following and pulling for me. I also learned about how competitive the crews were getting with each other, particularly the lead woman’s crew, trying to get the scoop from Karen and Chris on me and size me up. The Biofreeze was kicking in, but every step was still getting more and more painful. Every hop down from a rock had me saying “Ow!” I told Chris about some of the low points of my day and what I did to get through them, like the silly Costco bears and the Rocky theme song. Chris kept telling me how proud he was of me and how good I was looking this far into the race. Eventually the story exchange got shorter and shorter, the pain more and more unbearable, and the climb steeper and rockier. Chris kept trying to keep me entertained, saying that was his job as my safety runner, and he started singing all sorts of silly songs, including the Rocky song. My neck and shoulders had started bothering me in the last portion and were getting really stiff now. I had been trying to do tons of shoulder rolls and shrugs to keep stretching my upper body, but it felt like I had been sitting at the computer all day, which essentially was similar to what I was doing by having to keep my body upright for the past 16 and a half hours. With darkness setting in, the air got really chilly, especially down in the valley and by the river. The moon, however, was almost full and sitting really low in the sky, lighting things up tremendously.
We reached the steepest part of the Sherman’s Gap climb and the pain was taking over my body. The exertion that I had to put forth with every step was causing my breathing to shallow and I was panting like a dog. He kept telling me that everything was okay as long as we kept moving forward, but it was very discouraging to look up and see the next chem light several hundred feet straight up the mountain with no sign of ever cresting the top. The slow, relentless forward progress that I had been preaching in my head all day (one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other) came to a halt, as I was forced to take several breaks to catch my breath. I bent over on the rocks, tried to do some downward dogs to stimulate my muscles, and kept looking at Chris and asking why this was happening. The exertion level got so bad, that I started feeling nauseous and dizzy, dry heaving and trying to throw up in hopes that it would make me feel better. Even worse, my vision started to blur and I started to panic. I was in such bad shape that I asked Chris if I could crawl and he told me my hands and knees would not like that very much. He then tried to perk me up by cursing out all the stupid rocks, but I still couldn’t get back into the game. Sleep deprivation was also getting the better of both of us and I asked him if I could just lie down for two minutes in hopes that it would make me feel better. He turned to me and said, “No, you can’t lie down,” so I sadly mumbled, “Ok” and trudged on, secretly wishing that he would’ve said yes but knowing he had my best interest in mind and lying down meant passing out and not waking back up. The climb kept getting steeper and steeper and I kept feeling more nauseous and out of breath until I reached my breaking point and came to a complete standstill. My breaths were short, quick, and shallow and I was seriously questioning my own physical ability to continue. I turned over and sat on the rock and Chris came up close to me and said, “Look at me.” There appeared to be a look of worry on his face, but he quickly hid it and said, “You look amazing right now. You can do this. I’m so proud of you.” I was half-thinking “Yeah right!” but took his word for it because I had nothing else to believe in, so I took his hand and we climbed on, with me clutching tightly to his hand for support. I was still urinating frequently, so Chris wasn’t concerned about my nutrition and hydration and didn’t think anything too serious could be going on with me physically.
Several other groups of runners passed us, some looked concerned about me and asking if I was ok. Others were complaining that they could feel the silver buckle slipping away from them. Although I had hopes all the way up to mile 74 (I still had a 7 hour, 40 minute window at that point), being in contention for buckling was now at the bottom of my list, as I wasn’t even sure I could make it out of this portion alive! I saw at least two women pass, one definitely wearing a bib, but I didn’t care. I had already admitted defeat to the women’s title and said Katherine could have it because Sherman’s Gap was my undoing. One woman, who I’m not sure was a safety runner or racer, asked us if this was our first experience with Sherman’s Gap and Chris said yes. She responded with, “Yep, they’re getting Shermanized.” Chris and I both laughed at that, commenting that we liked that term. A group of guys passed us and one of them was saying he may be delirious right now, but I was hot and he hoped the guy with me wasn't my boyfriend or husband because he didn't want to offend anybody. Another runner passed us with walking poles and then it finally dawned on Chris to go look for some walking sticks to help me climb. He was beating himself up about not thinking of that great idea earlier and I was wondering why I hadn’t thought of it either. I remembered how much of a lifesaver my walking sticks were during my hiking trip in Peru and how I charged relentlessly up and down mountains at record pace with a walking stick clutched in each hand. Chris pulled out a suitable stick and immediately, my pace started to pick up (although it was still a crawl, but hey forward progress beats no progress!).
Taking some of the strain off my legs and forcing my upper body to work helped me regain focus. Chris felt so encouraged by my improvement that he ran off to find a second stick for me to have balanced support. I was still feeling dizzy and nauseous, but at least every step forward was no longer agonizingly painful. The terrain, however, was not at all forgiving and even though we didn’t think it could get much worse, it did continue to get steeper and rockier. We finally crested the top and Chris told me how long we’d been out there and how much distance we’d covered in that time. I was in complete shock as to how slow we were moving, as I didn’t think one could cover so little distance in such a long period of time. Chris continued feeding me positive thoughts to take my mind off of our snail’s pace because the descent down the rocky path was no better than the climb up. Although going down required less exertion, every step was still just as painful and wobbly as going up and now that it was close to midnight, I was really nodding off. I was thinking about how even if I had put in more night training runs, no amount of training would’ve prepared me to run through the night after already moving for 20 hours. I told Chris that he was going to have to keep talking to keep me awake. He was running out of things to talk about and kept asking me questions: “How’s your sister doing in Afghanistan?,” “How’s Melissa liking her summer job?,” etc. I wanted to give detailed answers, but I just couldn’t. It took every ounce of energy out of me to muster a brief response of yes, no, okay, and I was almost going to tell him to just talk and not make me answer so many questions, but I knew that I needed to keep expending the energy to respond to keep myself awake, even if it took so much out of me. Eventually, one of my walking sticks buckled from under me and snapped in half. I had been bearing a lot of weight on it, but it also didn’t help that the rainstorms from the previous evening had made all the branches on the ground super soggy and brittle. Chris scrambled to find me another stick and found this super long, stable stick for me to be balanced again. I was still nodding off so badly that I no longer cared about my hourly salt pill ritual, food intake, and was taking fewer sips from my hydration pack. I finally turned to Chris and said, “Maybe some caffeine in a Gu will help.” I thought that all Gu Roctanes contained caffeine and immediately pulled one of those out and ripped the top off, only to look at the label and see “Contains no caffeine.” I really didn’t want to take a Gu in the first place, let alone one without caffeine, so Chris told me he’d take that one and to get another one out. I reached in my pocket for the chocolate flavored Gu and swallowed that down. Gu’s started become unappealing around mile 50, so I really wasn’t enjoying taking that one now and it barely had much of an effect on me. We continued our march and Chris told me that we had now been out here in as long as it took me to run a marathon, and I didn’t even want to know how little we’ve traveled in that time (curiosity got the better of me though and I had to ask).
I don’t exactly recall when the gravel roads started turning into dirt trail, but it eventually did and I found myself upon many stream crossings. Luckily, even with the torrential storms coming through the night before, there were still plenty of stable rocks to hop on and avoid wet feet. As much as I wanted to soak my swollen feet in the cold water, I was worried about blistering and also didn’t want to have to change my anti-blister bandages if they got wet, so I stuck to the rocks. Two guys caught up to me from behind, one of them being Collin, who Chris had told me was having GI problems back at the last aid station and had been drinking nothing but organic chocolate milk all day. We hit the Mudhole Gap aid station (mile 69.48), where I had my first cup of chicken noodle soup of the day. I also applied Vaseline around my sports bra because it felt like I was starting to chafe. My vision was playing tricks with me at this time and the aid station table started to blur and look like it was moving, so I quickly looked away and hurried to get through there. I noticed that Collin didn’t have anything but a cup of soda there and said to the volunteers that he was feeling much better than 5 miles ago. He asked about the lead woman, because he had been running with her earlier and wanted to know how much of a gap she put on him. She hit that aid station at 5:45 PM and it was now 6:49 PM. I was thinking in my head that there was certainly no chance of catching her now and the only way I’d pass her is if she dropped from the race.
The other guy that had been running with Collin took off and Collin stayed back and started chatting with me. I learned that he had attempted 5 100 milers and completed 3. He tried OD back in 2008 and failed to complete it, but has felt nostalgic about coming back since he loved the course. Back in 2008, he was in such bad shape at the mile 56 aid station that he crashed in the back of his crew van and took a 2 hour nap. He got to Elizabeth Furnace at 11 PM and lollygagged there until 11:59 PM (with midnight being the cutoff to leave Elizabeth Furnace). Sherman’s Gap broke him to pieces and he didn’t complete the race. He encouraged me to run with him to catch up with the other guy, since he couldn’t stand running by himself because all he thinks about is how many miles he has to run. I told him, my body wasn’t letting me go much faster than this pace right now, so he should go ahead and not wait up for me. I pushed through the rest of the trail section on my own (passed by a few campers, which was annoying because I was always falsely hopeful that it was the next aid station), wanting very badly to make it to Elizabeth Furnace in daylight, so Chris and I wouldn’t have to run the toughest section in darkness. Again, I looked out for Katherine’s dad as my sign that I was near the next aid station, yelling out, “Yay, orange guy!” He laughed at my nickname for him. Katherine was not far behind me and we came rolling into the Elizabeth Furnace aid station (mile 74.95) together at 16 hours and 20 minutes into the race.
Right before we got to the aid station, we saw the lead woman standing in the woods, telling us, “It’s all yours. I got pulled.” We were both in shock at what just happened and what that meant for both of us. While we had kept pretty friendly in the first portion of the race, I think it registered in the back of both of our minds that this was still a competition, one that strictly enforced a no ties allowed rule, so neither one of us got too close to the other and surely didn’t wait up for each other through the aid stations to try to stay together. We had been juggling 2nd and 3rd place positions back and forth all throughout the race. First woman getting pulled now meant a very tight race between me and Katherine for 1st. I had no idea what was going on at the aid station, other than Tom Green was there waiting to pace his runner. It turns out his runner happened to be Katherine! I didn’t pay any attention to her and what she was doing (didn’t even see when she took off) and just stayed focused on taking care of myself. First things first, I weighed in at 124 lbs. I saw the chart with my weight window being 111-128 lbs. and really started wondering how overweight that first place girl had to have been to get pulled. I then went over to Chris and Karen and asked for compression sleeves and Biofreeze as I pulled my shoes off, explaining that my calf was screaming and I needed to shut it up. As I was taking care of my shoe changing business, I saw Doug Sullivan walk over. He had sent me an email wishing me good luck and saying “I’ll look for you tomorrow afternoon” but I had no idea exactly what he meant by that and when and where (if even) I would see him. It was certainly a nice surprise to see another familiar face and I talked to him for a little, as I got everything together for the 12 mile journey ahead with Chris. Darkness was setting in and it was getting a little chilly, but I refused Karen’s offer of getting out my longsleeve shirt, thinking I was comfortable now and could hold out to the next station if I got colder.
I was looking forward to reaching this point of the race because I figured the 12 miles with Chris would go by quickly and then I’d have a little over a half marathon to go to finish. By that point, I’d be so ready to be done that I’d be able to push through the pain and get the rest of the race over with. I was so wrong! But more to come on that later…
After running almost the entire duration of the race alone up to this point, save for a few conversations here and there with other runners passing by, it felt a little strange (but good) to run alongside another runner. We spent the first ½ mile filling each other in on our days so far. I asked Chris why the first place girl got pulled. Then Chris told me about the updates that he had been putting up on Facebook all day and how I had a huge group of people following and pulling for me. I also learned about how competitive the crews were getting with each other, particularly the lead woman’s crew, trying to get the scoop from Karen and Chris on me and size me up. The Biofreeze was kicking in, but every step was still getting more and more painful. Every hop down from a rock had me saying “Ow!” I told Chris about some of the low points of my day and what I did to get through them, like the silly Costco bears and the Rocky theme song. Chris kept telling me how proud he was of me and how good I was looking this far into the race. Eventually the story exchange got shorter and shorter, the pain more and more unbearable, and the climb steeper and rockier. Chris kept trying to keep me entertained, saying that was his job as my safety runner, and he started singing all sorts of silly songs, including the Rocky song. My neck and shoulders had started bothering me in the last portion and were getting really stiff now. I had been trying to do tons of shoulder rolls and shrugs to keep stretching my upper body, but it felt like I had been sitting at the computer all day, which essentially was similar to what I was doing by having to keep my body upright for the past 16 and a half hours. With darkness setting in, the air got really chilly, especially down in the valley and by the river. The moon, however, was almost full and sitting really low in the sky, lighting things up tremendously.
We reached the steepest part of the Sherman’s Gap climb and the pain was taking over my body. The exertion that I had to put forth with every step was causing my breathing to shallow and I was panting like a dog. He kept telling me that everything was okay as long as we kept moving forward, but it was very discouraging to look up and see the next chem light several hundred feet straight up the mountain with no sign of ever cresting the top. The slow, relentless forward progress that I had been preaching in my head all day (one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other) came to a halt, as I was forced to take several breaks to catch my breath. I bent over on the rocks, tried to do some downward dogs to stimulate my muscles, and kept looking at Chris and asking why this was happening. The exertion level got so bad, that I started feeling nauseous and dizzy, dry heaving and trying to throw up in hopes that it would make me feel better. Even worse, my vision started to blur and I started to panic. I was in such bad shape that I asked Chris if I could crawl and he told me my hands and knees would not like that very much. He then tried to perk me up by cursing out all the stupid rocks, but I still couldn’t get back into the game. Sleep deprivation was also getting the better of both of us and I asked him if I could just lie down for two minutes in hopes that it would make me feel better. He turned to me and said, “No, you can’t lie down,” so I sadly mumbled, “Ok” and trudged on, secretly wishing that he would’ve said yes but knowing he had my best interest in mind and lying down meant passing out and not waking back up. The climb kept getting steeper and steeper and I kept feeling more nauseous and out of breath until I reached my breaking point and came to a complete standstill. My breaths were short, quick, and shallow and I was seriously questioning my own physical ability to continue. I turned over and sat on the rock and Chris came up close to me and said, “Look at me.” There appeared to be a look of worry on his face, but he quickly hid it and said, “You look amazing right now. You can do this. I’m so proud of you.” I was half-thinking “Yeah right!” but took his word for it because I had nothing else to believe in, so I took his hand and we climbed on, with me clutching tightly to his hand for support. I was still urinating frequently, so Chris wasn’t concerned about my nutrition and hydration and didn’t think anything too serious could be going on with me physically.
Several other groups of runners passed us, some looked concerned about me and asking if I was ok. Others were complaining that they could feel the silver buckle slipping away from them. Although I had hopes all the way up to mile 74 (I still had a 7 hour, 40 minute window at that point), being in contention for buckling was now at the bottom of my list, as I wasn’t even sure I could make it out of this portion alive! I saw at least two women pass, one definitely wearing a bib, but I didn’t care. I had already admitted defeat to the women’s title and said Katherine could have it because Sherman’s Gap was my undoing. One woman, who I’m not sure was a safety runner or racer, asked us if this was our first experience with Sherman’s Gap and Chris said yes. She responded with, “Yep, they’re getting Shermanized.” Chris and I both laughed at that, commenting that we liked that term. A group of guys passed us and one of them was saying he may be delirious right now, but I was hot and he hoped the guy with me wasn't my boyfriend or husband because he didn't want to offend anybody. Another runner passed us with walking poles and then it finally dawned on Chris to go look for some walking sticks to help me climb. He was beating himself up about not thinking of that great idea earlier and I was wondering why I hadn’t thought of it either. I remembered how much of a lifesaver my walking sticks were during my hiking trip in Peru and how I charged relentlessly up and down mountains at record pace with a walking stick clutched in each hand. Chris pulled out a suitable stick and immediately, my pace started to pick up (although it was still a crawl, but hey forward progress beats no progress!).
Taking some of the strain off my legs and forcing my upper body to work helped me regain focus. Chris felt so encouraged by my improvement that he ran off to find a second stick for me to have balanced support. I was still feeling dizzy and nauseous, but at least every step forward was no longer agonizingly painful. The terrain, however, was not at all forgiving and even though we didn’t think it could get much worse, it did continue to get steeper and rockier. We finally crested the top and Chris told me how long we’d been out there and how much distance we’d covered in that time. I was in complete shock as to how slow we were moving, as I didn’t think one could cover so little distance in such a long period of time. Chris continued feeding me positive thoughts to take my mind off of our snail’s pace because the descent down the rocky path was no better than the climb up. Although going down required less exertion, every step was still just as painful and wobbly as going up and now that it was close to midnight, I was really nodding off. I was thinking about how even if I had put in more night training runs, no amount of training would’ve prepared me to run through the night after already moving for 20 hours. I told Chris that he was going to have to keep talking to keep me awake. He was running out of things to talk about and kept asking me questions: “How’s your sister doing in Afghanistan?,” “How’s Melissa liking her summer job?,” etc. I wanted to give detailed answers, but I just couldn’t. It took every ounce of energy out of me to muster a brief response of yes, no, okay, and I was almost going to tell him to just talk and not make me answer so many questions, but I knew that I needed to keep expending the energy to respond to keep myself awake, even if it took so much out of me. Eventually, one of my walking sticks buckled from under me and snapped in half. I had been bearing a lot of weight on it, but it also didn’t help that the rainstorms from the previous evening had made all the branches on the ground super soggy and brittle. Chris scrambled to find me another stick and found this super long, stable stick for me to be balanced again. I was still nodding off so badly that I no longer cared about my hourly salt pill ritual, food intake, and was taking fewer sips from my hydration pack. I finally turned to Chris and said, “Maybe some caffeine in a Gu will help.” I thought that all Gu Roctanes contained caffeine and immediately pulled one of those out and ripped the top off, only to look at the label and see “Contains no caffeine.” I really didn’t want to take a Gu in the first place, let alone one without caffeine, so Chris told me he’d take that one and to get another one out. I reached in my pocket for the chocolate flavored Gu and swallowed that down. Gu’s started become unappealing around mile 50, so I really wasn’t enjoying taking that one now and it barely had much of an effect on me. We continued our march and Chris told me that we had now been out here in as long as it took me to run a marathon, and I didn’t even want to know how little we’ve traveled in that time (curiosity got the better of me though and I had to ask).
Both of us were in the groove of just continuing to move forward, no matter how slow we were going, when we stumbled upon the unmanned 613T aid station (mile 80.90). I had been expecting just water, so when I saw snacks, I got really excited and exclaimed, “Oh, thank God!” I had been craving Snickers at the Peter’s Mill Pond aid station back at mile 59.57, but they were all melted back there. I opened a candy bar now and nibbled while Chris was investigating the Keebler oatmeal raisin cookies. He was pleasantly surprised that they tasted pretty good, and I told him they’d had that at almost every aid station today and I must’ve eaten half a package of those by now. We were joking about Snickers satisfying hunger and it hit the spot so well, that I ate another and stuffed a few in my bag. The Snickers really perked me up and after we walked past the aid station, I felt pavement under my feet for the first time since I left the Elizabeth Furnace aid station with Chris. I was so ecstatic to be off the rocks that I turned to Chris and said, “Let’s run!” and he excitedly said, “Ok!” He was still lugging along my walking sticks, refusing to let them go, saying that he worked hard to find these good ones and that we’d need them again for the Veach Gap climb. He kept yelling at me for being concerned about him and told me this race was about me and right now I felt good and we were going to go with it. Perhaps it was the treacherously slow trek through Sherman’s Gap that helped my muscles rejuvenate, but my legs felt fresh again. I was actually running now! At a decent pace too! I passed 4 of the guys that had passed me earlier when we were climbing Sherman’s Gap. It was only when the road got really steep and I was breathing heavy again that I slowed down and said, “Ok take a break, let’s walk a little.” Chris said, “Thank God, you were wearing me out there, girl!” and I laughed because that boosted my confidence that I could wear someone out who had fresh legs coming into this section. I was awake and rejuvenated with energy now. Laughing and blabbering away. We ended up walking most of the rest of the way, since the road kept getting steeper and steeper, but we were both grateful to be climbing up on roads right now rather than rocks.
After about 1.89 miles of mostly climbing uphill on the paved roads, we made it to the Veach East aid station (mile 82.79). There was a campfire going and the guy there offered me chicken noodle soup, which I had to dilute with water to get it to a slurpable temperature. After the warm soup, we hopped back onto the trails and I ran for a little while the route was still mostly dirt, but it quickly turned rocky and steep and I was forced to slow down. We pulled the walking sticks back out, but this time, Chris and I held hands and each had a stick in our other hand. We marched on, our spirits a lot higher, our breaks a lot less frequent, and our motoring a lot more efficient than back at Sherman’s Gap. I was now confident that I had it in me to make it to the finish and I told Chris that I didn’t care about buckling, my gender placement, and all the other buzzing that had been going on at the crew stations. All I wanted was to finish, so I wouldn’t have to go through this again. We crested the top and began descending down the rocky path into the dark. It was darker on this side of the mountain, with the moon behind the trees and we could see our breaths. In fact, visibility became compromised because our breaths created a blinding fog in our headlamps (it made me think of my many early blinding runs through Centennial Park with the dense fog). Chris kept complaining about running into spider webs and I could feel them on my arm too, but didn’t do much about it. I tried not to look down at the ground too hard because every time I shined my light down at the rocks, I would see creepy, crawly spiders. The air got really frigid the more we descended, especially when we were alongside the river. We crossed several streams, where we used our walking sticks to help balance as we traversed across the rocks. I was very glad Chris had lugged those along because the terrain we were currently on didn’t have many branches to offer to use as walking sticks and I almost fell into the stream once and caught myself just in time to right myself back up thanks to the stick. Chris was telling me that he was scared and was glad I was there to keep him safe. Oh, the irony! I told him that HE was supposed to be MY safety runner, not the other way around and we laughed and kept our spirits up in an otherwise pretty crappy situation. He kept telling me he was afraid to look out into the woods for too long because he didn’t want to see a pair of eyes looking back at him. He had me laughing because it was really hard to tell whether he was being serious or not, but all I knew was that I chose the perfect safety runner and appreciated his company and entertainment so much along this stretch. When the trail started to flatten out and get less rocky, Chris suggested that I start running again to warm up, but I told him I was too cold and all I could do was cling to his arm for warmth. He let me hold on and we slowly made our way out to the Veach West aid station (mile 86.58) at 22 hours and 53 minutes into the race.
I thought that I would have a hard time leaving Chris behind after 12 miles, but I was honestly glad to part ways with him because it meant I only had a little over a half marathon to go. I was also feeling bad for how long I had him out there and was glad that he would finally be able to stop and rest because I could see how much Sherman’s Gap and Veach Gap had worn him out and he had mentioned that his plantar fasciitis was starting to bother him (little did I know that it was actually screaming at him!). We shuffled around the aid station looking for Karen, stopping by the bonfire for a quick warm up, when one of the volunteers told me, “I think she left this stuff out here for you.” We both looked over and saw my milk crate, blue bag, and shoes sitting out. Chris helped me change back into my road shoes (the back of my heels were slightly chafed from the low ankle socks), get a long sleeve shirt, gloves and handwarmers on (thought it was silly to bring those to a June race, but was so glad I did), and split a warm potato from the aid station with me. With nothing but dirt, gravel roads ahead for the rest of the race, I was now confident that I would indeed finish this race. I gave Chris a huge hug and thanked him for everything and then it was off into the darkness all by myself again.
Of course, the first thing I saw when I ran past Chris’s car was a set of eyes in the woods that belonged to a skunk. I was still in close enough proximity to other people to not be freaked out, but I thought to myself, “I’m going to kill Chris for putting those scary animal thoughts into my head!” The rest of the 4ish miles to the next aid station were pretty desolate and lonely. I think I only saw one other runner throughout that whole duration. At this moment, I was glad that I was out of contention for a buckle and didn’t have to kill myself trying to make a tight window of time, but I was also very glad that I gave myself a very comfortable cushion of time to easily come in under the 28 hour time limit. We were following some of the same roads from earlier in the race, but everything looked different in the dark. I had brought my flashlight with me, afraid that my headlamp might run out of batteries any minute because it had been on for 6 and a half hours straight already. I actually had to turn my flashlight on a couple times because I was in such total darkness. I reached some road intersections, where I couldn’t see any chem lights ahead until I was about a quarter mile down that path. Although I always chose the right path to take, I was slightly peeved by this because in my delusional, fatigued state, the last thing I needed was to worry that I was taking the wrong path and ending up lost. After I climbed up the same hill from mile 20 to get to the 770/758 aid station (mile 90.95), I complained to the volunteer about the lack of chem lights along this portion of the path. Chris and Karen were waiting for me at the top and they both seemed pretty out of it. I took some more chicken noodle soup and apple sauce that another runner had left on the table. They asked if I needed a hydration pack change and although I was nearly out, I told them I was too lazy to change it, especially since the cold weather was making me drink less frequently now. They told me just a couple more miles up and then hopefully, I’ll be able to run a little bit as I descend back down Woodstock Mountain. I bid them goodbye until mile 97 and ran back off into the darkness.
There was a lot of shuffling over the next 2 uphill miles. I tried to break out into a running pace, but my body couldn’t do much more than shuffle. I was nodding off again, but I just stayed focused on getting to the next aid station, where my descent would start. I finally came upon the Woodstock Gap aid station (mile 93.16) to find one kid sleeping next to a bonfire and two other kids half-asleep at the table. In their half-asleep stupor, they asked me for my bib # and offered me some refreshments. I took them up on some Coke and a banana and they told me the rest of the way should be mostly downhill, save for a few hills in town. I looked forward to the switchbacks but knew better than to take those kids’ words for “a few hills” because we had come out to the bottom of Woodstock Mountain the same way and I remembered the long hills that we descended, where I barely felt like I was running.
The switchbacks were not as fun as I was hoping they’d be. Everything hurt just as much going downhill as they did going up, so my hopes of being able to just “fall down the mountain effortlessly” turned into mostly walking/shuffling to get down those steep declines. It’s funny how everything came to full circle in this race. Ascending these switchbacks in the first few miles was where I was experiencing indigestion and feelings of having to poo and here I was again on the switchbacks experiencing those same problems for the first time since the beginning of the race. Desperate for anything to make me feel better, I said, “F it” and decided to…erm, use the woodsy facilities! =) I did feel lighter, although my running did not improve much. To complete the full circle, the sun was rising again and that was by far the trippiest experience of the race. Here I was, in the same exact position where the sun was rising 24 hours ago, and I haven’t stopped running/walking/shuffling in the time in between those two sunrises. I finally made it to the bottom of the switchbacks and across the beautiful bridge over the Shenandoah River. The sunlight was making it a lot easier to stay awake and push on. I clambered up those long rolling hills back into town, seeing two deer in the country fields. I kept hoping that every street intersection ahead would be Water St., only to be disappointed with another series of long hills ahead.
Finally, I saw cars and people at the next intersection and looked out specifically for Chris’s car to signal the Water St. aid station (mile 97.36). The crew cars had thinned out more and more as the race wore on (Chris and Karen were the only ones waiting at the last aid station besides the volunteers), but this time, I noticed there were a number of cars and a number of people standing around. I could easily pick out Chris and his car in the crowd, but it took me much closer inspection to realize who the others were. When they started waving and making noise for me, I realized that these people knew who I was and were cheering specifically for me. Suddenly, I saw their faces and was able to identify them as my cousins Vu and Melissa, my aunt and uncle, and my mom and dad. OMG!!! My family was here! They drove all the way out to VA to see me, not even realizing how much this race had meant to me. Through several years of running and hundreds of races, my family has never shown very much interest in my running at all and now here they were supporting me in the toughest feat I have ever tried to accomplish. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I started choking back tears. When I came within hearing distance, Chris smiled and said, “Look who’s here!” followed by an emotional “Aww” as he saw my reaction. I hugged my mom and my cousin, Melissa, as my other cousin, uncle, and dad stood behind and smiled proudly. Karen started going through the aid station routine, asking me if I needed anything, but I unstrapped my backpack and threw it down on the milk crate, saying, “No, I’m done!” My mom freaked out, saying, “What? You’re quitting?!” I quickly reassured her that I was not and was going to churn out these last few miles back to the fairgrounds. What I meant by saying, “I’m done” was that I was soooo ready to get this race over with and I was done with worrying about fuel intake, hydration, salt pills, etc. After being so diligent about constantly putting food and water in me all throughout the race, I could finally stop caring and just run freely back to the fairgrounds. My mom told me to go and that we’d catch up at the fairgrounds, so I bid farewell to my family, Chris, and Karen and took off.
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| Overwhelmed with emotion |
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| "OMG! What are you guys doing here?!" |
Still wiping away tears streaming down my face, I felt such a huge adrenaline rush that I found my running legs again and was moving at a 9-10 minute pace. I was in complete shock that not only could I move that quickly at this late of a point in the race, but I also felt so good with my strides light and swift. It was almost like I was just running a 5K on tired legs, like I did almost every weekend leading up to OD when I would get my long runs in on Friday and Saturday mornings and then go run some 5K after the Saturday long run warmup. See, I knew there was a method to my madness! I had taught my body to persevere on tired legs by constantly punishing soreness with more racing. Chris and Karen drove by with shocked looks on their faces and asked me if I remembered the way back. I smiled and nodded, reciting, “Water, Court, Commerce, Massanutten, Ox!” Good thing, I remembered the streets too because Court was not well-marked and I almost missed it! Then my cousins, aunt and uncle, and parents followed behind and rolled down the window and shouted, “Yeah, you can do it!”
I was so excited to get to this moment in the race that I wanted to keep up that pace and run the rest of the way in. It was only when I got to the last long, steep hill of the race that I started breathing hard and slowed down and thought, “Ok, maybe I should walk this hill.” Once I crested that hill, I could see the flat road ahead with the tall signs for the fast food places around our hotel. Then I saw the fences around the fairgrounds and thought, “This is it!” I turned into the fairgrounds at the OD sign and there was a little bit of confusion as to where to go to make my way around the horse track, since there were race officials around to direct the way. I saw the first place female that got pulled along with her crew and they cheered for me. Chris and my family then directed me where the last person went around the track and I did that last ½ mile loop around. As I came around the loop, my family held the ribbon up for me to cross. I put my hands up in triumph as I crossed the finish line.
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| Triumph! |
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| "You can stop now." |
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| The "official" race notepad |
The ending to such a huge feat was rather anti-climatic. Chris went, “You can stop now!” It felt like the running scene in Forrest Gump: "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now. And just like that, my runnin' days was over." The timer guy then came over to me and congratulated me, showing me the time he scribbled down on his notepad: 26:43:29. Katherine came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder and told me she just finished and was worrying about me. I told her Sherman’s Gap completely tore me apart and she told me how she was crawling through that section too. It made me feel better that we had run back and forth throughout the race and finished just 5 minutes apart of each other. I later learned that a woman named Meredith, who came into Elizabeth Furnace an hour and a half after us, won the women’s title. She just so happened to be the 30 year-old Annapolis woman that I had run with at the beginning. Katherine and I hugged and congratulated each other, as her family pulled up and she got in and drove away.
I talked to my family and found out that they had been at the fairgrounds since 1 AM and were now freezing and starving. Apparently, my cousins had been following me on Facebook all day and predicted my finish time to be around 1 AM based on my 50 mile split time. They were an hour and a half away at a party in VA and decided to come straight from the party to the Shenandoah Fairgrounds, convincing both their parents and my parents to come along and booking it there, afraid that they would miss me. My aunt had asked why they couldn’t just catch me next time, to which my cousin responded, “This is a big deal. There might not be another 100 miler!” I’m completely shocked to hear that because he is always knocking on my running craziness, yet he understood how much this feat meant to me. After arriving, they couldn’t get in touch with Chris and none of the race officials knew any information about me, so they just took turns drifting in and out of sleep, perking up every single time a headlamp came in, not wanting to miss me. They drove around the hotels looking for Chris’s car and then finally ventured out far enough to run into him at the mile 97 aid station.
They all wanted Cracker Barrel and I was starving too, since I stopped eating after mile 93. I ordered chocolate milk and woofed it down in 30 seconds to hold me over until my breakfast of pancake and eggs came. I bid farewell to my family after breakfast, as they made their way back home and I headed back to the hotel with Karen and Chris to clean up.
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| Feet before and after race |
Karen got a sufficient nap while Chris and I were trekking through those treacherous mountains, so she took off right away. Chris and I looked up the check-out time and saw we had until noon and since he had a massive headache from the lack of sleep over the past 36 hours, we decided to take a power nap before leaving. I cleaned up expecting for all sorts of areas to burn from chafing. Amazingly enough, the only thing that hurt was the scrapes on my hand from when I took a spill. The area that I thought were chafing was just the seams of my sports bra digging into my sides over an extended period of time. I dropped all sorts of toiletry items in the bathroom but didn’t bother to bend over to pick them up. After an hour of napping, Chris had to shake me awake and help me pack up my things and get me into the car. My stomach was burning with hunger, so I asked to him to stop at Arby’s to get me a roast beef sandwich. I tried to stay awake to keep Chris entertained, as I knew he was just as sleep deprived as I was, but couldn’t fight the heavy eyelids any longer and drifted into sleep. We were debating whether to show up to the HCS Weekly that afternoon (just to see my friends of course, no way I’d be running!), but after struggling to fight sleep just to get home, we decided rest was more important. I passed out for 5 hours when I got home and woke up with a burning feeling in my stomach dying of hunger. I cried thinking about having to make it down the stairs to get food and wished I had dragged my milk crate of crew snacks upstairs with me. Finally, I signed onto the interwebs (I had carried my phone with me in my backpack the entire time, but turned it off so the battery wouldn’t drain searching for signal) and was overwhelmed with the sheer amount of love and support I had received throughout the entire journey.
I have so many people to thank for getting me through this journey. Without a doubt, I cannot thank Chris Farmer and Karen Harvey enough for volunteering their time and energy and dedicating their entire weekend to crewing for me. Being able to constantly have ice water, preferred snacks (most notably chicken sandwich and French fries), and my own personal cheerleaders throughout the whole journey made the experience so much better. I really don’t know how I would’ve survived out there without them, especially through that horrendous 12 mile trek where Chris served as my safety runner. I am grateful for Dr. Antico for diagnosing my hip and IT band pain and fixing me up in no time, so I could get to the starting line of Old Dominion healthy. I am thankful for all the runners that provided me with company throughout training: Judith for that early snowy run, Tammy for all the Bagel Runs, Marsha for running that one extra mile in the freezing cold rain to help me get to 80 miles for the week, and especially Grace for meeting me at 5 AM to run 20 miles on Fridays. Of course, I have to thank Chris again for all the rides all over MD and surrounding states to do fun races and finding low key races to boost my confidence as a speedy runner. And I definitely cannot forget all the seasoned ultra-runners who provided me with sound advice, especially Karsten for all of his OD knowledge. Last but certainly not least, I am grateful for my family, for finally realizing my passion for running and not only acknowledging my accomplishments, but showing their pride and support in me.
Many people have asked me whether I would do another one. I cannot rule the possibility completely out, since I am only 25 and still (hopefully) have many decades of running ahead of me, but I cannot say I desire to go through that over and over again like some of the other ultra-runners that do multiple 100 milers. I was curious to see if I had the mental toughness to get through 100 miles and found a journey that truly captured the human spirit, proving that if you set your mind to something and are willing to see it through, you can accomplish anything. I didn’t mind training for the event; in fact, I enjoyed the heavy mileage because it allowed me to eat like a baby dinosaur and I saw my race times for almost every single distance improve significantly. However, the fact that I had to run through the night and through two sunrises and sacrifice a night’s worth of sleep took a huge toll on recovery. Even more, I had to recruit others to sacrifice their sleep, time, and energy to help me get to the finish line. Going into this event, I just wanted to finish so badly, so that I wouldn’t revisit this distance again. I am so glad my hard work and unwillingness to quit helped me pulled through, so that I don’t have to think about this race distance again in any immediate future. I think I’ll stick to 50 milers and below in the meantime.
