Grindstone 2015

I signed up for Grindstone (and the Beast Series) this year with a sort of calm confidence. Last year a lot went wrong, this year I knew some things. This year I would run smart, eat well, not sit down, and not sleep during the race. This year I would start slow, I would run my own pace, I would climb hard, and I would relax and recover on the downhills. This year my goal was to run 24 hours. This was my year.

TRAINING/INJURY

Last year after Grindstone I took it easy. For a long time I took it easy. I wasn't signed up for any of the other fall races, and I ran very little through the late fall/early winter. I crewed Alexis at MMTR and Hellgate, and barely ran enough to stay in shape. I knew that I wanted to run Grindstone again, and regretted not running the Beast that year. So I decided to run the Beast in 2015.

So I set myself to training for the Spring 50K's. My training went better than my racing all Spring as I couldn't quite get things to come together on race day the way they are supposed to. Flu at Holiday Lake, I drank half a bottle of DayQuil at the halfway point. Huge blow up at Terrapin, a gel every 20 minutes turns into projectile vomiting after 16 miles. And at Promise Land I just had an off day, feeling tired and heavy-legged from the start.

But I kept training hard. I was climbing better than I ever have in my life. And then a week and a half before Highland Sky I fell down on a weekday evening run. It had been a hard day at work and I was tired and heavy-legged from the start. As luck would have it, I landed just right on a pointy little stump sticking up at just the right angle to rip a three inch gash in my leg and leave a hole the size and shape of my thumb in my left quad just inches above my knee.

So I skipped and Highland Sky. And I didn't run for weeks. And all of that hard work and training just melted away. I got fat and slow and never was able to run again. Or that is how it felt at least.

The come back was hard on me. It was mid-summer and everyone I ran with was training consistently and putting in tons of miles. When I was able to run again, I couldn't run down a hill. Period. I would grind my way up hills at a miserable painful trudge, only to be rewarded with walking gingerly down the other side because of my feeble wrecked quad. I figured my Grindstone PR was about as likely as winning the race all together.

But it got better, slowly, and I put the work in. I was running three to four days a week, and getting about 50-60 miles in. When I could get in the mountains I tried to make it count. I would push myself to exhaustion on climbs, but the down-hilling was coming back slowly.

Iron Mountain came around, and I used it as a last good long run/measuring stick race. I ran well for the most part, but felt weak on a lot of the long climbs. I did however finish feeling like I could keep running, which was encouraging.

TAPER

As soon as it was time to start tapering the talk of another government shut-down began. I didn't let it bother me, I cut my running back to a bare minimum (7 miles the week before the race should have been). I focused on other things; work, kids, work, ignoring Alexis' talk of running. Then at the last minute we were shut down because of weather instead of the normal stupidity.

Again, I didn't let it get to me. For some reason I was confident that the race would happen the next week, and since I really didn't have a crew or pacers lined up I didn't have the logistical problems that others had to deal with. I was tired of tapering so I went for a couple of hard(ish) runs with Brenton Swyers during the extra taper week. Like me, he was tired of not running and fired up. Honestly the pace of these couple of runs worried me a little. I like to be very well rested on race day, and being old it takes me longer to recover from running fast.

RACE DAY (S)

Race day came and we all drove to Swoope. We set up camp, picked up packets and mingled with runners that we only see at races. We ate and we hydrated and we went to the race breifing, and then it was time to stick to the plan. Last year I had gotten so tired during the first night of Grindstone that I took a nap at an aid station. So as soon as the race briefing was over I retreated to my tent and laid down for almost three hours. I was able to get some good rest, even though it was only half-sleep. It was hot and Josh was SO loud in the next tent that it was impossible to get real quality sleep. (Some people.)

We lined up and smiled for pictures, and then it was time to run through the mountains for a hundred or so miles. The 6 PM start adds an interesting element to Grindstone, because even if you do manage to start the race well rested it gets dark right away and you have to run for 13 hours until the sun comes up. Almost immediately the Grindstone course bottlenecks runners at a narrow technical little creek crossing, so I jumped out kind of fast to get in front of the traffic jam, and then settled into my own pace as we ran through the camp towards the first aid station. I ran with Josh and Decker for a little bit, but Decker pulled away quick and I felt like I was working too hard to keep up with Josh so I let him go too.

The rain set in right away, just like last year but a little cooler, and it was dark before I made it to the first aid station. On the climb up to Elliot's Knob I realized that I was behind Shaun Pope and I was hanging with him pretty easily. Then he did one of the most impressive things I've ever seen: he ran every single step up to the top of Elliot's Knob. Every Step. I know because I hiked behind him the whole way.

We summitted and he dropped me quickly on the downhill. I saw Alexis and Kevin on their way up as I started the decent, right behind me as usual, starting slow only to build up speed the whole way. I ran the technical downhill on the back side of Elliot's like I was running a 10K. I'm not sure what happened up there, but I felt good and I was really enjoying the thrill of just barely maintaining control on the slippery wet rocks that shifted underfoot. I ran that entire four mile decent without seeing another runner.

Dry Branch Aid Station, mile 15 (ish). I ran into the aid station and there were a few runners leaving. Blake helped me fill my bottle and add my Tailwind mix, and he handed me a cup of broth as I was leaving but it was too hot to drink so I left without eating much. As I began the steep climb up Crawford I started to catch some of the runners who I had seen leaving. I passed Shaun, walking this time, and kept pace for a half a mile or so with Amy who ended up winning the women's race.

Up on top of Crawford I passed Josh who was eating, and Decker who seemed to be struggling a little, and then right before the downhill side I came up on Austin who said he had been puking. And then I hit the drop off of Crawford just like I did Elliot's. Full speed ahead, on the edge of out-of-control. The whole way down was like a ghost town, and I didn't see anyone else until I made it to Dowell's Draft aid station mile 22 (ish).

There were crew members lined up for a quarter of a mile leading up to the aid station, so I turned off my headlamp to keep from blinding everyone. Tyler and Erin who were crewing Alexis were  here with a bag of my gear. Tyler found me and helped me with my Tailwind switch and I grabbed some food for the climb and headed out. I had tried to keep it simple for Tyler and just threw all of my stuff in a bag and asked that he have it around when I come through. Having been in his shoes before, I knew he would have his hands full crewing Alexis.

I was still feeling really good, and ran so much of the climb up Hankey Mountain that I kind of surprised myself. Last year I had hit my first real low spot right here and sulked and dragged my feet up the four miles from Dowell's to the TWOT loop. I put my music in here and just dug in and ran some of the best climbing of my race.

After you get to the top of Hankey you get dumped out onto a service road that is slightly downhill for about three miles to the Lookout Mountain aid station. It was in this section that I realized that I wasn't eating much between aid stations, but I was sucking down 200 calories of Tailwind between each aid station. I still felt good, but I knew I had to be careful because if anything took me down at Grindstone this year it was going to be nutrition.

So when I rolled into Lookout Mountain I planned on eating as much as I could, and luckily AJW and Sophie had great food. "What are you doing here?!" I look up as I'm stuffing my face and Jeremy Ramsey is looking at me like my hair is on fire or something. "What?" I mumble through a mouthful of something hot and delicious. "You're in the top ten!" I tell him to shut up and and stagger out of there with a handful of food. Top Ten? That's probably not good. I felt good, but I knew I didn't have any business being up there. Trouble was coming, it was only a matter of time.

It is mostly downhill from Lookout to North River Gap. Mostly but not entirely, nothing is ever all downhill, especially at Grindstone. But I made good time through there, another rocky technical decent. I decided as I passed a guy who was picking his way gingerly through a particularly gnarly section that my only advantage out there was the murderous drops that everyone else seemed to be afraid to really get into. So I bombed what I could bomb and I climbed the best I could.

North River Gap, mile 36 or so. Sam Price's party central. I rolled into NRG feeling great still, and everyone asked me what I needed. There must have been 10 people there that I knew, it was great and a little overwhelming. I asked if they had seen Alexis' crew because they had my bag. Nope. Nobody had seen them. Panic. Don't Panic. My Tailwind had been carrying me so far and I knew that I wouldn't possibly see them again until the turn around if I missed them here. Eating at the aid stations was great, but my guts weren't letting me eat on the move, and drinking my calories had literally been saving my life.

"Do you have any calorie drink?" No. Nuun. Soda. Shit! And then Sam pulls off a crazy-watch-me-pull-a-rabbit-out-of-my-hat-magic-trick and comes up with a baggie of Tailwind from some guy who just happens to be dropping right at that moment. "You don't want to quit yet," I tell the guy, but I'm thinking "Thank you for dropping out buddy, you just saved my day." Chelsie mixes up my drink while Sam fills up a bag with more food that I can eat and they send me back into the wilderness.

Little Bald Knob. The seven mile climb. The soul-crusher. The bane of my race last year. Dig deep Todd, it's just a hill.

So I climb and I climb and I climb. Mixed in are a few short downs and a flat spot or two, but mostly it is up up and up to the top of Little Bald. Last year I fell asleep hiking up this hill. I sat down on a log to eat and fell asleep. I died climbing this mountain. But that was last year, and I wasn't ready to give up yet. I took a caffeine pill that Alexis had given me before the race and I turned my music back on. The Pixies, Dig for Fire. So I did. It's just a hill.

I ran what I could and hiked what I had to, and I got to the top and I was at the aid station over an hour quicker than the year before. Another aid station run by my Blue Ridge Trail Running family, this one captained by Shane Glass. I felt bad for these guys, up on top of an exposed ridge line, buried in a deep fog, and set up in a bog. But they were encouraging and helpful and had hot soup and community mugs.

It was good, like getting home from a rough day at work. I sat down and told Shane I was only there for three minutes. And then Steve or Dave brought me my drop bag and I grabbed some food and sipped some soup. "That's three minutes Todd," damn you Shane I don't want to get up. I was mad at Shane and thankful he kicked my butt out of that chair all in one emotion. I set off into a wall of fog.

Splash. The section from Little Bald aid station to Reddish Knob is all service road. Splash. With quite a few pot holes that all happened to be full of brown water. And the fog was so thick that I couldn't see more than six feet in front of me. The puddles came at me so fast and seemingly out of nowhere that it was all but impossible to dodge them. so I stopped trying and just ran through them.

This is a pretty short section, but it was so dark and lonely that I started to get tired. Just about that time a light appeared behind me. It was bright and getting brighter, and then there was a runner passing me. It was Josh Gilbert again. I tried to keep up with him, but he was moving pretty good. But at least having his light up ahead made it a little easier to see where I was headed. So I followed him the best I could to Reddish Knob where Jordan Chang and crew were hanging out in the fog making awesome pancakes.

We ran up the knob to the the punch and back down, and Josh dropped me heading to the turn around. The two miles of paved roads crushed my spirit. Not even the colorful graffiti that covered the pavement could keep my spirits up. I made it to the turn around aid station, and on the way back through Briery Branch I hooked up with Tyler and Jordan and snagged the rest of my Tailwind. I could tell they felt bad about missing me at NRG, but I told them not to worry about me, their job was to take care of Alexis.

There seemed to be so many runners coming and going at the turn around that I knew I would be dropping several positions quickly. My spirits where a little low here, but at least I had the rest of my fuel with me now. I struggled back to Jordan at Reddish Knob and grabbed another pancake which I tried to eat on the run but only got about half of it down before throwing the rest into the woods.

I passed Alexis, Kevin, Mike, and Brenton running together here. They looked like they were having fun and feeling good. I figured that I probably had an hour on them, but I was feeling rough and they looked good so I started thinking about when they would catch me and how long I would be able to run with them when they did. They told me that I was 12th or 13th, so I knew I had lost some ground at the turn around. I passed Elissa, Dennis, Anna, and Bethany before I got back to Shane at Little Bald. They all looked like they were feeling better than I was.

I lingered too long at the aid station, and then shuffled back up the slight incline to the top of the drop back down to NRG, my hip was hurting and my motivation was all but gone. The sun was finally starting to come up good, and about half a mile down the hill I turned off my headlamp and started to come back to life. It was as if the sun and the downhill were working together to bring me back from the dead. Of course, looking back on it, my resupply of Tailwind at the turnaround may have been a contributing factor. I had been steadily drinking calories for six or seven miles. By the time I got to the bottom of the hill I felt great (mentally) and I was hurting terribly (physically). My hip hurt whenever I hiked with any real effort, and my feet which had been wet for all but the first two miles were on fire inside my still wet shoes. And I caught up with Josh again, 30 yards from the aid station, and we tottered in together like heroes returning from the war.

I made a huge mistake at North River Gap(inbound), and it would hurt me bad later in the race. In addition to all of my great friends from BRTR, Tyler, Jordan and Erin where there to help me out. Josh wobbled over to his crew and sank into a chair to be pampered and I did the same. Everyone asked how I was and what I needed. "My hip hurts, my feet are shredded, and I need hot food." Tyler had DRY SHOES and SOCKS ready for me, but I refused (IDIOT!). "The damage is done, I don't want to waste the time."(MORON!) I ate like a champ, Joe Wilson and Jamie Swyers took care of my hydration needs while everyone else played Stuff The Food In The Runner.

I ate enough to climb Mt. Everest unsupported, and noticed Josh hitting the road with his pacer Chad. It was a good thing, because this pulled me out of my comfortable chair. "I'm coming sweetie!" I yelled to him and hobbled away from the comforts of home and back out into the wilderness to battle the mountains. We ran together for a little while, arguing about who was stronger and who should take the lead. Josh and Chad led up the first part of the climb and I started to bonk, which made no sense to me since I had just single-handedly eaten Thanksgiving Dinner at NRG.

So I sat down. On a rock. I took a deep breath and tried to assess the situation. Everything still hurt, so I clearly wasn't dead yet. I checked my watch and gave myself exactly three minutes to rest. I ate a package of Honey Stinger chews. I stood up and took another deep breath, and I started to climb. Hiking hurt, a lot. So I decided to fall back on one of the most basic tenets of ultra running: If it hurts to walk, and it hurts to run, then run. So I ran.

After about a half mile or so I caught up with Josh and Chad. Josh was eating red beans and rice. I'm not even kidding. Josh is awesome. Right out there in the middle of no-mans-land climbing and hurting he whips out a real meal and digs in. I, on the other side of the spectrum, had just eaten 200 calories of synthetic sugars. I pass them, still running on stupid. "See you in a little bit." And I climbed on up to Lookout Mountain.

Mile 70-something. AJW says: "You're looking good!" B.S. "You only have a 50K to go, anybody can run a 50K!" How is that for some screwed up Ultra Runner Logic. But you know what? It helped. I ate what I could and I left Lookout and headed up the long slow road to the top of Hankey Mountain. Running. Walking. Walking. Walking.

Come on man! Do you want to run 24 hours or not?!  Finally, my pacer had shown up. I ran (sort of) up the flatter part of the road. The only way to stop the hurt is to get to the end. Frank Gonzales' voice in my head was my pacer. He's more competitive than I am, and when we spotted other runners up ahead he pushed me on a little harder than I could have on my own. I made a pact with him, we would push as hard as we needed to go sub 24, but I wasn't concerned about top 10. I had to run my own pace, so I backed off and let those guys ahead of me disappear.

We caught up with them when the road turned back to trail. I was still killing the downhills, but my feet were getting worse. Phantom Frank said some harsh things to keep me moving on the flat stuff, but when we made the turn down to Dowell's Draft I was able to turn it up a little. I disappeared into my music, and Frank left me alone as long as I was moving good. That downhill seemed to go on forever, and I was thankful for it to be over by the time we got to the aid station.

Dowell's Draft aid station, mile 78-or so. I am still a little foggy on what exactly happened here. I was all worked up from running down for so long maybe, or perhaps the pain in my shoes that used to be feet was clouding my thoughts. But I left Dowell's without eating anything solid. 22 miles to go. Homestretch. But I think Tyler said mashed potatoes. I'm an idiot.

There is a steep little climb out of the aid station which doesn't really count as anything because you just go right down the other side before you have to really tackle Crawford Mountain. But this was Crawford from the runable side. This was the second to last climb of the entire course. This was time to celebrate and run. So I ran through the flat trail in the hollow in the shadow of Crawford, and I hit the climb with every intention of crushing it. And then the wheels fell off.

All four of them. Just right there in the trail. I stopped running and hiked. Then I stopped hiking and walked. Then I stopped walking and stood. Then I actually stopped standing and sat. A guy and his pacer came up out of nowhere and asked how I was. "Send a helicopter for me." They looked concerned. I smiled and lied and told them I was fine. I just needed to eat. I just needed to eat! How could I be so stupid. I took out some crackers and took a bite. Nope. I threw that in the woods for the squirrels.

What the heck? Get up you sissy! Thanks Frank. I popped some ibuprofen and ate the only gel of my entire race right there. I took a deep breath and put all the pain away. The pain I could get used to, the weakness I could fix. Calories! I stood. And then I moved. In a few minutes I had caught up the guy and his pacer. They were barely moving. I hiked behind them for a couple of minutes. The pacer was talkative, the runner was gone. Checked out. Frank made me pass them and I never saw them again.

Up, up, up and over Crawford. I think I passed someone else up there but it may or may not have really happened. There was a dump truck on the side of the trail, what it the world was a dump truck doing up a Crawford Mountain? Never mind it is just a pile of rocks. Down, down, down the other side. My downhill was really starting to suffer from my trashed feet.

Dry Branch aid station 87 miles done, 15 to go. There are real heroes in the mountains! Rebekah Trittipoe saved me. She gave me a chair and some tomato soup and hot fresh cheese quesadillas, while she mixed up my Tailwind and filled my hydration pack. She told me that it was four and a half miles up Elliot's Knob. I know, I know. But this is the last climb! 

I begrudgingly vacated my chair, and began the steep trudge up to the top of Elliot's. I hiked for a while with a guy who had gotten to the aid station after me, and was ready to go quickly. He seemed to be feeling good. He talked a lot. He was from Texas and had run the HURT 100 a few times. "You think this course is technical? This is nothing!" He was eating a gel, his 38th of the day. Wow, this guy was a machine. But then he was quiet and I looked back and he was gone.

The climb levels out a little about half way up. It goes from This Sucks Steep to You Could Run This On Fresh Legs. So I ran. I ran until it hurt, and then I kept running until it really hurt. And then I would pick a tree or a rock or random hallucination in the distance, and I would run to that point. I ran a lot. I think I even surprised Phantom Frank, who can be pretty mean when you are tired and broken down. He left me alone, and I pushed myself up the hill. And then the climb was over.

Running down Elliot's at mile 90 with mutilated feet was less than fun. I would run for a quarter of a mile or so, and then have to walk a few steps. The pain seemed to be unnaturally amplified out on the gravel road. When I finally got to the left turn at the bottom, I peeked at my watch. Holy S#*T! I was way ahead of my goal. I could walk it in from here and hit 24 hours!

Or you could suck-it-up and be a big boy, and RUN SUB 23! That's crazy Frank, do you think? I don't know, do you have it in you? Well, everything already hurts right. Lets go. The trail down to the aid station is mostly downhill, and we flew. I ran like I was running for fun on a Wednesday night with the crew. I was sweating and breathing hard. I did math to distract myself. The last five miles would take at least 75 minutes. I would check my watch at the aid station.

Falls Hollow, final aid station. Too many miles in. Five to go. The watch said I could do it. I was pumped up and tired. I was hurting and happy. I ran the last five in under an hour. I passed Jeremy Ramsey out running the course. "You're doing great. The next guy is right in front of you." Shut up Jeremy, I didn't want to race. I just wanted to run it in strong. Then I saw it.

I saw the guy's hat in a switchback up ahead. I caught him. He was walking through a creek and I flew past him. Technical was my friend. The gnarlier the trails the better. Then he was running with me. Then the trails turned to roads. Then he and his pacer were pushing my pace. Two miles to go and my side hurts. You don't run this hard at Grindstone you idiot! Then they picked it up and pulled away. One mile to go. Peek at the watch. Downshift. Eleven minutes later it's all over.

22 hours and 48 minutes. 6th place overall. Masters over all winner. (It's good to be old)

There is nothing quite like having a good race every now and then.

-Todd