"That Ghost is Just a Kid in a Sheet"

Thursday June 2, 2022

I was driving to Salem Tuesday to get an adjustment and I realized that since I had woken up that morning at 5 and going into the afternoon everything I was doing was part of the training process for States. And then I realized that much of my bedtime routine the night before was too. 

In 2013, I had the good fortune of getting into Western States with one ticket after my first Mountain Masochist (you used to be able to qualify with a 50 miler). I had a rough spring with injuries and uncertainties, I thought for a while about not even going to California, but I eventually started getting in some miles and bought tickets to Reno in May. It was to be my first hundred miler. But throughout the training and even into the race the goal was always to see how far you can make it, never based on time outside of finishing and never quite sure of myself. 

I remember being on the plane bound for the race and reading the quote about the man in the arena. I wanted to be the man in the arena, but did I? If I didn't really believe that I could?

Driving on Tuesday I thought about how different my training is right now than it was nine years ago for my first hundred. This time, I am not even worried about if, it's all based on how. 

I finished Western States in 2013, but not without regret. Lots of regret and a strong desire to go back and actually be the man in the arena, going in I had no belief but after I knew I could do better. Much of training in 2014-2016 was about getting stronger for States. But then I didn't get in one lotto year after another, by 2018 I wasn't sure I even cared about it anymore, at all. My mental health was on a downward trend. Then I got pregnant with our youngest child. Then I stopped running. 

I'm not sure I'll ever convey the darkness, the anger and sadness, the despondency of the next six months, I don't know that I need to. But suffice it to say I wasn't sure I was ever going to run again, I wasn't sure I cared about Western States at all. Somehow though, in the middle of the time off, I sent a paper application away for Laurel Highlands 70 Miler so I could qualify for States again, I would be roughly three months postpartum. 

I never wrote a race report for Laurel Highlands. I'm sad about that now. Now what is left is the memories that are strongest and were most impressionable. The 30 second recap of things I remember: Todd's encouragement to run that April 1st after six months of no running, Todd's encouragement to run day after day, the friends and family who trained with me, cared for me, crewed and paced me. Trying to quit on myself, being unable to.  I remember really wanting to qualify for States and believing that I would get in that December, wanting it, feeling like I needed it. 

Instead Laurel Highlands drained me further, who knew that a 70 mile race after such a long break could be so taxing? I ran little over the next few months. In December I was ready for the lottery but I didn't get in, that very same day, hours after the lottery, I registered for my next qualifier, World's End 100k.

Twenty Twenty was a tough year for anyone old enough to remember it. I began to run more in anticipation for World's End. I trained as well as I could and I had a great race that September just so thankful to be able to race. To qualify again. Three months later I ran Hellgate (2020) to qualify for the following year's lottery. All this time I was training enough to qualify but there were still pieces that seemed to be missing. 

Last spring and summer I took some time off of running. In the quiet space of too much time off I thought about Western States and how I didn't even know if going back fit me anymore. I started to think about running a different hundred miler. I started thinking about running less, maybe not even at all. 

I didn't write a race report for the Cove in 2021, but the 30 sec recap of strongest memories goes something like this: I had a flare up of IT, I took time off but wanted to run the Cove with my friends, I had a tough day, I seriously considered that I wasn't a trail runner anymore, then on a trail headed for the finish I had this overwhelming and beautiful experience that I've had a few times but hadn't had for a while (but has interestingly happened twice at the Cove) where I knew, I just knew I am a trail runner. I can't honestly explain it any better, just that I knew it was in me, I remember getting emotional from the entire experience, finishing invigorated to get in better shape and come back stronger. 

I kept qualifying, I knew eventually I would get back in, I knew I was a trail runner but I wasn't training like I believed those things. I guess maybe I was taking it all for granted. I guess maybe I was in denial. I don't know. 

I do know that when I got in this past December, when my name was finally spoken aloud at the drawing I was so excited, I jumped in. I didn't check the water temperature, I didn't check how deep the water was or if the suit even fit anymore, I just jumped due to anticipation and with great enthusiasm. 

We all know how much a belly flop hurts from the sound of the body hitting water. 

Almost immediately it was shin splints and knee pain. Thankfully this isn't my first time around. I did play it smarter than I have in the past. But the knee pain persisted. I was reminded that plans are helpful frameworks but seldom do the final papers look like the original outlines. 

I'm rambling and I know it. If you're still here I applaud you. You should sign up for an ultra, you have great persistence and it's possibly the biggest tell if you can make it to the finish line.

I needed help. I was convinced I needed a coach to help. But coaches, like running in general, are expensive, especially for people who have obsessions with shoes, running books and fancy watches. 

All the while we were assembling a crew to take to California, buying tickets in early March even! Bethany Williams being one of them, she shared with me a podcast on Addie Bracy's new book Mental Training for Ultrarunning and I both listened to the podcast and bought the book. But I got stumped when it came to my WHY? 

In early March, I convinced Todd I needed a coach, and not just any coach, but Coach Roche. Todd agreed. I was SO excited, I was like a kid on Christmas, I came straight home from our Monday hike and couldn't think beyond emailing him and getting the process started. I sent an explanatory email off late that same night. I woke to a response, he gets up early!

Unfortunately though, he was full. Boy should I have not taken that personally. But boy did I ever! I didn't even tell people about it at first I was so full of shame. Because if I was any runner with any kind of potential at all I would have a spot. It was crushing. I would have to go it alone. 

Except of course, I wouldn't. 

A few days later Todd forwarded me an email from Trail Runner, it was written by David Roche and it was about Western States.  "Give me your heart and soul and the contents of your stomach, and maybe if you're lucky I'll give you a belt buckle you'll never wear." when I read these words he'd penned about the Western States trail I felt all of those hurts come back to the surface, I wanted this person to coach me! 

Maybe he still could, I thought, there were plans on his SWAP website. Maybe he'd written a book. If not, someone should let this man write a book! Fortunately, they already have. I bought it from Amazon and devoured it in two days. After I was done I went back and read some parts again. Not a few months later, I will still revisit it, probably will for a time to come. 

With Bracy and Roche's books as an aid, I slowly began to break down my running. I was reflecting on why I first started running, on why I believe I keep running particularly through adversity, what I want to get out of my running. By the time I got to Promise Land in April I had a foundation to my why becoming established but more importantly I had this most valuable piece of advice, that having a clearly defined why isn't necessarily more important than being in the process of wondering why. 

Equipped with a growing support team, a pliable plan and a reinvigorated sense of purpose I moved into May a little more confident.

May wasn't without trial though. Knee pain is still here, the other got angry I suppose at the attention the other was getting, so now they both want attention. Left heel plantar is inflamed, there's a concerning knot on my Achilles, both the calves want breaks. I'm seeing the chiropractor, drinking the water, the protein, stretching, seeing a PT, reading, walking, giving self pep talks, reflecting, rebuilding, redesigning. 

This past Saturday I went and ran Tobacco Row in Amherst County. On the drive home I thought about my friends and how supportive they are about my upcoming run. I remembered how much I love the process. As the days tick down to States I'm worried about the usual, have I trained hard enough, smart enough, will I overcome, but I'm actually growing a little sad that the process is nearing an end. 

It's been a really long process. And where it started isn't where it headed, isn't were it's going now. In the years immediately following my first hundred, I trained, got faster, did a few more hundreds (OK, Grindstone twice), but then I lost the path. There was a while where I wasn't sure where I was, my path to States this year hasn't been easy, it never should have been of course, but it hasn't been hard in the way I was expecting, which is probably the problem to begin with. But I can say, in this moment anyways, that I haven't been as committed to running and the process than I am right now than maybe ever before. I may not be as fast or strong physically but there's something there that wasn't there before. 

I thought about where I was nine years ago at this time. I was so afraid, so uncertain of if I could go a hundred miles. This time around though I am not worried about not finishing, I know that it's possible, it's always possible you won't make it to the next sunrise. But this time I have a big time goal, I'm worried I won't make that goal, which is sub 24 hours, but I'm not as afraid.  Just how afraid can someone be of the dark if they go willingly out into the night?

I used to put all of my worth on a clock, sometimes I'll admit I still do. I used to want to be accepted so badly, I wanted to be agreeable and liked. I didn't mind losing myself, I didn't mind making other people's goals my own.  I still want to be liked and accepted but I've come to the slow and necessary realization that sometimes in spite of myself some people will still like me and others will not.  I just cannot say enough how aware and thankful I am for the time and support I have from my friends and family in this journey. 

Right now I am loving the process of training, I've missed a deep connection to a goal. I'm worried what comes after States more than I am worried about States because I am so grateful despite the aches and pains of where I am right now, like the Front Bottoms, "I like the time it takes to get somewhere".

If I had been accepted into States in a different year, the journey and the process would certainly have looked different. At the beginning of this year I was disappointed in myself and where I was, but now, after time and with help, I'm not disappointed anymore. This year's training block has reminded me of why I love running, the trail running community especially, and that I may be more tenacious than I give myself credit.

In these final weeks of training I want to do what I wished I had done in 2013, I want to soak up every minute I can of the process. I made a lot of mistakes back then, I have made a lot since then, I may make a few more, but the one mistake I don't want to repeat is not fully appreciating the process and the people in the moment.

OK, maybe skipping that sock change, I would not like to repeat that either. 

I'm wordy but I don't consider myself very good with words, so to borrow once more from someone else, what do I want, more than anything at WS?  I want to live up to Rilke's words;

"You, sent out beyond your recall,

Go to the limits of your longing.

Embody me.

Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you:

Beauty and terror.

Just keep going.

No feeling is final..."

Massanutten 100 Miler Race Report

 MMT 100

    The last thing I wanted was to have to run five hard miles down a dark gravel road at 3 O’clock in the morning. But there I was. Questioning my life choices. Regretting every second wasted at Aid Stations. Cursing my failing ankles and hoping that my tired legs could get the job done. Alexis, my beautiful wife and patient pacer, was doing a good job of keeping me worried. The clock was ticking. She was keeping me moving forward.

    My goal going into Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Mile Endurance Run was to run under 24 hours. Alexis finally got picked in the Western States lottery, and a few weeks into her training she developed a nagging IT issue which ended up completely changing the way she had to train, but that’s another story. Well kind of. I guess it’s really just the bigger story that this little story is a part of.

    Tim Spaulding texted me about two months before MMT and told me that he was signing up and that I should too. I did my best to ignore this. (I need better friends.) But I signed up anyway. I had always heard that MMT was a very rocky technical course, which sounded like it suited me. I told Alexis that if I could train for six weeks and go under 24 hours, then she should feel confident that she could do the same at Western States. So I was accomplishing two things at once, I was getting to do a race that was on my bucket list, and inspiring one of the most inspiring people I know. Sounded like a win-win at the time.

    So I signed up. I trained as best I could for about six weeks. I grabbed a handful of the best people I know, and I headed out to the unknown mountains of Massanutten for a race which I knew very little about. I had heard that it is a very rocky course. I had heard that it’s really not all that rocky. I had heard that it can be a pretty wet course. I had heard that it isn’t too bad except in Duncan Hollow. I had heard that it runs slower than a lot of 100’s with more climbing. I had heard so much that I had no idea what to expect. 

    I headed up Friday after a half day of work, with Alexis, our oldest daughter Bailey, and our good friend Scott Covey (who is going to run Hellgate this year). We met up with Tim and his crew at the race briefing and went back to Woodstock VA, where our fancy motel was, for dinner and an early bedtime. At 3:15 AM Alexis and Bailey drove Tim and I to the start of the race. The rest of the crews tried to sleep in. 

    The race started at 4 in the morning at Catherine’s Furnace Camp. From there we ran for 4 miles up the  gradual incline of a gravel road. I told Alexis to go back to the motel and try to sleep, and the plan was to not see my crew until 33 miles into the race. (I doubt she slept, she doesn’t like for me to tell her what to do.) At two miles into the run we ran through the first creek of the day. I didn’t know it at the time, but wet feet were the theme of the day.

    The first Aid Station, Moreland Gap Mile 4, was just a water stop. The group that Tim and I were with all ran by without stopping and entered the dark rocky trails of MMT. It was foggy and humid, and the trail quickly turned steep so we took to hiking pretty quickly. The rocks through here were big and slick, and after the sharp climb up Short Mountain we ran along a ridge trail for several miles. The ridge trail was tough going, between the damp mossy rocks, the fog and the short ups and downs it was impossible to get into any kind of running rhythm. This is where I took my only fall of the day, as I planted my foot on a table-sized off camber rock my legs just slid out from under me. I felt like I laid down gracefully, but the alarm in Tim’s “Are you OK?” made me feel like it looked worse than it was.  Coming off of Short Mountain the descent wasn’t terribly rocky and the sun came up so I could stow my headlamp away before reaching the next Aid Station.

    Edinburg Gap Mile 12.1, this was a crew accessible spot so there was a big crowd there, and hitting an aid station with a lot of noise always lifts me up. Things were still going great at this point, I ate a little and headed back out for the big climb up Waonaze Peak. This is a sizable climb, about 1000 feet in two miles, but is rewarded with the best section of ridge running on the whole course. From the top of the climb to the next aid station you get that 1000 feet back in descent over about 6.5 miles. Probably the easiest running of the day. (Maybe because of fresh legs, but hey that’s how I remember it.)

    Woodstock Tower Mile 20.3, this was another great Aid Station. There was no crew access, but after that super great run downhill to get there you can’t help but be in a good mood. The aid crew here (and at every aid station) was great. Sophie was here to offer advice and encouragement, and I took a bag of food and set out for the next section. I was doing pretty good at eating on the go so I don’t feel like I wasted much time at these early aid stations.

    This section was mostly rocky ridge running, but I made pretty good time. I had been running by myself for a while by this point and I didn’t see a single runner in this section. The steep downhill at the end of this section was very technical and it was hard to keep good footing to maintain any kind of real running pace. Between flowing water, mud, and loose rocks every step was somewhat uncertain. But at least it was downhill to the aid station.

    Powells Fort Mile 25.8, I probably should have spent a few minutes at this aid station, but I went through pretty fast because I knew that my crew would be at the next aid station in 7.5 miles. I think I just chugged a cup of coke and headed straight back out on the trail. I was still feeling good, and had been eating well, but mostly just the food I was carrying.

    This section had a fair amount of gravel road which I was still running pretty well, even though there was a lot of climbing. It was kind of a long section but some of the smoothest running so far, so I feel like I made good time and got to the aid station where I would first see my crew well ahead of my target pace. There was only one real climb in this section, and the downhills were actually somewhat runnable. I think there were about a dozen or so creek crossings on the way to Elizabeth Furnace so keeping feet dry was something I had given up on early and just plowed right through all the water.

    Elizabeth Furnace Mile 33.3, one third done. I popped out of the woods and my crew and Tim’s crew were set up and waiting for me before the aid station. It was already heating up so I asked for ice in my pack, I dumped all my trash, changed shoes and socks, restocked my pack with food and headed back out on the trail. I didn’t even stop at the actual aid station, but if it was anything like the rest then I am sure it was well run. Immediately leaving Elizabeth Furnace there is a long steep rocky climb. This climb is followed by its twin descent down to Shawl Gap. This section was less than five miles long, but it was basically straight up and back down, all rocky single track.

 And when someone talking about MMT says rocky single track, they aren’t talking about rocks laying around on the ground, or firmly embedded in the earth. No, MMT is a collection of trails so rocky that every single footfall must be thought out. Often there isn’t a gap between rocks big enough for your foot, or a rock big or flat enough to land a foot on at all. Sometimes the rocks are flat and slick, sometimes they are jagged and loose.  Most of the day you alternate between trying to bounce from rock to rock hoping that they don’t shift and roll, and wedging your feet between awkwardly positioned rocks, hoping that your feet don’t get twisted too sharply or wedged too tightly. My ankles took a beating over the duration of the race.

    Shawl Gap Mile 38, my crew was right on time with some mashed potatoes, cold Cherry Coke, and a refill on ice in my pack. The day was feeling a lot hotter than it actually was. I think the high temperature hit somewhere between 80 and 85 degrees, but the humidity was up to 2000% which made it feel worse. 

    I left Shawl Gap in good spirits, still ahead of my intended goal pace, and ran down the gravel road to the next aid station. This section is a little over three miles long and all on gravel roads. The first half is downhill to the lowest spot on the course, and then the second half is uphill. I tried to run as well as I could through here, but ended up hiking a lot of the climb to the aid station.

    Veach Gap Mile 41.1, this was definitely a place where knowing what lies before you could really help you make better decisions. The aid crew told me that there was a big climb out of the aid station and some ridge running and then down to the next aid station. They had great food, and I am sure that they had faith in me, but they did not emphasize enough how tough this section was going to feel. But I don’t know if anyone could have. I was still feeling good and running well when I got here. 

   

    The climb out of Veach Gap went from gradual to steep to hands on knees hiking pretty fast. It was about a two mile climb, and the trail wasn’t terrible until you got to the ridge. Somehow this little mountain range has the rockiest ridge lines in the entire state of Virginia. I came upon a runner on this ridge who was struggling. We commiserated briefly on how the big climbs in this race weren’t really rewarded with good downhill running. I ran behind him for a few minutes and he explained that he was having a shoe issue, and a quad issue, and a calf issue and stomach issues, so I passed him on a narrow trail where you had to hold on to trees to keep from falling off the cliff. I don’t know how he did, but I hope his day got less “quitty.”

    The descent down to Indian Grave Aid station was possibly the worst two miles of the race for me. The trail was a wide gully in places where there was either flowing water, ankle deep mud, softball-sized rocks that moved under your feet with every step or some twisted combination of the three. I felt like I was inventing an entirely new sport, the DownHill Mud-Rock Quadruple Vault. Basically you had to jump and jump and jump all the way down the hill, hoping that your foot would find somewhere to push off for the next immediate jump. There was no good way to control your speed, and no guarantee that you weren’t going to roll your ankle or get stuck in mud from one leap to the next. It could have been terribly exciting if there weren’t fifty more miles left to run.

    Indian Grave Mile 50.1, this is the only significant split I have from the race. I got here in 10 hours and 20 (ish) minutes. My watch died a quarter of a mile from the aid station. This was yet another great aid station, and they set me up with a bag of perogies for the road. The next section, the volunteer said, was about a four mile gravel road stretch all downhill to the next aid station. This was great to hear because I was starting to wear down. 

    It would have been even better if it had been true. I thought it was going to be a mostly downhill run, and my right ankle was banged up good from that crazy trail down to the aid station, so it was hard to keep a decent pace and I found myself taking too many walk breaks on this easy stretch of gravel road. And then the easy downhill road turned flat, and then uphill. What the FORK?

    Habron Gap Trailhead Mile 54, I was so happy to get to my crew at this aid station. Josh and Billy Ann had shown up at some point since my last crew encounter, so there were a lot of people there to talk to. I tried to put on a happy face for them, but my foot was feeling trashed. I still can’t remember a specific hit on that descent, but my ankle was already red and hot.

    I gave my dead watch to Bailey, prepared to run the rest of the race without a device, when she offered me her watch, I declined. I will be fine. I ate pretty good here and loaded up some food, but not enough. This was probably the last stop of the day where my stomach was still operating like it was supposed to. I had not eaten enough all day, even though I had convinced myself and my crew that I had been eating great. The course was hard, the humidity was like a silent assassin, making 82 degrees seem a lot hotter, and I was running at a pace that I call comfortably hard. These factors were working against me all day, and I was paying no attention to them at all, not yet anyway.

    The section of trail from Habron Gap to Camp Roosevelt aid station is about 10 miles long. It was the hottest part of the day. The first four miles were a brutally tough climb. I was just told that I was in 10th place. I had no watch to tell me how far I had traveled along this section. My ankle hurt. Things were about to get “quitty.”

    I climbed up from the aid station well. At Habron they told me that I was in tenth position, and I watched three runners come into the aid station as I was about to leave. I climbed well. My crew had put ice in my hydration pack so I had wonderful cold water to drink. The climb got hotter and hotter and I chugged water.  But still I climbed well. I didn’t see another runner on the whole climb, and I am embarrassed to admit that I did look back a time or two.

    When I got to the top of the climb I assumed that I had somewhere between six and eight miles left to go in this section (no watch, remember). The ridge running at the top of this section seemed to last forever, and to keep climbing all the while. 

      Somewhere up on this ridge is a place called Jack’s Notch, I don’t know Jack, but I can only assume he didn’t get much company up here. It was on par with all the other rocky ridge running of the day and was playing hell on my tattered ankle. The high afternoon sun was making me worry that I was going to run out of water. And when I finally started to descend I wished I had paid closer attention to the course description.

    Trying to do some math in my head as I made my way down the steep drop from Jack’s Notch I was figuring that I had probably run about six or seven miles of this section by now (remember no watch), but looking at the elevation profile as I sit and write this, I had in reality only run about five miles. The steep part of this descent lasted about two miles, but my paranoid mind was telling me all sorts of crazy things. I was almost there. I had a long way to go and was going to run out of water. I realized that I needed calories, your brain is your worst enemy when you are calorie depleted. Luckily I realized this before I started building a shelter in the woods to become a mountain man. Unluckily, I had neglected my gut all day and now it had turned against me. I took a bite, and chewed as I ran for a long time before I realized my stomach was not allowing me to swallow. I had to come to a complete stop to swallow a bite of PB&J that I had already chewed for five minutes. The next bite was worse, I couldn’t get it down without water. 

    I wanted to forget eating and just run to the next aid station, but I was paranoid that I had eight more miles left in this section, and if I didn’t get food in me I was done for. A runner passed me here as I was walking slowly trying to eat. I came to a creek and dunked my head in the water to try to cool down. This actually helped, and after a few minutes of putting water on my head I was able to eat the rest of my sandwich. Kneeling by this creek another runner passed me. “Good Job,” I said. He slashed muddy water all over me. GRRRR.

    It turned out that I was only about a mile from Camp Roosevelt when I stood up from that creek and started running again. It was a relatively easy mile too. Slightly downhill without terrible rocks. Sometimes I am the dumbest runner on the trail.

    Camp Roosevelt Mile 63.9, Pacer City! I am usually a “I don’t need a pacer” kind of guy. I actually told Alexis on the drive up to the race that if she wasn’t feeling like running that would be fine. But by the time I dragged my sorry butt into Camp Roosevelt I was very excited at the prospect of leaving there with some company for the rest of the night. She was ready to go, and as they were every time I saw them, my crew was ready for me. I have no idea what they did for the hours between seeing me, but they were always ready with everything I might possibly need as soon as I showed up.

    They filled me up with ice water and food. I can’t remember if I changed shoes and/or socks here. The dry feet imperative proved to be a waste of time on this course. I do believe that taking some time to clean my feet up between really sloppy sections, even though it felt like an empty ritual at the time, led to my feet surviving in relatively good shape at the end of the race. And before I left Bailey gave me my watch back, which she had charged somehow while I was out there freaking out about how far I had left to run. Definitely a successful crew stop.

    Armed with a pacer, a watch, ice water, and a much improved attitude I headed out into Duncan Hollow. Evidently this section of the course is shared with Old Dominion 100. This wasn’t the wettest section of the course, but it was wet. For about a mile we ran up a small stream that somehow has been mislabeled as a hiking trail. There was absolutely no way to keep out of the water and mud. I had Alexis with me, and for the first time since the beginning of the race I was running with a group of three other runners. This section sucked, and after a few minutes of chatting about where everyone was from, the group quieted and spread out a little. This trail was rocky, wet and muddy, so I mostly was looking where I was about to step and following Naji from North Carolina, when suddenly a guy behind us yelled that we missed a turn. Sure enough, there were four or five streamers marking the turn, but nothing on the ground and we were all just grinding it out. 

    From that turn we left Duncan Hollow and started the steep and (you guessed it) rocky climb up and over to the next aid station. This climb wasn’t very long, maybe a mile, but I just fell in with the guys in front of me until we went over the top and started downhill. This was a pretty mellow descent for the MMT course, we dropped about 800 feet over a mile and a half, not the worst footing in the world. I felt like I moved a lot better than I did on the section before. There was one big mud pit that I remember hitting and almost losing a shoe to the sticky muck that swallowed my leg almost up to my knee.

    Gap Creek One Mile 69.6, we made it to the aid well before dark. I had been worried before Alexis started running with me that I would be slowing down so badly that I would have needed a headlamp to get here. Just having her with me and talking, perhaps drowning out the voice in my head that was full of self-doubt, was enough to keep me on track and pull this thing back together. Another stellar crew performance and we were off to climb Kern’s Mountain, by reputation maybe the toughest section of the course. 

    The climb up was tough, but not too tough. It reminds me of the steep side of Flat Top mountain which I run often in training. In a little over a mile we reached the characteristic Massanutten ridge running that I had come to expect. As we raced against the settling darkness and fog I warned Alexis that the green moss on the rocks had traction but the white lichen had none and to avoid stepping on damp rocks. The fog thickened before it got dark and made headlamps  unhelpful. Looking at the elevation profile the Kern’s ridgeline looks really runnable, but it was slow going in the dark fog.

    Finally the rocky trail dumped us out onto a road and it was a long two miles down to the aid station. All things considered I was still running well at this point, but my sore ankle made me take a couple of short walk breaks even though it was all downhill. Alexis was good about keeping me on track.

    Visitor Center Mile 78.1, we had to wait for traffic to cross a real highway to get into this aid station, but my crew was ready and this aid station was great. They gave me the best grilled cheese sandwich I have ever had in my entire life. Probably the last solid food of my race, I told the crew to just give me some apple sauce packets from here on out. And between applesauce and coke I would make it the last 22 miles.

    I probably lingered too long at this aid station, which is my tendency, but this would be the last one. It was time to get this race done. I knew that even with Alexis keeping me from wallowing in self pity in the dark by myself, that I had been bleeding time for the last several hours. My downhill pace was not what it should have been. I had to try to refocus and forget about my stomach issues.

    From Visitor Center to Bird Knob aid station is only 3.5 miles (I think it’s actually longer) but it is all uphill. Steep, rocky, slow climbing uphill. It wasn’t the worst climb ever, or even the worst climb of the day up to the highest point of the course, but there was legitimate rock scrambling and bouldering in this section. But we got it done. 

    Bird Knob Mile 81.6, this was a quiet little aid station in the middle of the night. The guys here were super nice and encouraging, I drank some soda and headed off down the road. Alexis told me that they almost didn’t have this aid station this year, but the crew seemed to be happy to be there. 

    This next section is about six and a half miles, down and up and down and up, but no real hard climbing or terrible technical descents. All in all a pretty easy section to run. I had to work hard to keep up my pace, Alexis had planted the idea in my head that I was likely not going to hit my goal of sub-24 hours, so I had to dig deep and push a little more than my legs wanted to give on these runnable downhills.

    Picnic Area Mile 87.9, I don’t remember a lot about this aid station. By this point I was on a mission to just get done. I had heard a story about John Anderson taking a nap at Picnic Area in 2019, and although I could have easily slept, I just wanted to get this race done.

    When you leave the Picnic Area aid station your crew can drive around the block and see you at a road crossing about a mile and a half up the trail, so they did. I took one last drink of coke and we crossed the road to start the last climb of the race. This final climb is everything that I would expect from a course as hard as MMT 100. It starts out on a double track gentle climb, I actually tried to run parts of this section. After a mile or so it turns into steep single track climbing peppered with the occasional rock scramble. Towards the top the trail levels out and even goes down for a few yards to trick you into thinking the climb was over, after about five of these psych-out false summits I was ready to just sit down and start crying.

    But there was a top. An end to climbing. And on the other side was some steep rocky downhill that my feet hated me for making them run. I felt like the downhill was going as slow as the climb, but I was worried that I was going too slow and I knew I would be disappointed in myself for coming so close to my goal and not trying as hard as I could. Finally the trail spilled us out onto a gravel road, the road to the finish. But my mind wouldn’t accept that fact until we got to the last aid station.

    Gap Creek Two Mile 96.8, four miles to go! I almost dropped my pack with my crew, but I didn’t even stop at this aid station. I was super happy to be here with almost an hour left to reach my goal. This was the first time since mile 80 that I believed I was going to run sub-24. 

    The next three miles were mostly flat (ish) gravel road and I was able to push pretty hard to maintain a decent pace. It was excruciating to be running so much on my beat up ankles and feet. Alexis was great at encouraging me to keep pushing even though I basically had my goal in the bag. Then the course veered into a brand new trail, used this year for the first time, to cross the last three-quarter mile to the finish line at Caroline Furnace Camp. 

    This trail sucked! I had it in my head that the rest of the race was on this gravel road, and I had resigned myself to the steady achy grind to get it done. Then this trail pops up, and has me zig-zagging through tight trees and creek crossing after creek crossing. (seriously, I think there were ten creek crossings in three-quarters of a mile) My headlamp, to add stress to the situation, gives me the warning flash and fades down to low power mode, so I have to run the last half mile with a light about half as bright as a candle.

    Finally I am at the finish line, and the race director is there cheering me in. 23:43, mission accomplished. I collapse into a char that my crew has waiting for me, and the adventure is over.

Final Thoughts and Takeaways

    It was a hard day on a hard course. My crew was incredible and I have already decided to take them with me the next time I run a 100, as long as they are willing to come along. It's a lot of work to crew someone at an ultra.

    Pacers - With the exception of BigFoot 200 this was my first time with a pacer. I have run with other runners for long distances at races but mostly just felt like I was a guy who didn’t need, want, or would respond well to pacing help. It turns out that a pacer’s most important job is to keep you cognizant of your goals. For me it is too easy to compromise away my goals out on the trail when I get tired and slip into a dark place. Alexis kept me focused on what I had come to MMT 100 to do, and I found it a little easier to push through my own stubbornness to get the job done because she kept reminding me that I could do it. 

    Training can’t be faked. I trained about half as much as I would have liked to for this race. And once you get to the start line you can’t change the last three or four months. If you have a goal then you have to work hard to prepare for it. Every Ultramarathon is going to be hard. There will be times when you don’t think you can do it. But if you put in the work before the race, your suffering will be lessened. If in no other way, you won’t be left wondering what could have been. You can finish the race and know that you did your best. In this sport there is a long list of things we can’t control, things like weather, course conditions, other runners. Don’t show up to a race with regrets about what you didn’t do to get ready. 

My First Ever Promise Land

 

My First Ever Promise Land 50k

    My dad, Todd Thomas, has run the Cornelius Creek aid station for several years. My whole family had gone with  him for several years. Such was the case with the 2021 Promise Land. I went with my parents, three brothers, and younger sister to camp the night before the race. We woke up at 6 or 6:30 to set up the aid station. The fastest runners normally get to Cornelius Creek for the first time between 7:30 and 8 in the morning. Along with a bunch of other volunteers we set up the aid station and waited for the runners to start coming in. 

    At Cornelius Creek the runners get to the aid station 17 miles into the race, go run a nine mile loop, and then come back to the aid station a second time. Some of the fastest runners can do those nine miles in about an hour. Because of this there is a period of time when the runners are coming in from both sides. It's a very busy aid station, but it's also very enjoyable. My parents know a lot of the local runners, so every few minutes someone they knew would come in. 

    After all the runners had come through Cornelius Creek the second time, about 26 miles into the race, we packed up the aid station and headed to the finish. I decided that I wanted to run Promise Land the following year. Because why not, right?

    In September of 2021 I ran my first ultra. The Iron Mountain 30 miler in Damascus, Virginia. It was hard, but my dad informed me that Promise Land would be a lot harder. 
    In early 2022 I started doing a little bit of training for Promise Land. I ran the Holiday Lake 25k in February.  After that I didn't really run much for three weeks because a week after that we took a two week trip to Disney World. After we returned from that I knew that I definitely needed to start training. 

    My parents took me to both of the Promise Land training runs. On those my mom ran with me. After the training runs I was still really nervous for the actual race. My mom was also running the race, though my dad was running the Cornelius Creek aid station again. My mom and I were going to sleep in our car at the Promise Land camp. 

    My mom and I got to the camp at about 6 the night before the race. Every runner had to bring a dessert, but we just brought a box of cookies. There was also pizza. The race briefing was at 7:30 so before that I just followed my mom around while she talked to all the people she knew. 

    Horton, the race director, started the race briefing at 7:15. I had never been to one of his race briefings before, except for Hellgate 2021 when my mom was running and we didn't get there until the race briefing was practically over. So I wasn't sure what to expect. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't what happened.

    He started out by making a bunch of people stand up. People like Rachel Spaulding, who was seeded to win for women, or Jordan Chang who was going to run a double Promise Land. After that he talked about the course and the aid stations. He REALLY liked to say "I don't know". He talked about the heat and how the runners should make sure to hydrate, and to cool off in the springs if needed. He started asking my mom about the stuff my dad would have at his aid station, like popsicles and ice cream sandwiches. And then he did the unthinkable.

    He made ME stand up in front of a crowd of people, something I don't really like to do. He made me answer a bunch of questions. He asked me how old I was. I said I was fourteen. He asked me if I'd ever run an ultra before. I told him that I had run the Iron Mountain 30 in September. "Okay." He said. "So this will be your first REAL ultra."

    Because that's not daunting at all. 

    After the race briefing somebody started a HUGE fire. I stayed with my mom a little while, but I ended up going to the car a little before nine. I didn't fall asleep until about 10 though. The next morning we woke up super early, but not bright and early. We woke up at 4:45 and started eating and packing and such. We had to check-in again race morning, so we walked over to do that. 

    The race started at 5:30 and it also started with a three mile hike. My mom and I had already decided to do that section together. So we ran about the first mile and then hiked the next about one and a half miles together. At the top of the climb was the first aid station so I stopped to fill up my water bottle and she kept going. I didn't catch up with her for the whole rest of the race. 

    The next section was about six miles long. It started out with some rolling hills. I was drinking water, but I didn't start eating anything until about a mile left in that section. I ran by myself for the first few miles, but at about mile six a college student named Sophia caught up with me. 

    She told me that she had been running with some of her friends, who had been at the Promise Land training runs and told her about me. She said it was her first ultra, but she was on the track and cross country team at Liberty. She asked if I'd ever done cross country or track. I told her that I'd been on the homeschoolers cross country team, the Pacers, for one season in 2019. To my surprise she had been on the Pacers too, but not at the same time that I had been. 

    So I ran with her for the next couple miles. After a mile or two her friends from the training run caught up with us. They were two college students that I recognized from the training runs. One of them introduced himself as Ryan and I never got the other ones name. They said that I had been ahead of them at both of the training runs. Well that stressed me out a little bit, because if I had been ahead of them at the training runs, why wasn't I ahead of them now?

    At about mile nine or nine and a half was the second aid station, run by Jordan Cooter. Everyone at that aid station was very friendly. I just refilled my water bottle and then I headed back out. I was still running with Sophia. 

    We had to run about two miles up and then two miles down before the next aid station, Sunset Fields. During the uphill section Sophia got in front of me, and was in front of me for the rest of the day. I was still running with her two friends. While we were running/hiking up that section Helen MacDermott caught up with us. She was really nice. She said that she designed the shirts for Promise Land, which is really cool. 

    When we got to the top of that hill it was mile eleven and we were at the highest point in the race. The next section was two miles downhill, and Helen, Ryan and the other college student all passed me. Running downhill is not exactly my strong suit. At the end of that downhill we got to the Sunset Fields aid station. The people there were very nice but I didn't stay at the aid station very long. I just refilled my water bottle and kept going. 

    The next section was about four and a half miles mostly downhill to Cornelius Creek. I ran that section okay but not great. I passed the guy named Ryan that I met earlier. He was sitting on the side of the trail, having some sort of foot pain.

    I got my feet wet passing through one of the creeks. It felt really good but then my feet bothered me for the rest of the day. 

    After the creeks we were practically to the aid station. I'm not sure what time I got to Cornelius Creek, but it was over three and a half hours. When I got to the aid station my dad gave me some Cherry Coke and some Oreos. I stayed at that aid station for a minute or two, refilled my bottle and stuff and then set out for the nine mile loop. 

    I was given two Oreos but I'm pretty sure that one of them got thrown at the road. The next two miles were on a gravel road, a little bit downhill. Ryan passed me like a half a mile out of the aid station. I had to stop and loosen one of my shoes because my right foot was starting to hurt. 

    After those two miles it was about a mile, maybe a little more, to Blake's aid station, Colon's Hollow. His aid station was so quiet you didn't notice it until you were right up on it.

    Once I got there I refilled my water bottle and took some pickles. Mike Mitchell offered me a popsicle but I didn't take it. At that point I was about twenty miles in. The next section was six miles long and it was rolling hills until we got back to Cornelius Creek for the second time. I didn't really like that section.

    Before the race started a couple different people had told me that the race really gets hard after you go through Colon's Hollow. I didn't really know what they meant until I got to that point in the race. I tried to run some of the hills, but I ended up walking like eighty percent of the uphill. I just hiked mostly. When I got to the swampy section right before the creek crossing I was super excited. 

    When I got to the actual creek crossing itself my dad and Cooper were there. My dad went with me back to the aid station. I got my water bottle filled and got a bag of gummy bears and Swedish fish for the hike up the falls. My dad offered to run with me for the last eight miles, and I took him up on his offer. 

    We started up the falls. My Dad wanted me to pass ten people on the climb, but I wasn't sure about that. Right off the bat we got passed by a college student named Kevin Kreh. My dad told me to eat, and I did. 

    But only the Swedish fish. 

    It felt like we hiked almost a mile before we passed anyone. But after we passed one person we started passing people far more frequently. About a mile from the top things got a lot harder for me, which was mainly because of those stupid stairs.

    Which by the way I'm pretty sure there are 187 of, but I forgot to ask Horton so I don't know. 

    But the last mile up the falls was the worst. I just trudged up the hill until we got to Sunset Fields. And I actually ended up passing nine people on the climb, including one of the college students I had been running with earlier.

    Close enough. 

    After that it was a five mile downhill to the finish. It wasn't exactly fun. the first two and a half are on trails, with one little hill. Except for it felt like a huge hill so I walked it. I did pretty good on that  downhill section. Well I feel like I did, and that's what counts. I passed Helen MacDermott on that section. 

    When we got to the end of the trail part we had to do the two and a half mile uphill we started on, but this time downhill. I started running really fast down that hill, letting gravity do most of the work. I ended up passing Ryan not far into that section. 

    I ran as fast I could for the first mile and a half of that section, but then I slowed down, for two reasons. 

    #1 being that I had been telling myself since the top of the hill that I was almost to the one mile to go, almost to one mile to go. It didn't hit me until I got there that that meant I still had an entire MILE left. 

    #2 being that the road started to flatten out around that point.

    So while I felt like I was pushing harder, I definitely slowed down on that mile. After I trudged through that last mile I finally got to the Promise Land Camp. I started running faster, pushing down that last one hundred feet until I crossed the finish line. 

    My time was 7:37:43. I was happy with that, and you know happy to be done. I was officially the youngest finisher of Promise Land 50k. And also really tired. 

-Bailey 

Promise Land 50K 2022

 Promise Land 50k+

Saturday, April 23, 2022

The Background (aka The State of All Things)

If you're reading this there's a good chance you know me personally and thus are aware that I am going to California in a few short weeks to run the Western States Endurance Run. I was lucky enough in 2013 to be able to run Western States as my first hundred. It was a great experience but I felt it could have gone much better. I have been attempting for years to get back into States and for most of the early years of qualifying I was staying in decent shape and holding on to the goal of a better 100 miler there than my previous attempt. However, life and other things these past few years has caused me to stray from my purpose. Even though I was still on the path I wasn't really thinking about where the path would take me. And in all honesty, I have thought hard several times over the past two or three years about abandoning the path. 

But I stayed the course, qualified, entered. And finally, my name was drawn. I was (and am!) going back to Western States. I set out immediately to remedy my perceived lack of fitness, running more in January of 2022 than many a previous January. However, I probably wasn't as smart and well rounded as I thought I was being at the time and one small whispering pain turned into bigger, nagging pains. To say I am disappointed in the way training has gone as the days have ticked down is a heavy understatement to how I felt through most of February. With a persistent knee pain I dropped down to the 25k at Holiday Lake in February and had to ultimately back out completely from Terrapin. 

If you know me, you know that I suffer from heavy amounts of self doubt, self worth, self confidence, etc. My "self' needs a lot of work simply put. Having this nagging injury was causing many of these mental issues to flare up as well. I have a few blog posts I may never write but detail the demons that came haunting in late January and February. 

Finally, in mid March I gave the equivalent to the suck it up speech to myself.  Stop focusing on what is not and focus on what you can do! So what did I do. I shifted to things I could do. I couldn't really run, but I could walk. So I walked a lot. A lot, a lot. I biked (like Robbie advised!) I read. I started doing more functional strength exercises. Did I do all of the things? Nope. Not even close. But I am ok with being a work in progress as long as there is progress. Most importantly perhaps was that this whole time I was working on my why. 

In 2017, I had a really bad Holiday Lake. In many ways my running hasn't really been right since (and  even before). I have struggled with why a lot. A question I can't answer. I, a person of great curiosity, haven't handled being unable to answer the question. Not being able to answer the question has made me ask more questions, including is this sport really still for me? I have, thankfully, had small experiences that have kept me searching, not willing to give up just yet. But still struggling to answer a question only I can answer, what is your why?

In the beginning of running and running ultras the answer was "Could I run? Could I run 1, 5, 25, 50, 100 miles". But those have been answered, and over time chasing others and myself for a time was often not enough. It all came to a head in 2017 and has been hanging over my head and my heart for years. 

This season has not been my best, I dropped down and out of races, my paces and times are not what I once felt they should be. I won't lie, I want to be faster, always, but that hasn't been enough to carry me lately. What happens when the times just start getting slower? What happens after injury and a few years focusing on something other than the day to day training? Why do you keep showing up when you originally only caught the running bug to beat a time on a clock?  I knew these were locked away in the why but I needed to dig deep enough to articulate it, understand it, and then, run with it. 

Recently, I've been waking up early, not to run, but to steal some time away in the quiet before my children are awake, to read. Books on running by running coaches, books on grit, books on enduring and hope. Books that laid down how to break down your why. Again, several posts could come from the books I've been reading and the knowledge I've felt I've been gaining. It's caused me to reflect and look back but not on how I was once "better" and "faster" at races and runs but how did I feel before I was a runner and how did first running make me feel?

In 2009 I was just a chubby new mother who felt fairly alone, full of so many fears, with no real friends (other than Todd) who really hated herself and feared that soon so would her husband. When I thought about why I ran, it was because of Todd. Again, there's a whole sappy heartbreaking post I could write about how I started to run for Todd. Not because he asked me to, but because I wanted to do something with him and he had just started adventure racing, and because I was worried that if I didn't start taking care of me I would be less desirable to him. I know that sounds like a weak minded thought, but I was so very weak minded. Regardless, I started to run because I wanted to do something with Todd (adventure racing). To get in shape for the adventure racing I started to walk and then run. 

At the time running made me feel incredible, it made me feel more powerful and amazed by my body than I ever had. But over time, the feeling faded, doubt moved back in. Injuries came. Fears resettled. I was no one special. I just had to accept that. 

But in trying to accept that I was nothing important or special I turned the lights out on myself. 

Finding my why as of late has become like turning the lights back on. 

And, I believe, it's helping. I still need work on the actual running part, but I felt the purpose needed to be clearly defined so that a better drive for training could be unleashed. 

Because the knee and the running are not particularly on par with what they probably should be for a "race" I was unsure whether or not to register, this is the first time the defined why came into use. Does signing up for Promise Land align with my why? 

It all came down to the part of my why pertaining to what the running community means to me and what I want to mean to it. So at the beginning of the week of Promise Land I committed by finally registering. 

The Race 

Last year, our daughter Bailey told us that she wanted to run Promise Land in 2022. Our son, Cooper, made similar claims about Grindstone so I didn't think much of it until the beginning of the calendar year when she asked me if I would help her train. Todd made her a plan but I would help her stick to it by being a companion and accountability partner, something I endear having as well.  We ran the two official Promise Land training runs together and have talked about race nerves, strategy, tips and plans for weeks. This past week I even went back and read her Holiday Lake 2021 race report and it added a little inspiration to my own race this weekend. Sharing this weekend with Bailey, going to the pre-race festivities Friday evening with her, camping, cheering her in, cheering others in with her, was such a treasured gift. I can say I did not talk her into running Promise Land but it's hard to believe we had no influence over the choice. Either way, it was a pleasure to spend the weekend with her. I look forward to more races and weekends like this in the future. 

Between my newly polished why, my realistic race goals and Bailey's first Promise Land there was a lot to look forward to at Promise Land even if the weather was supposed to be hot, and honestly, I was hoping it got hot (I could use a little heat training between now and Western States). What were my goals for Promise Land?

1. To practice running and eating for Western States, long runs of up to 4 hours are just not cutting it to test this. So to practice with an emphasis on trying new things such as gummies and candy as potential fuel.

2. Keep my heart rate average below 150 bpm. 

3. Run sub 7 hours. 

A lesser defined goal was to enjoy the course and the people. In an ultra you travel a set distance but you can travel from one group to another meeting and reconnecting with people. In many ways its the friendliness and the connectivity I love about ultra running in particular over road running. It's nearly impossible to go out and run with 300 people over 30+ miles and not make new friends. 

Out there yesterday I loved this the most, from running over 28 miles with Robbie and talking about all things from macros to vacations, to meeting new people like Travis.

Promise Land is hard. At least I think it is, it's a little over 34 miles of steep up, rocky descents and it falls just as the weather is warming up but hasn't given anyone really the chance to get used to it. There are two sections of rolling terrain but one of them comes after 20 miles as the day has begun to significantly warm up at least if you're where I tend to be at this point. It can make enjoying the course a little more difficult. I aimed to relish in all the highs and lows. 

I wasn't really nervous Friday or Saturday morning, if anything made me nervous it was Bailey and questioning whether or not to run with her. However, we had talked about it a great deal and had decided we would start and do the first climb together but after that just run our own races. I was still a little nervous about letting her go out 'alone' for 34 miles. I trusted that the trail community would help her, she knew people at almost every aid station so I knew they would help her and relay word if something was amiss. 

I overpacked my pack with stuff I would be trying out over the day, my phone and headphone case for music and some tailwind. Spoiler alert, I had too much crap. It's not really a big deal, I'm used to weighing down the pack for a training run but I didn't need most of it. I didn't use the phone or headphones and I still didn't eat well enough between aid stations to warrant all that I brought. 

I carried a water bottle because I think they are easier to fill at aid stations and easier to ascertain how much you're drinking. Funny side note, Robbie pointed out that he could tell when I got serious about running a section, I carry it like a football if I'm working and hold it pointed down (less worried about a fumble maybe?) when I am taking it easier. I'm glad I went with the bottle even though I hate carrying it. 

I didn't bother with a headlamp. I'm not fast enough to worry that there won't be enough light by the time I hit the trail. I'm glad I went with this plan as well. 

Bailey and I started at 5:30 am together along with our friend Scott Covey. We started a bit further back that I probably usually would but I knew that with my race plans I didn't need to be closer to the "start line".  I love the way Horton begins his races. It feels a little more intimate than most ultras and definitely more so than road races. 

We ran a little further than we did on the training run, maybe just past a mile, but probably a little easier than we did on the training run. We got to see Beth Hart and catch up to Robbie Shull. I love these bits of the ultra races, getting to run and see people you don't often get to because of schedules or life in general. I saw Amanda who I had met at a training run, she was hiking and I told her I was proud of her because we had talked about running vs. walking this hill at the training run, I had told her to not stress this hill and it was a silly but happy moment when I saw her taking what I assumed to be my advice. 

The road climb was tough per usual, that last mile being hard on the calves as they've not warmed up yet for the day. But overall it went fast enough and the sun had stated to rise as we got to aid one and made the transition from the gravel road to the first trail section of the day. 

I guess I lost Bailey here. She stopped to get water from Blake and I kept moving. The aid stations at Promise Land are decently spaced but they are a little more spread out at Western so I tried to really only hit every other one especially in the first half on Saturday. I tried to get running as soon as we hit the trail but it took a good mile for the calves to get with the program after the initial climb. I aimed for  a steady effort and made a point to hold a conversational effort. 

I wanted to run smart, steady with a moderate effort, and not get my heart rate too elevated which I worried could be a problem in the heat. I believe I did a good job at this goal. I never felt like I was pushing until the final descent when I knew I wasn't going to make 7 hours but decided I would push past my heart rate governor just in case I could. Spoiler alert, #2, I couldn't/didn't. I planned to run easy moderate until Colon Hollow and then up it from there if I felt good enough. 

Scott, Robbie and I were still running near each other here and we started to pass small groups through here though Scott did a more efficient job of it. We caught up with Sophie and then Jen Lully as we made it to the aptly named "grassy road" section. Shortly after we caught up with Crystal Molnar. I felt mentally great about this, I felt good about my effort. I think Jen, Sophie, Crystal, Robbie and Scott are all great runners. I pondered briefly trying to run faster/harder but thought about how happy I would be to finish among these runners, that if my knee could hold up and I could finish with this group that would be a great win for the day. 

The grassy road was a good time, I kind of like it, the sun was coming up and the running felt good. The knee wasn't really unhappy which was probably the best part. At one point I was talking to Robbie and Jen and I just thought if this could just hold up all day I will be thrilled! 

At aid two we got to see friendly faces and I got some water to mix tailwind with but other wise ran on. Robbie joked that I raced through the aid station but really I just wanted to spend the bulk of my aid station time used at Cornelius Creek because I knew what to expect. I got water here and up the hike in the WOR loop I mixed bottle two of Tailwind. At this point Scott and Sophie had run on, they were climbing much better on this loop and I settled in with Robbie and Jen who seemed to be going a pace I liked much better. 

Through this climb on the WOR loop and the gravel road I enjoyed talking with Robbie and Jen, we talked about protein and recovery and training. I feel like they gave me great insight to managing recovery and I loved feeling like there was still so much I could learn and that they were open to sharing their approaches. It felt like a regular old training run and I was happy about this. 

However, I will admit coming into Sunset Fields I looked at my watch and I was about 20 minutes behind where I usually come in at Sunset the first time and I immediately played the what if game. I ran on through the aid station not even stopping to say hello to Marc ;) because I was over thinking the time it took to get here. But on the next section, which isn't usually my forte, I reminded myself of the days goals and realized it was actually a really good day. I was enjoying the company, I felt good and I could still turn it up a little at Colon Hollow if I wanted to, because they say, the race begins there.

Robbie caught back up and we talked about how this was our furthest running together in a race, he reminded me of a masochist we were both semi-injured at and that we ran until our injuries, not made for each other, separated us on the hills. We caught up with some runners that were hard to pass so I actually took a walk break down hill. My knee, that did great overall, least liked this section of the whole day so I figured a walk break to distance me from the runners ahead would be a great break for it. The creek sections arrived and Robbie and I ran through them only to have a bunch of debris collect in our shoes so we stopped to take our shoes off and shake them out. It didn't work well but again the knee appreciated the break. 

I had a few runners pass through this section and I figured I was losing time to run 7 hours and that should I plan to run Promise Land again it's this terrain that I need the most work on to improve my time at Promise Land. We came into Cornelius at 9:06 am, it was just a little later than I expected. I was so happy to see so many friends and family. Ivy had my little bag of goodies and Ellie was excited I had finally arrived but not truly appreciating I don't think that I was leaving quickly. I did stop here the longest of the whole day. I stood still long enough to drink half a bottle of cherry coke and eat a delicious pancake. While I was there Jen ran in so she, Robbie and I took off down the gravel road together.

Josh Gilbert was there on his bike, he asked about the knee and gave us a little update about the runners ahead before turning back. At this point in the day it was really beginning to warm up and you can feel it on the road because it's pretty bare. I was happy when we reached the trail section a few miles later because this road section isn't much fun.

It was along this next section that I was actually feeling really good, I think Robbie's company and the descent to Cornelius being done helped, I know that the knee feeling ok definitely helped. We got to Blake's aid station and it was great to see more friends. Blake teased that Scott had joked to lure me in as long as possible here, it's like Blake knows me better than anyone, it was the perfect fuel I needed. That and the amazing Powerade popsicle Mike gave me. It was like some kind of wonder drug! Between the ice pop and the news that Scott was about 5 minutes up I got to work, we had after all made it to the race start at Colon Hollow. 

Along this section I got to talk to Keith and ask him for insight to racing Western, he commented that I probably already knew it, but I wanted what he could offer anyways. I feel like there's always a chance someone has some piece of advice that will pay back in dividends. I thought about Bailey a lot through here, I wondered how she was doing and joked with a few runners that I couldn't let her catch me on the climb because the climbs better than I do.

I tried to move along thinking about Scott up ahead and Bailey. Just past the gravel road section on the Colon Hollow side I saw Scott up ahead. I wanted to catch up with him and make a joke about Blake telling me a long story but he saw me before I could. He told me he knew I liked a good hunt. It's true too. After I caught up with Scott I noticed we all (Robbie, Scott and I) weren't being very chatty. It was now really becoming more work with the heat and the miles both going up. I noticed through here that I was not really sweating anymore, I wasn't drinking enough. I decided at Cornelius to switch from Tailwind to water, hopefully ice water. Overall, I never stopped to use the restroom and the stopping sweating were all signs that I did not hydrate adequately, I'll definitely need to work on this. A little dehydration can become a much bigger problem over a longer race. 

At the deep creek before Cornelius we all paused briefly to take in the cold, refreshing water. It felt amazing. I got to see two of my sons at the turn as well as about 15 people headed out for the climb up to Sunset. Coming into Cornelius the second time I felt pretty good. It was 10:40. I thought that was just enough time to finish under 7 with no mistakes. I figured an hour up and 50 minutes to finish. I got ice water and my bag of peanut butter pretzels and said good-bye to my friends at the aid station. 

Robbie was with me leaving but I noticed Scott stayed back, at this point I was mentally ready to take the climb on! And for a bit I did. I ate, I drank the cold water and I made a vow to run when my heart and legs said I could. Robbie and I caught and passed a runner near the bottom but then more and more as we progressed up the climb. For about two thirds of the climb I hit it really focused. Then I came upon a couple Tech students and got to chatting. They were super friendly and chatty and I know in hindsight I shifted from focusing on climbing well to making friends. But I'm good with that because it took it back to a training run focus for me for the most part. 

I got to Sunset and it was definitely warm and sunny. Mike Dunlop put ice water on my neck and ice in my bottle, Marc got me more water and I had a cup of mountain dew. I was both ready to get done but not really feeling like pushing for 7 hours. Crossing the parkway I saw I had 45 minutes to do 7 hours. My new friend Travis was with me and I told him it would be close. He hadn't run Promise Land before and I told him he could go around but instead we got to talking more about ultras and sharing backgrounds. It was fun and made those two trail miles from Sunset to Overstreet Falls pass quickly as Robbie had fallen behind on the falls climb. 

When we got to the gravel road I looked at my watch, I had less than 20 minutes to break 7 hours, I told Travis I couldn't make it in 7 hours but I told myself that I would still go for it. After running pretty "easy" all day I had enough left to push those last few miles but both my knees thought it was dumb. I decided either way my quads would make me rest first of the new week anyways, so I kept pushing. My heart rate got up, my quads and knees were angry but I honestly kind of loved it. I was thankful for those last few miles. I knew the whole time I wasn't going to hit 7 hours but there was something about trying anyways, just in case. 

I finished in 7:02. It was a good day. I don't know that it could have been much better. I think it was good to have a good day. I can tell there are areas I need to work on over the next few weeks. It gave me confidence in a few things, and most importantly the whole experience reminded me of my love for trail running and the community. 

Bailey finished her first mountain ultra as well, but I'll leave her to tell about that. 

Also, Skittles gummies > Swedish fish > gummy bears. Case you were wondering. 

-AT