Promise Land 50K+ - Part 3

Within minutes of leaving the Colon Hollow Aid Station, I felt the first big pattering drops of cold rain hit the top of my head.  I quickly pulled my windbreaker off the back of my hydration pack and slipped it on (over my pack and all) as I continued down the course, which was on a gravel road at this point.  The rain quickly went from a few big cold drops to deluge in a matter of minutes.  The winds picked up, the thunder and lightening drew nearer and nearer and I could feel the temperatures dropping with each step I took.  I wasn't quite as concerned about the lightening as I might have been if I'd been up on a ridgeline.  I knew there wasn't anything I could do about it, so I might as well keep moving forward as best I could.

Over large portions of the course, I had run in the company of other runners.  Sometimes side by side chatting and conversing for a few miles here and there, at other times it was just having somebody not too far ahead or behind that served to keep you company.  Here I began a section of the course where I felt very remote and isolated.  For large chunks of time, there was nobody within sight.  I was getting colder by the minute as the rain soaked through my clothing (my windbreaker was not waterproof).  I so regretted having let my arm warmers and gloves go in that drop box at AS1.  Oh well, nothing for it now.  You just gotta keep moving to stay warm and aim for that relentless forward progress.  

The trail conditions were rapidly deteriorating.  Lots and lots and lots of mud and puddles.  At some points the trail was actually covered in a fast moving stream of water that was about an inch deep.  I had to chuckle at the time and energy I had wasted earlier in the race trying to keep my feet dry at those first few stream crossings.  Now it was just a matter of plowing on through all the puddles and the mud and trying not to lose your balance.  I was actually glad to see larger puddles and streams as it gave me a chance to wash some of the heavier caked mud off my shoes as I passed through.

Post race pic of my mud caked shoes.

Some pretty inane chatter can populate your thoughts during these ultras.  Right now I was rehearsing various scenarios and how they might play out if I happened to fall and injure myself so that I couldn't run any more.  Grab the next runner that passes by, demand all their clothing (so I don't die of hypothermia), and send them off running naked (and hopefully faster as a result) for help?? Maybe I should have just plugged in to some tunes or something...

That rain kept me company from mile 22 to mile 26.  It only started to let up just as I approached the Cornelius Creek AS 6 again.  I made the aid station about 50 minutes ahead of the cutoff.  Runners seemed to have bunched up here (maybe they had been taking shelter under the aid station tent during the storm?) and I got to see many of them on the short out and back spur to the aid station.  For some unknown reason, I didn't grab much food at the aid station.  I had my heart set on some PB&J quarters and when I got to the table and they didn't have any of those left, I just snatched a section of orange and headed back out.  Not such a great move on my part.  I look back on this point and still scratch my head wondering what the heck I was thinking.  Evidently, not much.  That aid station was the last one before facing the infamous 3 mile long climb up Apple Orchard Falls Trail and "The Steps" and I had drained my fueling bottle completely.

Right out of the aid station you immediately start that 2000' climb.  Everybody was slogging along as best they could.  I was heartened a little in that I felt strong enough to pass several folks during this climb, but it was only because their slog was a bit more pitiful than mine.  My pace was slowing as I began to shiver and ran out of steam.  (I later found out that the temps had dropped to the high 30s).  I didn't have any snacks within easy reach.  Everything was buried away in my hydration pack and would necessitate me stopping and taking my shell off.  I was loathe to stop for anything for fear of losing what little momentum I had.  The idea of taking off what little protection I had from the cold was even more unattractive.  I decided to just keep slogging away step by step.

On a sunny day, the Apple Orchard Falls look like this. (Photo from the News & Advance)

This was the best shot I could manage in the rain.

I feel a little disappointed that I didn't get to admire Apple Orchard Falls much.  They truly are a beautiful multi-tiered cascade bouncing from ledge to ledge down a 150' high cliff.  With all the rainfall we had just experienced, the falls were flowing strong with a loud roar and lots of spray and mist.  I just felt too cold to do more than grab a few hasty pics before putting my head down and moving on.  There are fabulously constructed wooden viewing platforms and bridges by the falls that lead you directly to the base of the infamous wooden steps...over 140 of them.

"The Steps" (over 140 of 'em!)

As I prepared myself mentally for this ascent, I reminded myself that as hard as I felt this climb was, the folks who had built these stairs put in a lot more hard work and effort than I was right now.  Hands to tops of thighs for a little extra boost, keep moving, keep moving...

Wet, cold and tired, but still making forward progress.

Again, amazingly enough, I was able to overtake a few "runners" over this next section of trail.  The rain had eased off completely and I was able to look around once again and admire my surroundings.

After what felt like a really long time since leaving Cornelius Creek, we crested up to an old forest service road and were greeted by a very encouraging volunteer who was there to direct us up the right trail.  Only 0.9 miles to the top he let us know.  I told him I was VERY happy to see him. I knew this intersection meant we were almost there and this was a section of trail we'd covered before.

Next stop - Sunset Fields Aid Station!  I could feel my spirits picking up.  I knew I needed some food and I needed it fast.  Once again I had my heart set on a PB&J.  As the aid station drew within sight, I saw all of the volunteers gathered around a single runner who was standing there shivering uncontrollably with chattering teeth and badly shaking limbs.  They were trying to dress him in their extra clothing.  For some unknown reason he was trying to turn down the extra layers.  I asked one of the volunteers for a PB&J and he broke away from the group to help me out as most of the food stuffs had been put away.  While this volunteer offered to hastily pull together some peanut butter on a slice of bread, I downed some more Mountain Dew and glanced at the hypothermic runner.  He was a young guy who had passed me going very fast many, many miles before.  I got the impression then that he hadn't done many mountain ultras as he was dressed in one of those really lightweight full body track suits and some shorts.  I didn't remember seeing him carry or wear any water bottles either.  Here he was, reduced to a shivering mess, but still determined to go on.

As I grabbed my peanut butter sandwich, the hypothermic runner headed out in front of me at a pretty good clip with a few extra layers over his torso.  I thanked the volunteers and left the aid station.  About 300' down the course, the hypothermic guy had stopped running and was walking very, very slowly.  I asked him if he needed some help getting back to the aid station but he just shook his head, looked off down the trail and kept shuffling along.

Downhill - hurray!!!  I really thought I was going to be able to fly at this point.  I'd made it to the top, I'd refueled, the rain had stopped and my spirits were good.  Minor complication though...the trail was a MESS.  You could see huge skid marks in the mud where people who'd come before had slipped and slid and washed out everywhere.  I began running on the side of the trail where at least there were some rocks and grass to provide traction, but it was still really, really slow nerve racking going.  I kept expecting to slip and fall any moment.  My lightning fast speed on this single track descent?  Oh around 18 min/mile ;-)
 

I was so relieved to finally make it to the last aid station back at Overstreet Rd.  The solid feel of that gravel road under foot felt fabulous.  I waved briefly to the aid station volunteers (who were all huddled up under layers of coats and blankets under the canopy) and headed on down.  I knew I could make good time here, but I also knew I still had 2.6 miles of downhill ahead of me.  At this point, one of the runners I had passed on the climb up Apple Orchard came flying by me.  He called out "Gotta get it while the gettin's good" as he flew by.  I wished him well on keeping up that breakneck pace.  If he had it, best to use it indeed.

OK, concentrate on footing, concentrate on rapid turnover, pace yourself, get it done!  The homestretch!  Race volunteers had spray painted a line across the course at the 1 mile mark.  I kept hoping for that line to appear so that I'd know I only had to endure one more mile.  I felt like it took FOREVER to finally see that beautiful painted line.  I passed several runners during the descent and did catch up to the flying guy about a quarter mile from the finish line.  He was going much, much slower now.  I don't think he'd realized how long 2.6 miles could feel, even on a descent.

The sign that marks the final chute to the finish.

I was so happy to finally see spectators' cars and that Promise Land sign on my right.  As I turned into the field I about wiped out on another huge patch of car churned mud.  I didn't quite know which way the finish line was and headed down the route by which we'd exited the meadow earlier that morning.  Wrong!  Luckily a few folks were milling around and were able to correct me quickly. I charged across the last little bit of wet, wet meadow and dropped under that finish line banner with a time of 9:10:14.

Dr. Horton was right there to greet me.  With a big hug and an even bigger grin, he immediately asked "What did you think?"  Without hesitation, my immediate response was "That was awesome!!!"

I was grinning like an idiot and my legs were starting to tremble and shake from the final downhill exertion.  I quickly grabbed my finisher's award (an awesome pair of really nice Patagonia shorts) and headed into the pavilion to track down my wool blanket.  Aha!!!  There it was right where I'd left it this morning.  I quickly wrapped it around myself and finally began to feel warm again for the first time in hours.  Congratulations from nearby runners, shared smiles and hugs all around.  I headed for the chow line and dished up a huge plate of food courtesy of Mrs. Horton and her fabulous kitchen crew volunteers.  Hamburger, chips, pickles, fruit salad, potato salad, ... It was fabulous!  I'll definitely be back to run this one again next year.

Sharing some finisher's joy with Dr. Horton

The Promise Land 50K+ - Part 2 (Where I actually do some running)

My alarm went off at 4.  The night before I had decided that I’d rather wake to my own alarm than Hortie’s ear piercing bull horn alarm at 4:30.  I still had lots to do before the race, with coffee consumption being at the top of the list.  Lubed up, hydration pack filled, hand held filled with an 800 calorie Perpetuem/Hammer Gel slurry, arm warmers, gloves, windbreaker, compression socks, gaiters, Garmin, etc, etc.  I was good to go. As I was going through my preparations, I heard a shout go up from the folks outside and a round of applause.  It must have been for the runner who started the Promise Land the night before.  It sounded like he’d made it in with a little bit of time to rest before starting it all over again. 

At 5 I heard a tap on the side of the RV and opened the door to a shivering Angela.  She greeted me with a plea for a warm place to change clothes.  She’d had a long, long night trying to stay warm.  I’d offered her some bunk space in the RV the night before, but she had been confident that she’d be fine under her bundles of blankets.  Unfortunately, it had turned out to be much colder than she’d anticipated.

Runners huddle in the pavilion and await the start.

 As we headed for the pavilion, I grabbed a ratty old wool blanket out of the RV to wrap around myself for the last few minutes before the start.  Hundreds of runners were gathered in the dark around the pavilion with headlamps and flashlights.  There was lots of foot stomping and arm rubbing going on as folks tried to stay warm.  I just huddled up under my blanket and took it all in.  I believe temps were in the low 40’s.

Trying to stay warm for a 5:30 a.m. start

Angela working on her peanut butter breakfast

Hortie was obviously a morning person.  He was out in full form giving last minute pep talks and exhorting runners to do their best.  Bull horn in hand he seemed to spark and bounce with excitement as the final minutes ticked off.  He very much prided himself on starting every race exactly on time.

David Horton (RD) with beloved megaphone in hand.

 At 5:30 on the dot, a simple shouted “GO!” sent us all off and we flowed out of the meadow and hit the gravel road as a mass of pounding feet and bobbing headlamps.

The first 2.6 miles of the course are up Overstreet Rd.  A gravel forest service road that climbs at a steeper and steeper pitch from around 1300’ to 2600’.  Along this stretch I fell into step with an older runner who seemed quite comfortable and relaxed.  I said hello and opened the conversation with some questions about the course ahead.  He looked like he’d been here before.  As we chit chatted back and forth in the dark, I discovered that this was Doug Dawkins, one of the founding member of the Mangum Track Club.  I had just completed the famous Mangum Shirt Run some 3 weeks earlier to earn my lifelong membership in the club.  What a blast to get to meet and run with Doug!  It was gonna be a good day. 

Aid Station 1 was positioned at the very top of our path up Overstreet.  There they offered a box for runners to drop headlamps and gear into.  I chose to deposit my flashlight, my gloves and my arm warmers.  (This decision would come back later to haunt me.) I lost Doug at this point as his stop at the aid station had been for just a second or two.  He glanced over at me as he entered the single track and wished me well.  I downed a cup of water, took off my jacket and strapped it on the back of my pack as I headed up onto the single track.

There was a line of runners streaming up the trail.  No running here.  We were all in power hike mode as we hit this steeper section of the climb.  The next 1.5 miles would gain us another 900’ of elevation to top us out at 3500’.  As we continued to climb, the first glimpses of the sun could be seen coming over the ridge line to the east.  It was breathtaking.  There were scattered clouds and fog in the valleys.  The mountains seemed to circle around us, with the valley that we’d just climbed out of stretched out below.  I had been using my iPhone to track my run and for picture taking.  At this point, as I hit about 3000’ I guess I finally got cell phone reception as my phone beeped at me.  A quick glance down revealed a missed call from my little brother up in CT placed at about 6 a.m.  On a whim, I tried to call him back.  I was walking at this point and although I was huffing a bit, we were able to have a quick conversation.  He just wanted to wish me luck on my run.  He got a good chuckle at my uncontained excitement as I described the view around me and the terrain ahead.  He was headed out for his own Mud Run event with some friends, but figured he’d be done in about another two hours.  I, on the other hand, had a long day ahead.

Views of the valley below from Onion Mtn.

All systems were a go for me and I was feeling great.  Hortie had exhorted us to try and make it to the Sunset Fields Aid Station (mile 13.7) by 9:15.  At my current pace, even with the huge wakeup climb those first 4 miles up Onion Mountain where I averaged about a 16+ min/mile pace, I was right on track and doing fine.  After that initial climb, we entered a very runnable section of trail.  A wide grassy path called the Glenwood Horse Trail with a gradual decent until about mile 8.  Here I was able to make some time and dropped my pace down to under 12 min/mile.  Beautiful views surrounded me as we ran along the shoulders of Onion Mtn. I couldn’t help but constantly look off to my right at the ring of mountains and the valley below.  The sound of birdsong filled our ears and at one point I was buzzed by a beautiful scarlet tanager.  Temps now had perhaps reached almost 50F.

Glenwood Horse Trail

Coming up to Reed Creek Aid Station 2 I was feeling good.  I clocked the aid station at 10 miles and hit it right around 8 a.m.  I grabbed a mini PB&J and cup of water, thanked the volunteers and headed back out. I didn’t feel the need for much more and opted to bypass all the bowls of M&Ms, cookies, oranges, bananas and potato chips that covered the table. I had filled my hydration pack with about 50 oz of water and I knew I was doing fine on that and didn’t need to top off yet.  I was also taking periodic hits off my fuel bottle and an electrolyte capsule about every hour. 

From Reed Creek, it’s just 3 miles to the top of Apple Orchard Mtn but about 1000’ ft of climbing.  Once again, I ended up doing a good bit of power hiking here, but if I could make it to Sunset Field aid station atop Apple Orchard Mtn by 9:15, I should be in a good position to beat the 10 hour race cutoff.  I managed a 16 min/mile pace on this climb section.  I fell into step with an older gentleman by the name of Gene Potter.  He was the guy who was keeping his streak at Promise Land going by running this 12^th race.  We talked about the AT, we talked about family, we talked about lots of things.  It was a pleasure.  Ends up his daughter lives down by Fayetteville, NC (she’s in the military) and she’s a really, really talented runner.  Like she qualified for the Olympic Marathon Trials type talent. 

Crossing the Blue Ridge Parkway

Coming up to Sunset Fields you cross the Blue Ridge Parkway and run a brief paved road section of the course.  Here Gene pulled ahead and I would not see him again.  Coming up to the Aid Station 3 at Sunset Fields I was greeted by a loud yell from Charles West exhorting me to “Run!!!  Run faster!!”  Charles is a very excitable kinda fellow, always willing to lend some advice and support to his fellow runners ;-)  He was going to be sweeping the course later that day.  Following behind the last of the runners removing the white trail ribbon markers and picking up any miscellaneous trash that may have been dropped during the race.  I asked Charles to help refill my hydration pack and he very happily hopped to it while I grabbed some Oreo cookies at the aid tables. 

From the Sunset Fields Aid Station (mile 13.7)

The view here at Sunset Fields was exceptional.  We still had only spotty clouds and beautiful blue skies.  Up this high, the trees had not even begun to leaf out and the surrounding woodlands had a wintery look to them. I pulled out of that aid station and began my descent to “the dark side” a little before 9 a.m., more than a quarter hour ahead of Hortie’s suggested cutoff.  All was good.

Crossing the A.T.

From this point, we would begin a precipitous descent into the Shenandoah Valley.  The trail immediately had me crossing the Appalachian Trail.  I couldn’t help but stop to touch the trail sign, grab a picture and stare down the trail at those beloved white blazes.  Good memories.  This section of trail was a pretty technical and steep descent, so I had to pay attention to my footing.  From a high of roughly 4000’ atop Apple Orchard, we would be plummeting rather rapidly to the valley floor along Cornelius Creek to a low of roughly 1200’.  The descent to aid station 4 (Cornelius Creek) is a steep one but it runs you beside a beautiful creek.  I couldn’t help but be distracted by the scene and that inviting sound of rushing water.  You can’t look for more than but a glimpse though or you risk taking a header on this bit of single track.

It was here that we began the creek crossings we’d heard so much about.  Hortie had advised us to just plow through the creek crossings and not goof around trying to rock hop.  His point was that injuries from slipping were highly likely and it was better to just go ahead and get wet.  It’s hard to break old habits though.  The thought of running another 15+ miles in wet shoes made me go ahead and do a bit of bouldering to ford the first crossing and keep my feet dry.  In hindsight, this was absolutely pointless and ridiculous.  Oh well, I would soon learn.  The next two creek crossings were much deeper and much more treacherous.  I stopped to study the options at the second crossing, but ultimately decided to just plunge in and wade across.  Water depth ranged from above the ankle to just below the knee depending on where you stepped.  The icy waters actually felt rather awesome on my feet and I hoped that the hours of wetness I now faced wouldn’t result in too much foot damage and blistering.

I’d been doing well on the descent portion and pacing myself well to make it into AS 4 (mile 17.8), the half way point.  A quick check in at the aid station but I didn’t stop for any food. I was still sucking off my fuel bottle and had a little bit more left.  I did however pull off to the side for a few minutes just after the aid station for a more lengthy potty break as well as to change the batteries on my iPhone (which I was using as a tracking device so my family could follow my progress remotely).

A two mile long road section followed.  Here I was able to pull off 11 minute miles before we took a right hand turn and dove into the woods once again.  This time on White Tail Trail.  An aptly named trail as it wasn’t much more than a deer trail.  Very, very narrow single track with a sharp drop on your left.  My mind couldn’t help but think about the young man who had traversed this section of trail during the night.  One wrong step and he would have been plummeting down the side of the trail.

Next stop, aid station 5 - “Colon Hollow”.  What a lovely name.  My energy was dwindling quickly now to an all time low. By this time, I had been out on the course for over 5 hours. My legs were tired, but they weren’t in too bad of shape yet.  I just felt wiped out and completely drained, no way around it. As I approached the aid station on an ascent (of course it would be an ascent to the aid station), one of the volunteers called out to me asking what I might need.  I yelled back to him that I needed his strongest dose of “go-go juice” whatever that might be.  He rattled off a list of my food and drink options as we entered the aid station together.  Ice cream, popsicles, PB&J, oranges, bananas, cookies, candy, chips, water, Gatorade, shot blocks, potatoes, Mountain Dew and WHISKEY!  Yup, that’s right, they had a big old bottle of whiskey plunked down right in the middle of the beverage offerings with cups at the ready. 

I was a bit of a party pooper.  I declined the shot glass and opted for some Mountain Dew and some potato chunks dipped in salt.  It was perfect!  As I left the aid station with a parting glass of Mountain Dew to sip on, I got my first inkling that we might be in for a bit of weather ahead.  Over the last few miles, I'd been in a bit of a green tunnel, with very limited views to the skies above.  Now, as I entered a small clearing and looked overhead, I noticed how the beautiful blue skies I'd enjoyed on top of Apple Orchard Mountain were gone.  The skies had clouded over, the wind was picking up and making the leaves flutter and sway and I could hear thunder off in the distance.

 

The Promise Land 50K+ - Part 1

The meadow begins to fill.

The “Promise Land Youth Camp” had a bit of a “Field of Dreams” feel to it.  An empty meadow surrounded by mountains in a remote area of VA is transformed into a field of colorful tents, cars and excited runners within a matter of hours.  The Promise Land 50K+ (and the + is a critical detail here) is billed as “Not Your Average 50K” and it certainly lives up to its name.  I had been studying the trail map and elevation profile for weeks.  I had memorized the exact location of every aid station, the special instructions regarding cutoffs, the aid station checkpoints that required us to turn briefly onto side trails…all these details and images were swirling around in my head for days and days leading up to the event, but as soon as I drove onto that meadow and looked up at the beautiful cloud topped mountains, I felt the stress and anxiety fall away.

Aerial view of the course (courtesy of Keith Knipling)

I set up my camp (which consisted of finding a fairly level spot for my RV and doing a little bit of leveling) and then headed to the picnic shelter for some pizza and to pick up my race t-shirt.  I saw several familiar faces and had fun talking trails and running with folks.  I was especially excited to see Angela there.  She and I had met a couple of times previously and we had a mutual friend in Linda Banks.  We’d never really had the chance to spend much time in each other’s company, so it was fun getting to have more lengthy conversations and get to know one another a bit more.  Angela’s been running for quite some time but began running ultras roughly 3 years ago.  She had completed her first 50 miler at the Umstead Ultra just the month prior.  This was to be her first time at The Promise Land as well.

The coolest race shirt I own!

Dr. David Horton has been putting on this particular event for 12 years now.  “King Horton” or "Hortie" as he’s very affectionately known in this particular community, is a running legend.  He has set speed records on the Appalachian Trail and The Pacific Crest Trail, he’s run across America (2900+ miles), won the Hardrock 100, and possibly most impressive of all within the ultra running community, he’s one of only a handful of finishers of the Barkley Marathons.  The Barkley is billed as “The Race That Eats Its Young”.  There have been many, many years where not a single participant was able to successfully complete the course.  Total finishers to date over the races 25 year history - 13.  I listened to an interview with Dr. Horton some weeks ago and in that interview, he said that finishing the Barkley was probably the single running achievement he is most proud of.

"King Horton" on his throne.

I had known of Dr. Horton ever since my own thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail back in 1997, but this was my first chance to meet him in person. My first impression was one of energy, warmth and an absolute passion for what he was doing.  He loves humor (and laughter at his own expense is absolutely fine), he loves trail running, he loves runners and he loves people who are passionate about what they do in life.  His pre-race briefing was a hoot.  He spent a good bit of time introducing various people from the crowd and going on about their most recent achievements, or lack thereof.  One young man had just completed a run across America.  Another older gentleman was here for his 12^th running of the Promise Land and this while in the middle of attempting a thru-hike of the AT and sustaining a bit of an ankle injury that could be a possible stress fracture.  Another young man who was standing off to the side in the dark was announced as making an attempt to "run a double".  That is, as soon as Horton finished the race briefing, this young man was going to run the course through the night (34 miles) and time it so he could return to the starting line before dawn and join us for the official start at 5:30 a.m. and run it all again!  Another woman was called to the front for Happy Birthday wishes.  She was celebrating her 60^th birthday by running The Promise Land! 

Another story from the crowd was not so happy.  A young man who looked to be in his 20s was standing towards the rear of the crowd.  He was called to the front to announce that he was selling raffle tickets for a brand new Giant mountain bike to raise funds for a local cancer center.  The reason?  His young wife, who was an ultra-runner, she’d run The Promise Land several times before, she was an avid soccer player and incredibly healthy and vibrant young woman, had died from a rare form of cancer just last year.  From initial onset, it only took 10 weeks for the disease to claim her life.  The bike was hers.  Given to her by friends while she was in the hospital.  She never got to ride it. 

All of these stories and all of these lives, Hortie gathers in around him.  He remembers all the faces and names, he knows the details of their stories, he touches their lives with generosity and compassion and then kicks you in the butt and challenges you to do more than you think you are capable of.

Somehow, after that bike raffle announcement, Hortie was able to turn things back around and get us all laughing again.  The end of the race briefing is the freebie giveaway.  Hortie doles out various gifts via a raffle system (all while comfortably ensconced in his camp chair perched atop a picnic table above all the crowd around him).  His lottery system is all his own.  If he pulls out a name and doesn’t like who the winner is, he tears it up and tosses it to the side.  Gifts (and they are quite exceptional gifts at that) are given out with much slapstick humor and laughter. Hydration packs, gift certificates for Patagonia gear, sunglasses, etc, etc.  Dozens of pairs of running socks were tossed around the pavilion to runners’ outstretched arms, some pairs having been broken in as nose hankies by Dr. Horton himself.

The basic advice doled out at the race briefing: This course is well marked.  If you get lost during this race, you’re stupid.  DON’T be stupid.

We would all be called to action at 4:30 a.m. via bull horn alarm system that Hortie gleefully demonstrated time and time again at the briefing.  He sent us off with the final advice that sleeping the night before the race was overrated.  It was the two nights prior to that which were important and that we shouldn’t worry overmuch about sleeping.  Go off and have a good time at the bonfire.

Once the main briefing was over, a bonfire was started in a nearby clearing and Hortie invited any first timers who wanted words of wisdom from King Horton to come back to the pavilion for a more informal Q&A and general advice.  I, of course, knew that I wanted to hear whatever he had to say, so after warming up at the bonfire for a few minutes, Angela and I joined the small cluster of runners gathered around Hortie.  Most of his advice seemed to center around GI issues, keeping your butt clean and how to avoid diarrhea.  No joke.  That’s what he mostly talked about.  Not exactly the profound words of wisdom that I might have been expecting, but he felt very strongly that these mundane details could make or break your experience. I’m pretty sure the man knows what he’s talking about.  Other advice - Run within your means, don’t go out too fast, etc, etc.  He did warn us about the technical sections of trail and stressed that deciding you had to drop once you crossed over Apple Orchard Mtn and descended into “the dark side” was probably not the best locale for sustaining an injury or dropping as getting you out could present a problem.  That’s it.

I’m not a late night person and I really like the feeling of being as prepared as I can heading into a race.  It may be an illusion, but it works for me.  I only hung around the fire for a little while before calling it a night and heading back to camp to organize my gear.  The meadow was absolutely packed with wall to wall cars and tents and folks were still pulling in after dark.  As I looked up at the sky one last time, I could still see plenty of stars in the night sky above.  It was going to be a cold, clear night.

Here's a graphic that shows what I would be facing in the morning: