Honey, there's a deer in the chicken coop again.

A rare guest post from my husband, Paul Vail.

Honey, there's a deer in the chicken coop again.

by Paul S Vail on Sunday, July 1, 2012 at 7:45pm ·

It's the suburbs, for crying out loud. The dog and I are on the front porch enjoying a beer and a fun read (The Science of Yoga) while two does are ten meters away grazing on the fig tree and my hardscrabble strawberry remnants. This is in realtime, as i struggle to compose this on the iPhone. Chudleigh, our black lab mix, is trembling - oh dad, just open the screen door for a sec...

I'm conflicted. You see, we have a Bambi infestation something bad. They are everywhere - at Rachel's office window licking out the expensive black sunflower seed we get for the cardinals by the tongue-full, or camping out my door in the scuppernaugh vines, or stripping off the lacey frills of asperagus leaves. Early after sun-up as one of us heads out for a run, evenings when they play deer gang initiation games such as dash in front of the commuter. Or even in the broad daylight, mocking us all with a diurnal lust for non-native yard plantings -- deer salad-- all they are missing is the dressing.  Chudleigh is shaking uncontrollably at this temptation. I'm conflicted. Do I let the door open, or not. See, it isn't as simple as asking him 'What would you do if you caught one?'  He knows, and I know, he is in it only for the joy of the chase.

And yet, this game has unexpected consequences.For weeks, Chuds has been tasked with protecting the chicken coop from the plague of tree rat food thieves, the eastern Grey Squirrel. We've been burning through the chicken scratch at an alarming rate, while skippy the squirrel and family have been approaching American obesity rates on our food (and dime). We can see them from the back deck, with the feeder visible, swinging inside.   The chickens are dainty eaters, they don't swing.  To keep Skippy et. al. out of the coop, we let Chuds go nuclear on them. He's all about being part of the solution.So what does a good dog do when it isn't Skippy gorging at the chicken trough?  Three days ago in the afternoon, a time no self-respecting white-tail would be anywhere close to human habitation in a normal universe, I came out on the back porch to see a deer with its head and neck stuck entirely through the small coop hatch. What the Freeloader is that?, I thought. Slipping the latch on the deck gate, I let Bambi have a taste of Chudleigh justice. Now, to give her credit, it was only a half dozen casual bounds before she cleared the fence line. Not much of a contest. Still, both Chuds and I were a bit surprised at her brazenness.

So things put us both in complete shock just two days ago. There was some squawking from the coop and I could see the chute feeder moving about in the middle of the day. Calling Chuds on to the deck, I knew the tree rat chase would be on in seconds. Chuds flew down the steps, executed his hairpin turn for the straight away 40 meter dash ... and boy did he pull up short of the coop ramp. There was a frightful amount of commotion in the coop, with wood banging. Chuds actually backed off. Uh oh, what's in there?   Fox?   Redtail?  So I turn to bolt down the steps when suddenly there's a crash of wood and breaking glass. I spin in time to see Bambi leaping away from the coop, past the bee hives and over the fence.Chuds even forgot to bark until she was clear of the fence. Crazy! A deer had crawled completely into the coop through the 18x10 chicken ramp hatch to get to the chute feeder, gorging on the chicken crumbles. We didn't have a tree rat problem, we had an ungulate issue in the coop. Chuds had stood by the hatch expecting someone small and grey, totally NOT betting on tall and tan. The deer realized its entrance was now thoroughly canined, and like a bad biker movie, she opted to go through the hardware cloth screen ( to keep the foxes and coons out) and one or the hinged double-plate glass windows for her escape. Amazing. I'm still picking up bits of broken glass.

Back to the now. Maybe I can ease the screen door open just a bit. She has a good 10 meters lead on him...

Eastern Divide 50K

Me and my "crew" ready for the start.

Whew! That was a tough one! Inaugural year for this race and I have to say, the organization was pretty much spot on. A point to point route that began at 2150' elevation at "The Cascades" outside Pembroke, VA and ended at The Mountain Lake Inn & Conservancy at roughly 4000'.

Race HQ - The Mountain Lake Inn

Total elevation gain over the entire course was 5500', loss 3600'.  Final mileage - 30.2.

Topo of the course route

Elevation profile for the course.

Overall, a nice enough course that started off along a picturesque mountain stream and passed by a beautiful waterfall around mile 1 or so.

"The Cascades"

The climb after passing the waterfall.

The vast majority of the course was gravel forest service roads. I would estimate that maybe 10 miles of it was single track.

Not nearly as rugged and arduous as The Promise Land, but also not nearly as beautiful. There were only a few spots that offered views and very few creekside portions.

Thanks to clear cutting, this was one of the handful of views we had.

This event was more of a mental challenge than a physical one.  Some of those really long, steady, unending climbs up the forest service roads took a major mental toll on me.

Majority of course was forest service roads like this one.

There was one 800', 2 mile long climb at the 16 mile mark that was quite memorable.  I went back later and looked over my Garmin data and calculated that this 2 mile stretch averaged an 8.4% grade.  It certainly felt like it!  Thankfully, the race had set up aid station 4 at the very top of the climb.  I was very happy to finally make it there.

Aid Station 4 - a welcome sight!

Highlight of the race - Hubby was able to accompany me to this event and he met me at aid station 4 (mile 18).  He ran along side me for 4 miles until I darted back on to single track after passing aid station 5.

My pacer - note the wine glass clipped to the back of his pack...that's my sweetie!!

I was relieved to make it back under the forest canopy and felt like the temps dropped a couple of degrees as a result.  This section of the single track was on the Conservancy's property and was in good enough shape.  Not too rugged, although there were a few sections with slippery shale to navigate.  Then we hit mile 25 and an abominable little butt kicker of a climb that really took the wind out of your sails.  This was definitely THE STEEPEST section of the course.  Thank goodness it was a short one!  My post race stats had that one pegged at an 18-19% grade over a quarter mile.  I had my hands pushing off on my thighs to try and gain purchase and was literally gasping once I reached the top.

Once you finished that steep little "gift", the trail opened out onto a gorgeous mountain top meadow as your reward for all that hard work.

We skirted around two sides of the meadow with Aid Station 6 in the corner.  I didn't feel the need to stop at the aid station, so I took advantage of the opportunity to pass a few runners who were catching their breath and refueling.  Around to the top of the meadow and onto more forest covered single track.  I was tired, no way around it, but I was feeling fairly good.  We entered a slight downhill portion and here my tiredness chose to make itself apparent.  My right foot caught on a vine that was spanning the trail.  I stumbled and fought for balance, caught myself with a huge stride on the left leg and felt a sharp pain in the inside of my left thigh as I did so.  It was fast, sharp and pretty powerful.  The runner behind me passed by with the comment "Nice catch", but I'm not so sure.  Perhaps I might have been better off just falling.  The pain brought me to a standstill and I could barely walk for a dozen steps.  The muscle on the inside of my left thigh was seizing up something fierce.  Here I was at mile 26, just a few miles short of the finish line and I was seriously wondering if my race was over.  I could barely walk, but kept telling myself over and over "Keep moving.  Keep moving."  Reduced to a very awkward and tentative hobble, grasping my thigh with both hands, I pushed on in the hopes that if I kept moving, it would eventually ease up.  After about 200' at this pace, I decided to try and shuffle/jog.  That proved to be a bit less painful and so I pushed on.  After about a quarter mile, the muscle loosened up completely and I was back on my way, albeit a little more tentatively.  Whew!

I ran by Aid Station 7 at the 28 mile mark without stopping.  I had hoped to see Paul here (and get rid of my hand held and my iPhone which was freakishly beeping at me every 3 seconds and driving me absolutely batty), but no familiar faces.  A quick thanks to the aid station volunteers and I headed back onto more single track with the finish line a mere 2 miles away.

At this point I kept yo-yoing with a guy by the name of Codie and an older woman who was using this event as a training run for the Vermont 100.  I stuck close to Codie, opting not to try and pass just yet, but keeping him in sight for company and a bit of conversation.

The course designers had a very cruel little streak.  At roughly mile 29, it takes you right past the finish line and back into the woods!  It was a real mental challenge to keep on trucking when you could see the finish line right there, hear the crowd cheering for other runners as they came in, and literally smell the burgers on the grills.

Head up, keep moving.  Still hanging with Codie, we passed the "1 mile to go" sign.  More woodlands, a sharp turn to the left, rolling single track...that mile seemed to be one of the longest I'd ever run.  Finally, we came out of the forest canopy and into the meadow where we new the finish line was just up ahead.  The trail widened here so I came up beside Codie and asked him if he wanted to push to the finish.  He was done though, so I forged on ahead with a little bit of a sprint to the end.  I had the ultimate motivator waiting for me just the other side of the line.  There was my honey cheering me on and holding out a chilled glass of wine and my fuzzy bedroom slippers ;-)

The motivation behind my final sprint - WINE!

 Final time: 7:16:39.7 

I grabbed my beverage and headed to the side lines, catching up with friends that had just finished and basically just enjoying being DONE!  As soon as I sat down, my left thigh started to go into very uncomfortable cramps.  Paul was right there with a bag of ice in hand.  Thank goodness, 'cause that was incredibly painful.  The icing helped tremendously and within 10 minutes, all was well again.

Ice pack on thigh, wine in hand, fuzzy slippers...life is good!

The race had finished in a beautiful meadow by the Conservancy's stables. There were grills going, tents set up, and plenty of family and friends enjoying the beautiful afternoon and the scenery as they waited for their runners to finish. Lots of folks hung out for a long time afterwards lounging on chairs and blankets and eating their fill.

Lauren, Linda and me...all smiles!

There was a large contingent of NC runners there and it was fun hanging out with so many familiar faces. I got to spend a good bit of time with several runners along the course and had very much enjoyed running some miles with John from Pittsburg. Number 53 was a gentleman celebrating his 53rd birthday by running the race. He had been given race bib number 53 in honor of the day and we all wished him "Happy Birthday" as he came across the finish line. Terri Hayes (race director of the SC Ultra Trail Series) was one of the runners and prided herself on being the "last finisher".

I placed 119th out of 173 finishers.  I'm really pretty darn pleased with that. I came in just minutes behind Gene Meade, Lauren Beach Wilkens and Mo Percy, all of whom I consider to be very strong and accomplished ultra runners. My previous best time at a 50K was 6:52, but that was on a much, much flatter course on a crisp winter day down near Ft. Bragg, NC. Temps here reached into the 80s and the mountains are always a factor.

I don't know if I'll return to this race as I really like for my mountain miles to have more views and scenery for all the hard work and I do like my single track. I give it a thumbs up though if you like running wider forest service roads and want to get in a decent mountain run workout. Aid stations were simple but adequate. The trail was exceptionally well marked and there were ample volunteers and support. The race had a 200 runner cap this year and had a nice, intimate feel to it.

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:

 

Umstead Trail Marathon

9^th Umstead Marathon

March 3, 2012

I’m startled from sleep at 2:30 in the morning by loud claps of thunder and flashes of light.  A huge thunderstorm rolls by overhead, rattling the windows and making the whole house vibrate.  The 9^th running of the Umstead Marathon is less than 7 hours away.

The Umstead Marathon has been on my race dream list since I first started running a little over a year ago.  When I first heard of a marathon run completely within the borders of this park and that included some of its more challenging single track trails, I was hugely drawn to the thought of participating, but also very respectful of the challenge (and a bit intimidated). The added challenge of Umstead is that it has a 6 hour cutoff.  That isn’t much of a consideration for the speedier runners out there, but for me it was a real concern. I had only completed my first marathon 4 months ago.  At the Raleigh City of Oaks Marathon, I ran at an easy going pace, stopping to greet friends and family along the way, snap pictures, enjoy treats and calf massages from my crew...  My finish time was 5:52.  Did I really expect to complete the Umstead Marathon, on single track no less, in under 6 hours?

Course map

 

That’s been the focus of my training for the last 4 months.  Before I even considered registering for Umstead, I ran a few 20 mile training runs along the course just to see if I could come anywhere near the required pace.  It was close, but I did it, and I could feel myself getting stronger each time.  So when registration opened, I signed up within the first hour.  The race is limited to just 200 entrants and sells out within a matter of a day or two.  I didn’t want to take a slot from another more capable runner if I didn’t think I could complete the course, but my training runs really gave me the confidence I needed to try.  My last test was running the National Breast Cancer Marathon in February and really giving it a good try.  New marathon finish time: 5:13.  I think Umstead was within my reach.

The worst of the storms passed during the early morning hours.  Posts on the race’s Facebook page said that barring tornados or hugely dangerous lightening storms, the race would be a go.  I awoke again at 5:30 to the sound of a steady downpour and temps of about 60F.  I could deal with that.

The race was set to begin at 9 am.  Umstead is only a 15 minute drive from my home.  Pretty convenient.  Entering the park was a steady stream of vehicles with various running related decals, bumper stickers and magnets.  Volunteers directed us to our respective parking areas from under their huge umbrellas and rain slickers.  It was gonna be a wet one.

Race Swag

Before the race

Entering the lodge of Camp Lapihio, you’re greeted by the smell of a wood fire and the busy hum of runners as they greet old friends and become acquainted with new ones.  I had plenty of time to stash my gear, visit with friends and hit the portajohns one last time.  It’s always interesting to me at the start of the race how different everybody’s preparations are.  Some runners withdraw into themselves with serious looks on their faces.  Obviously their minds are filled with race related thoughts, last minute concerns. Perhaps self doubt and nervousness are at play? Other runners are hugely gregarious and work the crowd cheerfully hugging and hand shaking and greeting one and all with loud hellos, jokes, catching up on their latest training news and chatting about upcoming events.  Then there’s another contingent who find a bubble of peace, whether it’s right within the crowd or off to the side.  One of this genre was lying on a bench, eyes closed, breath steady and deep.  Everybody prepares for the upcoming experience in their own way.

Camp Lapihio

Runners are called to line up.  The rain has tapered off to just the faintest mist.  There are less than 200 of us, so the pack is a small one.  Final race directions are announced over the PA and we’re off!

I knew that if I wanted to complete this race within the time limit, I needed to run within myself from the very beginning.  I was surprised at how many people went out fast.  The pack was pretty tight through the first half mile or so.  I never looked back over my shoulder to confirm it, but I think I was one of the last five runners within the first quarter mile.  That’s ok.  That’s how I like to start.  I knew I’d be using a run/walk strategy throughout the day, but I didn’t feel like I needed to stick with a hard ratio.  The trail’s ups and downs would dictate plenty of walk breaks in addition to my scheduled ones.

The race starts out with a short out and back on the airport overlook spur of the Reedy Creek bridle trails for the first mile or so.  This is so the runners can spread out a bit to more easily navigate the upcoming single track portions.  After that mile or so warm up, we dive under the forest canopy for several miles of narrow single track along the Company Mill and Sycamore Trails.  Here the runners must go single file and all attention is directed downward to our feet and the path ahead.  Rocks, mud, roots, it’s all there in force.  

Mud and rocks and roots, oh my!  (photo courtesy of Jim Wei)

I don’t have a pair of dedicated trail running shoes, so I was running this race in my much loved Asics 3020s.  They’re great for the roads, greenways and more perfectly groomed bridle trails, but they’re not so great for traction on mud covered single track, so I was especially cautious over these miles.  I did have on a pair of “Dirty Girl” gaiters and was grateful for their added protection.

Runners climbing the switch backs on single track

  

I soon joined the tail end of a long line of runners happily making their way through the wooded tracks.  We laughed and joked and hallo’d  and called to one another as we climbed and descended the various ridges and creek valleys.

Typical single track trail (photo courtesy of Jim Wei)

At the back of the pack, we were all just worried about staying upright.  There were plenty of indications along the trail that some who had been ahead of us had taken some monstrous wipeouts.  Long smears of smoothed mud where obviously some had lost their footing.  Coming back up the final sections of Sycamore loop, I heard the unmistakable “oof” and felt more than heard the “whomp” as the poor guy in back of me did a complete face plant on the trail just 20 feet behind me.  I immediately turned round and ran back to his position, but he was already picking himself up and swiping at some of the mud and leaf debris that covered his legs and hands.  A little shaken up, but he was fine and we turned back up the trail and proceeded on.

"BE CAREFUL ON THE DEVIL'S SPINE" (photo courtesy of Shannon Johnstone)

Rain-slicked bridge crossings, swollen streams, the pitter patter of gently falling rain on the few brown leaves left clinging to the branches overhead.  The final climb up to Reedy Creek to rejoin the bridle trails was filled with the sounds of squelching mud as a half dozen of us gingerly traversed a long expanse of trail that was literally buried in mud.  It's all good!

(photo courtesy of Jim Wei)

Breaking out onto the bridle trails from the last of the single track at around mile 8 was a welcome relief.  No more painstaking progress with eyes directed downward.  The single track was loads of fun, kinda like an adult mud pit playground, but it was also very tiring.  I had challenged myself to do better than a 14 min/mile pace over the single track and my average at this point was roughly 13:30.  All good.

"WATCH OUT...THE TREE OF DEATH!" (Photo courtesy of Shannon Johnstone)

The bike and bridle trails of Umstead are crushed gravel/cinder, wide and expansive, well groomed trails that are a delight to run through the woods on.  Not to be mistaken for an easy path though, the bike and bridle trails are definitely not flat.  Some of the more impressive stretches have names like “Corkscrew Hill” and “Cemetery Hill”.  I don’t think the Boston Marathon’s famed "Heartbreak Hill" has anything on Umstead.

Hitting my stride on the bridle trails

Once I hit the bridle trails, I fell into an easy running pace and saved my walk breaks for the climbs.  There were plenty of well stocked aid stations along the way and roving aid bikers with panniers stuffed with gels and water bottles who would miraculously appear along the trail just when you needed them.  

Coming into an aid station

My next goal was to make the 14.8 mile cutoff by 12:15.  I’d be cutting it close, but if I stuck to business and didn’t dawdle too long at the aid stations, I should make it.  I started passing some of the back of the pack runners about this point.  I’m not a fast runner, but I’m a steady one, and every event I’ve ever been in, I’ve managed to maintain a fairly steady speed from beginning to end, which allows me to reel in a lot of the folks who get carried away at the beginning and go out too fast.

"TOENAILS are for SISSIES" (photo courtesy of Shannon Johnstone)

As we turned onto S. Turkey Creek at mile 10, I was greeted by the melody of Rocky’s theme song being played by a young boy on his trumpet – AWESOME.  Heading on out from the mile 10 aid station, the course has a sweet mile or two long section of gradual downhill.  That felt great.  It was here that I started to see the leaders of the race making their way back.  They were hitting mile 19, I was hitting mile 11 ;-)  They looked like they were flying!!  Lots of hellos, some hi-fives and calls of encouragement were shared among us all.

South Turkey Creek Trail

 

The Turkey Creek Trail is a well respected section of the bike and bridle trails at Umstead.  A seemingly endless string of ups and downs, some rather steep for both runners and bikers.  The fact that the Umstead Marathon has you traverse this section of trail TWICE can be a bit demoralizing, especially on the return trip when you’re hitting the high teen miles.  I just kept my head down and focused on the ground immediately ahead of me on some of the tougher sections and took the steep hills one step at a time.  I had to make that cutoff and I didn’t have much time to spare.  As I finally finished up the first pass through Turkey Creek, I had perhaps a half mile to go to the cutoff point.   I was going to make it, but I wondered about the runners behind me. 

I hit the aid station at the turnaround, refilled my water bottles and headed back out for the return trip on Turkey Creek.  I passed several runners who were still making their way to the cutoff and just a few tenths of a mile beyond, I came upon “The Grim Sweeper”.  He was riding his bike just behind two inbound runners and they were gamely taunting him and making jokes about getting pulled, but they were also continuing to make their way towards the turnaround as quickly as they could.  A few other runners further behind them were not so lucky and did in fact get pulled.

Turkey Creek once again.  Around mile 17, I noticed that the inside of my left arm was starting to bother me.  I guess the rainfall had dampened my shirt sufficiently to cause it to chafe the skin on the inside of my upper arm.  Now that skin was starting to smart quite a bit with each swish of my arm back and forth and the sting of sweat.  I tried running with my arm held out to the side a bit, but it was seriously annoying and I didn’t want to have to run like that for the next 9 miles.  I focused on the trail ahead and tried to enjoy the beauty of the surrounding woods now that so many of the runners had spaced themselves out and stretches of the trails were almost deserted. 

By mile 19, I knew I was going to have to do something about my arm.  Luckily, there was some medical support at the mile 20 aid station.  Two likely volunteers jumped to it when I asked for some medical attention.  One of these gentlemen was wearing a red spaghetti strap evening gown over his shorts, t-shirt and hiking boots and made quite the picture ;-)  They wrapped some lengths of gauze around my arm to cover the abraded skin while I chowed down on some of the best tasting Oreos I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying and a couple of sections of banana to round out my snack.  Bandaged and fed, I headed back on my way for the final 6.2 miles.

Now that my arm was protected, I felt immense relief and was better able to focus.  The return up Reedy Creek is wide and open and very well groomed.  It has some respectable hills, but they’re long and gradual compared to Turkey Creek.  I was pushing myself a bit just to see how close I could come to a 5:30 finish.  My stop at the first aid tent had cost me a few minutes, but I really did need that help and don’t regret having spent the time getting patched up. 

One last 2 mile long spur down and back on the Cedar Creek Trail between miles 22 ad 24.  As you make the turn onto Cedar Creek, there was another aid station with a varied assortment of offerings.  I scored a cup of flat coke, refilled a water bottle and headed down the trail.  Cedar Creek is a rocky bridle trail with plenty of washout ruts that can easily twist an ankle if you’re not careful.  I was seeing some mighty tired runners coming back up out of Cedar Creek, but I was actually feeling pretty strong at this point and charged on ahead.  Finally, the last turnaround at the bottom of Cedar Creek and the mile long climb back out and I’d be in the home stretch. 

Turning back onto Reedy Creek felt like turning onto a highway by comparison to Cedar Creek's rutted pathway.  Last big push and Cemetery Hill straight ahead.  It’s a nasty one to throw at a tired runner so close to the end of a marathon, but I did the best I could alternating walking and running to finally crest the top at Mile 25.  One more mile to go! 

I was so pleased that I still felt some strength in my legs once Cemetery Hill was behind me.  I really wanted to run in that last mile as best I could.  Head down, legs turning over as quickly as I could.  Push!

As I made the final turn down the drive to Camp Lapihio, a car that was leaving the parking area pulled to an abrupt halt, the doors flew open and the Walters-Clift family jumped out to yell and clap and cheer me on!  Thanks for the final rally Charles, Nancy, Flora and Oliver.  What a great surprise!

I knew I wasn’t going to hit that 5:30 mark, but I was going to come darn close.  The finish line was just up ahead with the lodge directly beyond.  Woohoo!  A small crowd was cheering in the remaining runners and I sailed across the finish line with a huge smile on my face!  5:32:44!  And my last mile had been my fastest of the entire marathon by over a minute!

After the finish!

I paced around a bit to slow my thumping heart and let my legs loosen up.  I grabbed my beautiful bat adorned finisher’s pint glass that I had worked so hard to earn.  After a few minutes of visiting with some of the other folks milling around at the finish, I made a dash into the lodge to grab a monstruously huge Moe’s burrito to munch on.  It was perfect!  I spent the next half hour hanging at the finish line to cheer on the remaining runners.  The last finishers were greeted with huge cheers and another Umstead Marathon came to a close.

My Finisher's Trophy

Each of the 3 marathon’s I’ve run now has had its own unique character and feel.  The Raleigh City Of Oaks (my first), is filled with images of the friends and family who came out to support me over the entire length of the course.  The National Breast Cancer Marathon in Jacksonville, FL had huge crowd support and that lovely 3 mile stretch along the beach at sunrise.  Definitely memorable.  I think the Umstead is my favorite though.  I just love, love, love Umstead State Park and feel so lucky to have this treasure in my own backyard.  I never feel so alive and joyful running as I do on trails.  It was the most challenging course of the three by far, but perhaps the most satisfying (even though it wasn’t my fastest).  The Godiva Track Club did an exceptional job hosting this event.  I will definitely be back!

Postscript: Next time I go to peel gauze from a wound, wet it first.  There had been no barrier or ointment between my raw abraded skin and the gauze.  When Paul went to unwind it so I could take my shower, he managed to pull off a layer of skin that had dried and stuck to the gauze. OUCH!!!  All the guys who complain about the pain of bloody nipples when they enter a shower had nothing on me when I stepped under the shower head.  Both arms ended up having 2-3” long strips of what looked like road rash where they had rubbed against the sleeve of my wet running tee for 20 miles.

Umstead Marathon Elevation (from my Garmin)

Race mile splits

Gear:

running shorts

Injinji toe socks

Asics 3020 gel shoes

Dirty Girl Gaiters

Visor (which I soon ditched)

Nathan fuel belt (with 10 oz water and 20 oz of my Perpetuem/Hammer Gel slurry)

Enduralyte caps (I consumed perhaps 5 or 6)

Garmin 310XT worn over an Under Armour fabric wrist band

Rawthreads bamboo fiber t-shirt

Asics arm warmers

Moving Comfort Fiona bra