THE RING
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| Aerial view of the Massanutten Mountain Trail in Central Virginia |
The Ring – “A 71 mile
traverse of the Massanutten National Recreation Trail in the George Washington
National Forest of Central Virginia with many mountain vistas.” It is put on by the Virginia Happy Trails
Running Club. That makes it sound quite
picturesque and bucolic. Even the
sponsoring club sounds all happy and fun-filled. In reality, the Massanutten Trail is a
rugged, rock-filled, technical length of single track that takes you across
over 24 thousand feet of climbing and descending. Many sections are overgrown with sawbriers
and stinging nettle. The rocks are the
main killers though. They seem to come
alive beneath your feet, shifting and moving at the most inopportune moments. (I’ll come back to this details many times.)
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| 50 optimistic little lambs... |
Race day was August 30th
and it was a typical hazy, hot and humid kinda day in central VA. The trails offer very few access points for
water. There were plenty of sections
that were exposed to full sunlight and enough flying insects to bite, sting and
torment you that many of the runners “in the know” had brought bug netting.
I toed the line on Saturday
morning with only one goal – to finish.
For the previous 48 hours, I had intentionally diverted my thoughts away
from the task ahead. Normally, I obsess
about events, topos, maps, gear lists, pace charts, etc. This time around, I knew I really had no
frame of reference from which to launch, so I opted to withdraw. I had done my training, I knew the drill for
pre-race checklists and Saturday morning would bring what it would.
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| Elevation profile for The Ring |
As is my standard M.O., I
hung back at the start and brought up the rear.
I call myself the caboose. I was
always in the ranks of the last 3 to 5 runners.
Between Mark Zimmerman, Leonard Martin and myself, there was some stiff
competition for the true claim on last place for a while there.
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| My companion for many a mile, Mark Zimmerman, enters Crisman Hollow aid station followed soon after by "The Caboose" |
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| Crisman Hollow Aid Station, Mile 13.3 (all aid was hiked in) |
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| Getting my sun baked look on |
I was so relieved to finally
see the aid station tent and hear the haloos of the volunteers.
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| Camp Roosevelt, a very welcome sight (Aid Station 2, mile 24.9) |
16 more runners would drop between
Camp Roosevelt (AS2) and Crisman Hollow (AS3).
The heat was brutal leaving Camp Roo and making our way up Duncan Hollow. Many would succumb to heat exhaustion,
cramping and GI distress. Once you complete Duncan Hollow, you have one more obstacle between you and the oasis of the Crisman Hollow aid station. The climb up Waterfall
Mountain is infamous for good reason. Roughly
800’ of ascent in just over half a mile.
I found myself taking 10 steps and stopping to breathe. 10 steps and
stop to breathe. Repeat ad infinitum
until the bad dream ends.
This was where I came upon my
friend Larry. Three quarters of the way through the climb, a voice from above
calls out a “Helloooo, Rachel.” I lift
my eyes for the first time in quite a while (it’s too painful and demoralizing to look up at the
trail rising endlessly before you), and there’s my dear friend, Larry, calmly
seated at the side of the trail, legs stretched out in front of him, another
runner standing at his side. My
immediate thought was that he had taken a spill and twisted an ankle or torqued
something, but within the first few words of greeting, Larry calmly tilted over
to the side and a copious stream of clear liquid was ejected from his mouth. He nonchalantly wiped his mouth and picked up
the conversation right where we had left off.
This “ritual” was repeated every couple of sentences.
Larry was “out”. He was suffering from heat exhaustion, nausea,
dehydration, dizziness, etc, etc and he was willing to admit that it probably
would not be safe for him to continue. Larry
had bigger fish to fry on the horizon with the Grindstone 100 just 5 weeks away and he
didn’t want to do anything stupid that would impact his upcoming 100
miler. Larry had lucked upon the
assistance of another runner’s crew member who had kept him company and kept
him safe the last few tortuous miles. So
our little entourage of 3 made our way up to the crest of Waterfall Mtn. I tried to keep up a bit of mindless chatter
to distract and we safely made it into the Crisman Hollow aid station at mile
34.4.
I LOVED this little aid
station. I downed one of the all time
BEST grilled cheese sandwiches I have ever eaten and was delighted when one of
the volunteers offered me a beautiful, white, clean, wet face cloth to do with
what I would…HEAVEN!!! It was hard to
leave, but I knew that if I wanted to make the first cutoff, I needed to
boogie. So I changed socks and shoes
(the uppers on my Hoka Stinsons had been torn open by a few too many encounters with rocks), grabbed my headlamp and
headed on down the trail.
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| Sunset approaches. View from the western ridge line at dusk. |
This is where things start to
get blurry in my recollection. Night was
falling. The next aid station, Moreland Gap at mile 40.7, was the first hard
cutoff of 9:30 pm. I thought I was doing
ok on time, but I knew I needed to stay focused and on track to get there. Rocks, rocks and more rocks. It wasn’t so much the bottoms of my feet that
were taking the punishment as my Hokas provided more than enough protection in
that direction, but it was the sides and front of my feet that were being
pummeled. Crossing some of the more
challenging sections (and there were lots of them) was like having the sides of
your feet randomly struck with a ball peen hammer. The rocks weren’t always stationary and they
took every opportunity to shift under foot, smashing the sides of my feet into
rocks with all of my body weight every couple of steps. It was brutal.
I made Moreland Gap by around
9:10. To be exact to the letter of the
race rules, you had to DEPART the aid station by 9:30. I refilled water, dilly dallied with some
food and repacking of my pack and was back on my way following Leonard Martin
on down the trail by headlamp with just 2 minutes to spare for the 9:30 cutoff. Leonard’s help through so many sections was
invaluable. He had covered this course
(whether it was during The Ring or The Massanutten 100) dozens of time. He gave me updates on what lay ahead, pep
talks ensuring me that some of the more onerous rock section would indeed come
to an end, and all around great advice.
We flip flopped back and forth quite a bit during the night and it was
very comforting to see his headlamp ahead or behind from time to time.
Like I said, my memory of
specifics gets foggy around here.
Somewhere during the night, Leonard had left the trail briefly (potty
break or phone call, I’m not sure which), and when he came back to the trail,
he turned in the wrong direction.
Luckily, I had been several minutes behind him when he left the
trail. You can imagine our surprise when
we walked into each other traveling in opposite directions in the dark. When he saw my headlamp, he thought it might
be somebody from one of the aid stations walking back down the trail to make
sure folks were safe, but when he realized it was me and that he had indeed
become turned around, he was a bit surprised to say the least.
Other events during the night
– Getting to spend several miles with Helen McDermott was truly a
pleasure. We’d met briefly at some other
ultras, but never had the time to visit.
Helen is usually a MUCH faster runner than me. The only reason she and I were able to travel
together this night was because she had decided to call it quits and was just
moseying along feeling no pressure for speed.
She was super tired and just wasn’t feeling the joy out there. Like Larry, she had Grindstone 100 looming on
the horizon and didn’t want to overextend herself at The Ring. She dropped back from my side somewhere
between Edinburg AS (#5, mile 48.7) and Woodstock AS (#6, mile 56.9) and rumor
had it that she actually took a nap on the side of the trail for a while
;-)
Other late night events – I
believe it was at Edinburg Gap (AS5, mile 48.7) that I asked for some help
putting fresh batteries in my headlamp as my fingers and hands weren’t working
so well. Various volunteers jumped to my
assistance, replaced the batteries and I was on my way. Unfortunately, somehow during the battery
replacement maneuver, some little plastic ratchet piece in my trusty Fenix snapped
and it could no longer hold the beam at any intermediate angles other than
straight up, or straight down.
In hindsight, I have to laugh
at the rather comical picture I became as I tried to smoothly, ever so
smoothly, make my way down the trail holding my head just so. If I dared to jostle myself, the lamp
immediately dropped to the downward position and illuminated nothing but my
feet. It sucked. There was no way I could travel this rock infested
trail without the lamp being jostled from my constant missteps and jarring
impacts with rocks. I thought about
strapping my hiking poles to my pack and holding the light in my hand, but I
NEEDED those sticks to keep me upright and felt like if I gave them up, I would
cause myself some serious injury with a rolled ankle or worse. This situation persisted from mile 48.7 to
56.9, which at the rate I was traveling was a solid 4 hours. My neck spasms and aching shoulders reached
all new levels.
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| Woodstock Tower Aid Station. Amazing how beautiful a couple of camp chairs and a folding table loaded with food can seem in the middle of the woods. |
The last sections were not
easy, but I kept a steady pace and just kept moving forward. I was still able to run when the trail was
level enough and not a bed of rocks, but that wasn’t very often. My shoulders and hands were killing me. I was constantly raising my arms straight up
overhead and holding them there for a few deep breaths to try and relieve some
of the tension.
Dawn is a beautiful time on
the mountain. As the woods awoke around
me, I took special pleasure from hearing those first bird calls and seeing the
canopy come to life around me. Only a
few more hours to go and my suffering would be over. I really did just want it to end.
Quick stop at Powell’s Fort
Camp (AS7, mile 62.4) and I pressed on in the company of Leonard Martin once
again. I really didn’t think the climb
up Signal Knob was all that bad. Except
for a bit of single track around the reservoir, it’s mostly on a wide forest
service road and my feet greatly enjoyed the break from the rock assaults.
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| View of Strasburg from atop Signal Knob. |
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| Yup, that's a trail. |
The one nice part of that
descent was all the clean smelling day hikers that were making their cheerful way
up the mountain to the overlook. Many of
them knew about the event (I think they must have been coached by some of the
folks down at the finish line) and were applauding me and cheering me on. It really did lift my spirits. The first time it happened, the leader of one
of these processions saw me hobbling down the trail and called out “Runner!” so
his party would step to the side. I
looked behind me to see who the “runner” was that must be coming up behind me
and then realized he was talking about me.
I laughed out loud and joked with him that I was hardly a runner at this
stage of the game. He assured me that if
I had covered 70+ miles in a day, I was indeed a “runner”. I liked that perspective.
I finished. It wasn’t pretty. There wasn’t a triumphant sprint to the
finish line. No cheering crowds or
medals. As I entered the Signal Knob parking
lot, there were perhaps ten or twelve folks gathered there (other runners who
had just finished, the RDs and some volunteers). I thrust my arms up into the air, but not in
a celebration of victory. It was my futile
effort to relieve the back and shoulder spasms that had been tormenting me for
the last 16 hours.
Although I finished (and am thrilled about
that), another part of me came away feeling rather disheartened with my running
abilities. I felt like I was out there with an entirely different class of
ultra runners and that I didn't belong. Everybody else that finished looked so
strong and capable. They were so very much
faster than me. I came in 24th out of 25 finishers. Number 25 finished at an
all out run looking so strong. She'd been sidelined for a few hours by stomach
issues but once that settled down, she flew.
I, on the other hand, hobbled into the parking lot looking and feeling
90 years old. I know, not exactly a healthy attitude to come away with. My finish time was 27:51 (just a bit more
than an hour ahead of the 29 hour cutoff).
Putting my speed in perspective, the winner’s time this year was
16:10. First female was in 18:31. |
| The Sugar Knob Cafe |
After finishing and absolutely gorging myself on some of the incredible fare they made available at the “Signal Knob Café” (i.e. – bacon, sausage, French toast, biscuits, made to order eggs, real fruit popsicles, grilled shrimp, sweet potato latkes, scones, croissants, cake, pie, etc, etc), I texted my husband, Paul, about how painful it had all been and how I had finally discovered what my limits were. I even wrote to him that "The Ring" may have cured me of some of my more ambitious ultra running dreams. Honestly, it was so painful. I really didn't enjoy it. I was proud that I had finished (more proud of this single event than any other to date), but it hadn't been "fun". I hurt. Not my legs, they were in good shape throughout and I think my training was solid, but my shoulders were spasming horribly from the weight of my pack, my palms were blistered, and my hands were painfully cramped from the death grip I had on my sticks for 28 hours. My toes and feet were so banged up from the endless crashing into rocks, that I would later lose 3 toenails to the Massanutten Mountain gods.
It took me until 9 am Monday morning to finally arrive home (lots of stops to sleep along the way). I had finished the race at around 11 am Sunday. The drive home should have only taken 6 hours. Much of my drive home was spent in a mental funk lamenting my abilities and dwelling on the sheer stupidity of ultras that last longer than 12 hours.
I pulled into the driveway and our 6 year old, Maddie, was at the door of the RV in her fuzzy pajamas before I'd even put it in park. We hugged and held each other for a few minutes of pure bliss and then headed inside. As I walked into the kitchen, Paul, turned from the sink to greet me with a smile on his face and quietly said "So, you finished in the top half of the participants. Nicely done."
With that single sentence, my whole attitude turned around. Paul's words changed my frame of reference. He had taken my negative spin on my finishing position and totally turned it on end to be a celebration. Yes! I had finished in the top half of the participants! There were 50 people at that starting line. Only 25 finished, and I was one of them.
Now I find myself sitting here wondering how I could solve my "issues" so that the next time I'm on a trail like that, I can actually enjoy it. My mind is spinning with the possibilities already... You know, there’s a “Reverse Ring” held in February each year…
Garmin data: http://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/580399538
71 miles with 12,167’ of gain and same of descent. Min elevation 738’. Max elevation 2802’.
What did I do right –
- · Good pacing in the early stages (by heart rate)
- · Kept an eye on cutoffs and paced myself accordingly. Very focused, no dilly dallying. (Made the first cutoff by only 2 minutes, but I made it.)
- · Asking for route tips from the veterans at each aid station and specifics on how to get to each aid station from trail.
- · Carrying Keith Knipling’s route cards (I printed and laminated them)
- · Hiking sticks were invaluable
- · Nutrition – shot blocks, nutter butters, apple sauce squeezers, electrolytes, grilled cheese, coco loco bars.
- · Cool bandana filled with ice was the bomb leaving AS2.
- · Pretaping my back with kinesio tape to head off any chafing under the sports bra.
Things to do better:
- · Different shoes that will better protect my toes and feet (is there such a thing?).
- · Wear gloves or figure out some kind of protection for my hands.
- · More training miles with a loaded pack and hiking sticks to better condition my shoulders and hands.
- · Watch water more diligently. Tank up at the aid stations in addition to refilling bladder.
- · Wear my visor from the start for more sun protection.
- · Use some type of bug netting for the Duncan Hollow section.
Gear I used:
Hoka Stinsons
Dirty Girl Gaiters
Injinji socks for the first
40 miles as sock liners
Wright socks double layered
(went through 3 pair)
Black Diamond Women’s Pro Shock
hiking poles
Patagonia shorts
Road Runner All Sports Modern
Sleeveless Tank
Under Armour Heat Gear Sport Bra
Ultimate Direction AK vest
with a bladder
Garmin 310 XT (brought a
battery charger that I wore during the middle of the night for a couple of
hours to recharge my Garmin so it would last the whole race)
Fenix HP11 headlamp (270
lumens)
