McKay Hollow Madness 25K, March 28, 2015

The Madness

Prologue

"We run and race for myriad reasons -- competition, fitness, adventure, challenge, the list goes on.  I imagine some, if not most, are like me...I often wonder if I am chasing something or running from something.  I suspect it's a bit of both.  Either way, run until your heart is full and you can find peace."

-DeWayne Satterfield

Mountain Mist 50K Race Report

Ultrarunning magazine, April 2015 issue

McKay Hollow

As runners, we all know that life has a funny way of intersecting with our running.  I realize that sounds a little funny.  I certainly recognize that running is part of my life, but I also know that in many instances running serves as a catharsis to deal with  life's pitfalls and challenges.   I arrived at the start of the McKay Hollow 25K this year with what I can only describe as a heavy heart.  I'm not going to bore you with the details, but in some form, I suspect we've all been there.  On this day, I needed McKay Hollow not only to serve as a challenging run, but to serve as a mechanism to clear my head and heart and to get me reoriented.   That's a lot to ask from the trails of Monte Sano, but a run through the woods has never ceased to rejuvenate and refocus me.

The Race Begins

Besides at least three RD's over the years, the McKay Hollow Madness course has gone through more incarnations than the late Michael Jackson.  It started as a trail half marathon, and then for one year it got extended to a 14 mile course, and once it became a 25K, the course still went through a tweak or two.   But one thing has held constant -- this race has always been centered around some of the most challenging trails that Monte Sano Mountain has to offer.

Cary Long was serving as the the new Race Director this year, taking over from Blake Thompson. Cary made a few logistical announcements about the course, conducted a quick trivia contest centered around his hemorrhoids, and led us in prayer -- seriously, you can't make this stuff up - from hemorrhoid trivia to a prayer -- welcome to The Wonderful World of Cary, or CaryLand, or DollyLong, you pick......anyway, the race started and we were off!

(Race Director, Cary Long, yelling at children to get off the see-saws)

Start to Aid Station 1, O'Shaughnessy Point, 5.1 miles

We started at the main pavilion in the State Park and after a run down the road and brief sections of the North Plateau Trail and more road, we took a turn down the North Sinks Trail head and the real trail race was underway.   I clocked an 8:35 for the first mile, but once we started down the trail, I was stuck in a "runner train" and my pace fell back to 11:20 for a period.

(Trying to find the trail head)

After moving down the Sinks trail, we hit the Logan Point trail and took that to Panther Knob.  This section presents a real tough climb on all fours, and for a tall guy like myself, you are pretty much guaranteed a head to rock encounter as you squeeze through a section of climb where you are pretty sure you are not supposed to go.  The first year I covered this section of the race I was sure I had taken a wrong turn moving through the stone cuts.  Nope, you really are supposed to crawl through, and up this thing.

When I got to the top of the climb, the course goes back to the Sinks trail and down a section of the Mountain Mist trail.

Eventually I made it over to Warpath Ridge and more climbing up to the first Aid Station at O'Shaughnessy Point.  I topped off my bottle and grabbed a cup of Mountain Dew (the miracle elixir).  I downed a Hammer gel  as I made my way down the South Plateau Trail towards the McKay Hollow trail. (And I held onto the gel wrapper until I passed a volunteer who took it from me.  Don't leave junk on the trails.  That's my sermon for the week.)

Aid Station 1 to Aid Station 2, Monte Sano Boulevard at Burritt, 9.8 miles

Coming off the South Plateau Trail, I took a sharp turn on the McKay Hollow trail which plunges down into ????...you guessed it, the Hollow.  Once at the bottom, the trail becomes very muddy.   I actually made pretty good time through this section, recalling Rob Youngren's time honored advice -- "Embrace the Mud." I ran with Don Alan Hankins through this section.  Don Alan is the RD for Dizzy 50's and has done a great job with that trail race.   Chad Woods also ran with us during this section.  I busted somewhere along the way and they both kept motoring towards really nice finishes.

(Yeah, I don't know where I am, but that's a photo of me somewhere on Monte Sano.  I'm sporting my Johnny Cash, "Man in Black" look.)

I was glad to get to Arrowhead and the Arrowhead extension trail.   The extension section is one of the most scenic trails on Monte Sano.  It is beautiful single track where you can open it up a bit and really run.   I made the most of it.  I took advantage of some runners behind me to push myself through this section.

Again, with tough trails to navigate, it is always nice to reach an Aid Station.  I dropped another Nuun tablet into my water bottle and got a big handful of peanut butter filled pretzels -- SuperFood.

Aid Station 2 to the Finish, Overlook Pavilion, 25K (15.5 miles)

This next section of the course eventually takes you down the Natural Well trail to the newly revitalized Son of a Bitch Ditch.   SOB ditch had been severely washed out with storms over the past few years and was littered with huge, downed trees which made crossing it very hazardous (picture unstable land, susceptible to slides, with huge, downed trees sitting on top of it all.)  Over time, the land settled a bit and with the use of some chain saws, jackhammers, and other tools, a local Girl Scout Troop carved out a nice path through the debris -- (I might not be exactly right about that....they may have used hand axes.)  So, this year, instead of bushwhacking around the ditch, we were able to once again run this section.  Granted, it still lives up to its name.

(A photo of the Troop after fixing SOB Ditch.  Thanks, girls! You're each going to receive an SOB merit badge! )

Eventually, the course takes you back to Arrowhead trail and I was able to pick up a little steam again.   At this point, Rick Callaway and my running nemesis, Sam the dog,  caught up with me. Sam is Rick's trail running buddy and only friend.   Sam beat me at Dizzy 50 and I could sense he smelled blood in the water this time as well.  This was my longest run since the Graveyard 100, and my legs were already starting to feel like noodles.   Sam was just waiting for the right moment.

(Sam -- Don't be fooled by his friendly face.  He's a cutthroat racer.)

As Sam continued to breath down my neck, I was trying to pick up my pace down a violently smooth section of trail.  At that point it happened, I tripped on the idea of a rock and went down.   Sam passed me, shook some drool on me and was about to hike a leg until Rick called him down.  Thanks, Rick! Sam put another notch in his little orange running pack.

Forget "STOP PRE,"  I want a "STOP SAM" t-shirt!

I finally made it to the bottom of Death Trail and started the climb up.   Dianna Cioppi, my new Death Trail best buddy was right behind me for the climb.   We passed the Happy HEMSI guy who was shouting encouragement to us as we made our way up.  He encouraged us to be careful as we got higher up the trail, due to the sheer side of the path, but he said, "You runner's never listen anyway," or something like that.   I just thanked him for calling us runners, because we weren't exactly running at that point.

We finally got up to the waterfall and made it across the finish line at the Overlook Pavilion.  Overall, it was a gratifying finish.  I finished in 3:25:04, which was a McKay Hollow 25K PR for me.  It's not the best time in the world, but hey, me and my wobbly legs will take it.

   

Final Thoughts

I started this report with the fact that I came into this race struggling.  I can't say it fixed everything, but I do believe in the healing power of a good run, of a hard physical challenge.   It can help establish perspective; it can erase frustration, and it is a great and cheap life coach.   If anything, the long run is always a reminder of the old saying that life is a marathon, not a sprint.   There is so much opportunity in all aspects of life, if you just take the long view.

  

     

Graveyard 100, March 7, 2015

Rising from the Wreckage

Brandon Wilson, the Race Director for The Graveyard 100 likes to point out that over 1000 ships have sunk off the coast of the Outer Banks of North Carolina, thus the name -- The Graveyard of the Atlantic.  To the runners who sign up for this race, he asks one question, "Will you be next?"

In 2012, I signed up for this race in an attempt to complete my first 100 mile run.   There are several 100 milers that bill themselves as good courses for those looking to finish their first 100.   This isn't one of them.   This course is challenging.  It's a point to point run from Corolla to Hatteras, NC, down a narrow strip of seashore known as the Outer Banks, with water on both sides.   It's run completely on blacktop, with total exposure all day long.  For a trail runner accustomed to the coverage of a canopy for the majority of a race, this was a rude awakening.  

So, in 2012 the S.S. Hendrick started taking on water around mile 40 in the form of blisters on the bottom of my feet, and by the 3rd Aid Station around mile 62, my feet were totally wrecked, and I was struggling big time.   I made it out of the Aid Station and continued on, but did not make it to the final Aid Station at mile 87 under the cut off.  I sank.

I learned a lot from that first attempt.   I was too heavy and needed to lose some weight and get my food choices under control; I had not trained nearly enough -- relying on training that would be appropriate for a 12 hour, timed run.   I picked the wrong shoe.   I really liked Brooks Green Silence. It was a light weight trainer and I'd run a half and full marathon in them, with no problems. Also, I'd read where Scott Jurek had set the American 24 hour record in them.   I had a rude awakening on the Outer Banks of North Carolina in 2012 -- I was not exactly built like Scott Jurek.   I needed way more shoe for 100 miles on asphalt.

As time marched on, I finished my first 100 miler at Thunder Rock, which is run through the Cherokee National Forest in Tennessee.   As satisfying as that was, I could not shake the DNF monkey off my back from Graveyard.   Finally, in the summer of 2014, I decided I would head back to the GY 100 and get my buckle.    However, I knew I had to do things totally different than before, and I couldn't rely on the type of trail running I had used as my primary source of training for Thunder Rock.

New Day, New Plan

I knew Rob and Kathy Youngren had run some of the most grueling road ultras out there, including Spartathlon and Badwater. They also have a consulting business and will work with runners on putting together training plans geared to their specific situation and race goal.   Long story short, they put together an awesome plan for me and I stuck to it.

I started the plan in September 2014, and as time progressed, I saw the benefits taking shape very early -- going below 4 hours on a marathon for the first time on my 12th attempt, setting an overall 50K PR at Recover From the Holidays, and setting a course PR at Mountain Mist 50K.

I knew the plan was working and that knowledge kept me going through the very cold runs in January and February.

Finally, I found the "right tool for the job" in the form of a "maximalist" shoe.   There are a lot of good ones on the market today, but I settled on the Hoka Bondi for the majority of my training runs, and the Hoka Clifton, which is a little lighter, but still very cushioned, for races.

Graveyard 2015

I wound up arriving at the Hotel in Duck, North Carolina, that was serving as the race HQ, on Thursday, prior to the race on Saturday.   I had to leave Huntsville a day earlier than planned to beat an ice storm that was forecast.   It worked out great because I was able to have dinner that night with Brandon and Heather Wilson, and Kelley Wells, the eventual women's winner.  Brandon was able to give me some updates on the course that had changed since 2012.   I also found out that Brandon has taken over RD responsibilities for Laurel Valley...Hmmmmm.  Something to ponder on another day.
,
Fast Forward to the Race Start (Start to Aid Station 1 ~mile 21.4, Southern Shores Vol. Fire Dept.)

After the National Anthem, the race started promptly at 5:00 am (EST) on Saturday morning in Currituck Park, next to the Light House.  We first ran 2 miles north where the road dead ends into the ocean in Corolla, and then we turned south for the duration of the race.

Currituck Lighthouse (stock photo - we started before daylight)

I fell in with a runner named, Tony Trigg.  I learned that Tony was in the Navy and had run several 100K's and this was his first 100.   Tony and I were running about a 9:20 to 9:30 pace.   I knew this was little fast for me, but I also subscribe to the notion that you should make hay while the sun is shining.   I knew I would just be hanging on towards the end, so I didn't sweat this pace too much.   We made it through the second and third water stops and always seemed to catch up to each other afterward.  I was fortunate to have a crew this time meeting me at water stops to help with snacks, gels, etc.  It makes a difference.  We were running through the picturesque resort town of Duck, North Carolina, and I knew that I should soak up the scenery, because it would soon change.

We ran to the Southern Shores Volunteer Fire Station that served as the first Aid Station and I made a pretty quick turnaround.   I probably only spent 2 or 3 minutes.   As I got started, I didn't see Tony, so I pressed on.

Aid Station 1 to Aid Station 2 ~ 40.9 miles, Nags Head

I ran from Aid 1 to Aid 2 on my own.   The GY 100 has a cap of 100 runners, and only 90 towed the line for the start, so as you can imagine, it thins out pretty quickly.   The limited number of runners, plus the reality of the OBX during the off season, gives rise to the tag line for the GY 100 - "We Specialize in Isolation."   Don't get me wrong, the first half of the race is run through civilization, it is just pretty sparse.  I took advantage of this time, to back my pace down to 9:55 to 10:20.  

I made it through water stops in Kitty Hawk and Kill Devil Hills.  As I passed the Wright brothers museum, the Huntsvillian in me could not help but appreciate that I was running across the hallowed ground that gave birth to powered flight.  My moment of nerd.

Anyway, I pulled into Aid Station 2 at the South Nags Head Fire Station feeling pretty good.   I did go against my cardinal rule -- I sat down.   But, I used the opportunity to eat a hot cup of potato soup and get some other food down.   It really revitalized me, and I was off.

Aid Station 2 to Aid Station 3 ~ 62.9 miles, Rodanthe

After leaving Aid Station 2, I continued down Highway 12 and could see the Bodie Island Lighthouse on my right.  In 2012, we actually ran out to the lighthouse and back, but due to the new route at the beginning, picking up those miles is no longer necessary.  I got a surge of adrenaline knowing that I was approaching the halfway point.   The halfway point comes roughly at the Bonner Bridge, which spans two miles and in my view, connects civilization with the desolate landscape of the Cape Hatteras National Sea Shore.   It is sand dunes and more sand dunes.  You know how a national forest is primarily unmolested acres and acres of wilderness, a national seashore is the same thing -- only with sand and water and the occasional pavilion.  Beautiful, but desolate.

Bodie Island Lighthouse (stock photo)

Bonner Bridge - Halfway Point (stock photo)

Cape Hatteras National Sea Shore

The day was definitely catching up to me as I saw the town of Rodanthe rising up on the horizon. The small towns of Rodanthe, Waves, and Salvo are seamlessly connected and are the oasis in the middle of the seashore.  The 3rd Aid Station is located at the  Rodanthe Community Center.   I know I took a full 20 minutes at this Aid Station.   I needed real food, and my stomach was not in great shape.   I sipped some ginger ale to settle it.   I really had to get right with the world at this point.  It was undoubtedly my low point.  I never doubted that I was going to be able to finish, but I also knew I had to get my stomach back in line.

Picture of Diane Lane from the movie, "Nights in Rodanthe."  She was not at the Aid Station.

I  think time, real food, and ginger ale worked for me, and I was able to pick up my pace leaving Rodanthe and made really good time to the next water stop which was about 4.5 miles down the road.  The sun had set and I had made the change to my night running gear.   Because the roads of Graveyard are not closed, in addition to a headlamp, you have to wear a light on your back as well as reflective clothing.   This is a rule put in place for the safety of the runners and it is also required by the U.S. Park Service.

Aid Station 3 to Aid Station 4, mile 87.3,  Hatteras Light House

The cruel thing about a lighthouse at night, is that you can see it for miles and miles away.   I know this is a good thing for ships, but for a Graveyard runner, you know that the last Aid Station is located in the parking lot of the lighthouse, but you run, and run, and run and it never seems to get closer. It is always at the end of the road and it is very bright!

So, you take solace in the beautiful full moon that is rising to your left and the magnificent stars overhead, totally free of any glare caused by the lights of a town -- because other than the occasional road light, it is dark out on the Hatteras National Sea Shore --- with the exception of the light house and it's beam that rhythmically sweeps around.   It becomes your companion for 20 miles or so before you ever reach it.

   

Hatteras Lighthouse (stock photo)

Around mile 30 or so, I had implemented a run/walk strategy -- I would run 2 miles and then walk for 20 to thirty yards and then pick it up again.  If I was feeling good, I would sometimes skip the walk and run for 4 miles, slowing my pace if needed but maintaining a run.   As I passed the 75 mile mark, I degenerated to a run of a little over a mile, followed by my standard walk.   A flat course is a little challenging with regard to finding the right balance.   On a trail run, the terrain often dictates your walk or power hike strategy, but on an ultra distance road run, you've got to experiment and figure out what works best for you.  I had been able to try a few things during my training runs, and I decided to get away from specific timed intervals and focus on the distance of my run between walks. That approach worked for me.

My old stomach problems were still nagging me a bit.  I yacked at a water stop along the way and realized it was time for a change.  Nuun and Hammer Gels had served me well through most of the run, but as many of you know, you reach a point when you can't stomach any more sports drink of any kind and you can't face eating another gel.  So, I switched to water and Endurolyte caps for my electrolyte needs.  My stomach settled and I was good for the remainder of the run. 

I finally made the turn and headed out to the Hatteras Lighthouse.   This was a huge moment for me. It was at this spot in 2012, when the RD pulled up in a van beside me to let me know my race was over.   However, as I approached the final Aid Station this year, I was more than 7 hours under the cutoff. I can't begin to express how good that felt.   My brain was dancing with that reality, but my body was in need of some real food, so again, I took a little time to eat some potato soup, and get some ginger ale down.  I also ran into Tony Trigg at this Aid Station; it's the first time we'd crossed paths since our initial run together early in the race.  Tony was taking a little time to get right, but he finished strong.   As I left the Aid Station, a kind volunteer sent me on my way with a pack of orange Lance peanut butter crackers.  Those little orange things hit the spot.

Aid Station 4 to mile 100.4, The Finish Line at The Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum   

I took a left at the end of the Hatteras Lighthouse road and was on my way to the finish.   Now, anyone that knows me well, knows that I have a terrible sense of direction and I do have a tendency to get lost (reference Thunder Rock 100 race report).   As I ran down the road, I started to get this sinking feeling that I had missed a turn.   Visions of my extra 4.5 miles at Thunder Rock started playing in my head.   I just knew I had messed up again.   There were no runners behind me as far as I could see and no blinking lights ahead of me.  Not good.   However, instead of backtracking as I'd done at Thunder Rock, I decided to stick to my guns and just keep moving.   It paid off.   I came across a crew that had stopped short of the final water stop and I ran over to their truck.  The guys jumped out and said, "Hey man, can we help you?"   I said, "Am I on the right road?"  They said, "Absolutely!  You're doing great.  A few runners came through a few minutes ago.  Just keep going!"  They asked if I needed anything -- food or water?   I told them they gave me all I needed -- peace of mind.

I made the final water stop and didn't slow down that much.   I wish I would have had the sense to trade out my headlamp, because the batteries were just about shot, but all I could think about was pushing to the end.   

Finally, the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum came into view and I could see the finish line.   I made it across the finish line in 22:16:52, 24th overall, 20th male.   90 runners started and 66 finished.   For me, it was sweet, sweet, sweet, redemption.