2003 MMTR

Eric Grossman

I said I'd finish the part of my bio about the thing I'm most proud of after the 2003 Mountain Masochist Trail Run. So here it is:

My world is back in order. For 5 years something's been askew, off-kilter, out-of-whack, or just tilted funny. I blamed Horton.

I ran competitive track and cross-country throughout high school and college. After graduation, I dabbled with road racing and ran a couple of decent marathons. While working on my doctorate, I thru-hiked the AT in two sections. Even bisected, hiking that length of trail is so protracted an
experience that it feels a lot like training. Lots of training. So when I climbed down from Katahdin, I wondered what I had been training for. Naturally I'd heard about the fella that had run the length of the trail in fifty some days. I'd also heard about his trail race [I didn't know anything
about an ultra "scene"]. The pieces seemed to fit...I'd get back into running for a couple of months...and combined with my pumped up hiking-legs would fly fifty miles through the not-so-gnarly Virginia mountains. I had hiked fifty miles in a day, with my pack, twice, during my thru-hike. This time I wouldn't have to carry my stuff! This wasn't pie in the sky.

I didn't know, nor had I heard of, any of the other entrants in the 1998 Mountain Masochist Trail Run [the top five finishers were Courtney Campbell, Eric Clifton, Ian Torrence, Tom Possert, and Scott Jurek]. I did ask a local ultra-guy (Jose Wilke) about his running, but his training pace was so much slower than I intended to run I wasn't sure how applicable his advice was. I decided I could figure it out for myself. How hard could it be?

The race destroyed me. I ran, pretty strongly, for 32 miles. My calves locked up, however, on the uphill leading into "the loop." I hobbled gingerly through the loop and then gimped desperately through the "second half" of the race. I felt every muscle fiber in my lower legs as each tore  in succession until none were left intact. Ed Kostak joined me in my misery as we hobbled to the finish together in what would seem like a respectable tie for 8th. The place wasn't the issue. I had come to conquer the mountain but the mountain left me on my knees. Horton made fun of me when I tried to get up to get my award. If he had followed me home he could have laughed for weeks. I left feeling like running such events was, well, masochistic. So I stopped running, finished my doctorate, got married, and had 2 kids. I honestly never missed the running.

Last year Louisville inaugurated a Derby Festival Marathon. The course went through our beautiful Olmstead Parks. I decided to come "out of retirement,"
train for a few months, and run the marathon. It was like coming out of a psychotic episode. I was beginning to feel like myself again! Road running was not enough to completely bring me out of my fog, however. That's right, I needed altitude, dirt, and rock. I began to do all my training off-road.
Our family moved to within a half-mile of a large park with miles of trails. As the fog cleared, it dawned on me that I had to go back to the Virginia mountains and run every one of those 50+ Horton miles upright. This time I'd come prepared.

My training schedule began with the Berryman trail marathon in Missouri this Spring, then went to West Virginia for the Highland Sky 40 mile race, then
on to Minnesota for my first 50 since retiring [DNF], then to Michigan for a 50 mile "Dance with Dirt," and finally back to Virginia. Each race taught me
something different about ultra strategy. And each race made me feel more like myself. I've never been happy trying to run fast down a long flat road. And short races don't prove anything. If the race can be counted in minutes, its too short.

My wife and I left the kids with their grandparents and drove to Virginia. I reverently thought about the 9000 feet of climb as we approached the mountains. I had developed my technique with care: short jogging strides all the way up, touching down a heel except for extremely steep climbs. No breakfast. No solid food. Continuous sipping of liquids. Beer the night before.

The race proceeded so close to plan that there's really no point describing it. After the initial road section in the dark, I only saw one runner, Dave Mackey of Colorado. He passed me, dropped trou', then passed me again (feeling lighter than ever I suppose). I never saw Sean Andrish (also passed by Mackey). My wife traded me bottles at the aid stations so I wouldn't have to stop. The weather, like the race organization, was perfect for running. I can't really imagine a more perfect run...although after talking at length with Dink Taylor (who finished 4th) it turns out maybe I slowed more than necessary to pee.

So I feel like a trail runner now. Sure I'm sore. And sure Horton still made fun of the way I walked as my legs tightened afterwards. But now, five years later, I'm planning my next ultra (and several after that). That's the wayit should be.