I am happy to report that this past weekend concluded my second and best season yet.  With Jeremiah as my trusted captain, I navigated the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia in the autumnal classic, Mountain Masochist Trail Run. 

We are often asked the question, “What did you do this weekend?”

On Saturday I awoke at 4:30 am in a Best Western in Lynchburg, VA to one of the four alarms set by good family friend Jeremiah.  Two hours later, I and 250 other runners set out in the dark on our individual adventure, challenge and mission:  The Mountain Masochist 50 Mile trail run, up, down, across and along the Blue Ridge Mountains. 

In complete darkness, under a brightly speckled sky, we huddled, stretched, ate, drank, and waited for what lay ahead.  For me it was unknown.  This event would be both a new distance for me, along with the challenge of course renowned for its four phantom miles and infamous, energetic director, David Horton, who this summer ran the Pacific Coast Trail (2,666 miles in 66 days!). 

Those to finish would climb 8,000 feet and descend 6,000, travel along beautiful hiking trails, with rugged, technical sections, take in grand, stunning, scenic views, indulge in the sweetest, saltiest snacks at aid stations, cross streams and arrive in Montebello, VA - population 100, a post office and general store.

Unceremoniously, in the casual style embraced by the ultra trailrunning community, the race began.  Guided by those running with flashlights, the first five miles were along the Blue Ridge Parkway.  After this prologue, we wouldn’t see pavement again until one mile from the finish – which, with the sky lightening, the temperature rising and the reality of what lay ahead sinking in, seemed more like a thought than a place.

Approaching the mile 5 checkpoint aid station, I spotted Jeremiah scanning approaching runners through binoculars.  Once he saw me he ran towards me, ready, eager and apparently thrilled to perform his handler duties.  He handed me fresh bottles and asked if I still wanted to change from my road to trail shoes as we had discussed the night before.  Across the bridge, at the car were the shoes, laid out, ready to go.  And so I entered the trails.

I soon came up to a man who I recognized from the pre-race dinner.  He was singled out in front of the entire crowd.  He was Tom Green and you were almost supposed to know who he was; the only person to complete every Mountain Masochist run, 22 consecutive and counting.  Among his other astonishing accomplishments, he is the first person to complete the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning – finishing the 4 most grueling 100 milers in the US – in one calendar year.  

David Horton recommended that all rookies and anyone trying to finish run with him – because he always finds the finish.  I took that advice for about 10 miles.  The pace was comfortable and listening to him and his stories was easy.  He had great ones; conquests, vindication, and failures.  What stood out at the time was that he, the reliable mailman of ultrarunning, had in fact pulled out of his first ultra.  I didn’t want to have to use that example in explaining my day.  The time and miles past.  He said he wasn’t expecting a great day.  At an aid station we became separated but I am happy to report that he would finish in time.

The aid stations came and went and at most of them Jeremiah was there.  With fresh bottles and the ‘treasure trove’, full of sweets, candy, bars, chocolate and beef jerky.  “How many bottles do you need?  Are your feet OK?” and with a powerful “Go Daniel!” he ushered me back into the trail.  Jeremiah is the best handler anyone could ask for.  An experienced and accomplished endurance athlete himself, he knew what I was experiencing and what I needed.  It was reassuring knowing that I would be seeing him roughly every hour.  After running on the trail, often alone, or with other wilting spirits, his freshness and energy was invigorating.

Almost unknowingly, I reached mile 22, at which point my pre-race strategy called for me to be feeling good, both physically and mentally.  I was.  I was still feeling light and mentally positive.  I knew that it was crucial to be in this psycho-physiological state, because the next 9 miles would be a struggle, almost all uphill, including the feared, spirit-breaking ascent to Buck Mountain, mile 31. 

I arrived at the base of the mountain (26.9 – the half way point, which claims 70% of all dropouts) still feeling good.  That changed within three minutes, when I three runners passed me, on their way down the climb.  Their day was done.  It was a bad omen.  I walked the entire mountain and ate into a lot of the time cushion I had built up.  There were three of us near each other on our walk up.  We didn’t say a word for almost an hour.  I had to actively suppress the doom, which was incubating in my head.  This section took a mental as well as physical toll.  But as my scouting report predicted, at my most desperate moment I heard what I was waiting for…the theme song to Rocky.  That meant the summit aid station; bananas, oranges, salt, Advil, cookies Snickers and M&Ms were near.  Seriously challenging moments were still to come, but this mini-success was graciously accepted.  Just 20 or so miles left to go.

Reaching Buck Mountain meant a two-mile respite before entering another fabled and feared section of the race – The Loop – 5 miles of technical single track that “makes or breaks your day.”  I was really looking forward to entering the loop because I knew that emerging would put me at 38 miles conquered…and as Tom Green shared, “then you are too close to consider not finishing.”  But the beginning part of the loop was taxing – uphill and rocky.  Without turning around, and abandoning, the only way out the loop was to press on.  About half way through the loop Jeremiah came bounding through the woods to meet me and escort me through the loop.  He brought with him rejuvenating energy and good news – it was downhill for the rest of the loop.  Emerging from the loop I was feeling terrific.  They had great gingerbread cookies.  I was off, inspired that my pre-race strategy was on plan. 

Three miles later (41.5) was the final aid station that I would see Jeremiah.  Fully stocked, I took on a 1.5-mile uphill section, walking with some familiar faces from throughout the day.  We arrived at the mile 43 aid station 45 minutes ahead of the cutoff time.  But we had heard about this next ‘4’ miles.  The final test of the day: Another single-track section, which would deliver us to the other side of a mountain.  We soon came to realize that it was longer than 4 miles.  In this section, frustration, angst and a bit of despair festered amongst the troop of us traveling together.  We took turns passing each other, as individually, we walked or ran, depending on what we were capable of.  Along this section I was experiencing some stomach discomfort, which made it difficult to run (imagine eating two days worth of food in 10 hours…while running). 

The splendor of a 360-degree view meant that we had crested the climb.  Montebello and the finish were below us, as was David Horton waiting to greet every finisher personally.  The climbing was done.  The final 3 downhill, under measured miles, were a pleasure.  Jeremiah met me with about a mile and a half to go.  We ran for a bit and then he ran ahead to the finish to snap a picture.  Unlike the final miles of a 50k I ran in California in August, I wasn’t angry, hostile or bitter.  I had enjoyed myself and smiled as I crossed the line.  Met by Horton, I thanked him for a perfectly organized event and for the opportunity. 

Stretching and eating the most decedent and ill matched snacks (think beef jerky, dark chocolate chilly, and a sticky bun eaten in succession) I watched familiar faces finish until the final runner came across the line.  194 would finish within time.  Still four more would come across the line a few minutes late, having nonetheless completed an immense adventure, flirting with the time limit all day and refusing the stop.

Starting in darkness makes the run seem even longer than the 11 hours and 10 minutes spent in the woods, especially as the sun began to set on the final runners.  The evolution from night to midday sun to dusk symbolizes the range of emotions experienced, from optimistic to overwhelmed, to unsure, to doubt, and then relief and finally satisfaction and elation.  The day could not have gone any better.  So many things have to go right to finish a race like this, from hydration and nutrition, to feet holding up, to general health and injury avoidance and also cooperative weather.  All of these things exceed my expectation.

Sometimes the answer is a little more involved.

With this race I am done for 2005…I am excited to see what next year has in store