Masochist Revisited

 

On Saturday, October 15, 2005, I ran Dr. David Horton’s Mountain Masochist Trail Run 50-Miler in the mountains west of Lynchburg, Virginia.  This was my second MMTR; the first time was in 2000--family life and relocations kept me from coming back until this year.  I was excited and happy to be a part of the Masochist family again.

 

Having successfully avoided stepping on the spikes of the many small plastic dinosaurs scattered around our house these days, I departed for Lynchburg Friday afternoon.  I found my friends Michelle (from Canada, who started her ultra career just last year and has traveled to Virginia/WV for several races this year) and Jennifer, who came with a large contingent from WV.  We met up with Cindy from MD (and her wonderfully upbeat friend Jane), and headed off to Heritage High School for registration and dinner.  I bought Neal Jamison’s book, an extra MMTR shirt, had a great dinner, and had fun talking with other runners, including Kevin from NC and Mike from IL at our table, and Chris from VA (whom I hadn’t seen since we ran Swinging Bridge together last December.)  We enjoyed Dr. Horton’s pre-race briefing and the wry Masochist song.  Then we headed off to Kroger for some last minute race needs (Red Bull, bananas, bagels and…wine?) before returning to the hotel and trying to sleep.

 

We were up by 4:00 a.m. and quickly dressed and returned to the high school to catch a school bus to the start (1st rule of MMTR:  Don’t. Be. Late.).  I ate a Pop-Tart and drank a Starbucks Frappucino on the bus (not a breakfast I’ll repeat).  A few more last minute preparations and it was time to head to the starting line.  It was a relatively warm morning…the temperature was in the 50’s and humidity was still high.  I carried a hand-held bottle (brand new from Nathan Sports—Dr. Horton gave several of these out at the pre-race dinner).  I carried Gu, Perpetuem and Succeed caps in the pockets of my RaceReady shorts.  I also wore new Injinji socks, with another thin Ultimax sock on top of them (no blisters!)

 

We started at 6:30, still in the dark on the parkway road for the first short loop. It’s a good feeling to come back by the start and then head off into the dawn, knowing that you’re finally on your way to the day’s adventure.  We encountered the first uphill, and then the first long downhill on this early road portion.  I arrived at the 2nd aid station at 7:32 a.m., just a minute earlier than my time five years ago.  My finishing time then was 11:09; I hoped to break 11 hours today. 

 

In June of this year, I ran the Laurel Highlands 70-miler for the first time since a mile 57 DNF in 2000.  I was shocked at how little of the Laurel Highlands trail I remembered; it was like running the race for the first time.  One might think I would have considered this experience as I prepared for MMTR, but I had just had a good race at GEER 100K in September, and I thought MMTR couldn’t be any harder…after all, it was 12 miles shorter than 100K, right?  Wait, what’s that?  It’s really only eight miles shorter?  And the time allowed is 6 1/2 hours less?  No, these thoughts didn’t occur to me pre-race.  As the day went on, I realized that I remembered only a few small details of the MMTR course.  I had no recollection of all the uphills before you even reach the long climb from the reservoir, nor of the punishing downhills you encounter early on, nor the creeks to cross.  Perhaps ignorance is bliss, however--it was feeling like it was going to be a long day; better not to think of what lies ahead.

 

On the plus side, as always, it was nice to have the chance to run and talk with friends, those I’ve known and those I made that day.  I did a lot of climbing and chatting with Michelle and fellow VHTRC-ers Quatro and Barb.  Trying to keep up with Quatro on the downhills helped me run them much faster than I would have alone.  Physically, though, I wasn’t feeling great; my legs really hurt, my hip flexor would flare up when I started to run, my rib cage was cramping, and my stomach was uncomfortable.  I never have the chance to get much rest in the days before a race; it felt like today was going to be the day when that finally caught up to me.  My short-term goal was to get to Route 60 at mile 26.9 by noon; I reached it about 11:50 a.m. and flopped down in the grass next to my drop bag.  I changed shoes--from Leona Divides into Vitesses for the extra support and protection from rocks.  I re-stocked my supply of Gu, Perpetuem and Succeed caps and grabbed a can of Red Bull from my drop bag.  I was on my way up Buck Mountain at 11:58 a.m.  Next goal—get to the top (mile 29.5) and hope that I would start to feel better on the latter part of the course.

 

Finally hearing those first few faint notes of music, then the full Rocky theme, brought a smile to my face (along with sympathy and admiration for the aid station workers who listen to it over and over).  At the top I took a short break—and a couple of ibuprofen—and hoped for the best.  Next goal:  the Loop at mile 33.  Several people passed me in the next few miles as I struggled to keep moving at a good pace, either walking up or running down. 

 

At the aid station at the start of the Loop, I had a few animal crackers and a cup of Mountain Dew.  And the fog finally lifted…I got on that first section of mossy, level trail, and suddenly, I could run again—pain-free.  And I did, as hard as I could—until it was uphill again.  (How could so much of the Loop be uphill?  And how come I didn’t remember any of it??) 

 

I came out of the loop and ran hard on a long downhill.  I decided not to check the time, but just to enjoy the rest of the day now that I felt pretty good.  It was a beautiful, sunny day and I was very, very grateful for the opportunity and the ability to be running along in the woods.

 

At some point around mile 45 I caught up with Quatro and we leap-frogged back and forth the last five (or nine…) miles.  I reached the last downhill, where there was a large group of children and adults walking back down the hill; I was terrified I would end up doing a face-plant in front of them (mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be trailrunners).  Fortunately I made it safely past and down to the road and caught up to Quatro one more time.  The road!!  The famously accurate “1 Mile To Go” sign!!  The flagpole!!  A big hug from Dr. Horton!!!  It ends, happily, all too soon at 10 hours, 42 minutes.

 

Yet the day’s not over.  There’s the long bus ride back to Lynchburg, and a quick trip back to the hotel for a hot shower and clean clothes.  Back to the high school cafeteria for the delicious post-race dinner, socializing, and awards.  Everyone had a different day out there, and it’s great to trade stories and commiserate with other runners about how blissfully tough the course is.  Finally the day ends, and I try unsuccessfully to get some sleep as my legs think they’re still supposed to be running.   Sunday morning brings more post-race chatter and fellowship at Golden Corral for breakfast before heading back home to my wonderfully understanding husband and kids (and their plastic dinosaurs).

 

Two days later, my recollection of the course is already fuzzy, but the feeling of accomplishment isn’t.  Plus I had fun (or as the saying goes, “it was like having fun, only different”.)   To Dr. Horton, Mrs. Horton, and the many volunteers who make this race happen, thank you so much for your time, effort, and dedication.  MMTR is more than just 50 Horton miles—it’s an ultra-family reunion.  And this time, I’ll be back next year.