Race Report

The clock was ticking, the line to the four porta potties was moving slowly, the sky was clear, the wind was brisk, the woods were full of lights of others who couldn’t wait any longer, the air was cool, and the excited tension was slowly increasing.  With not a moment of time to spare, it was back to the tent, to discard my jacket, and await the start.  The invocation was started before I got to the starting line, so I stopped, knelt in the grass, and bowed humbly before the Creator, agreeing with the race director’s prayer, offering my body and soul to God in sacrificial praise.  The Star Spangled Banner was sung, by Jeanie Craig, (not the diet woman) and off we went into the darkness.   While waiting in line at the porta potties, a young man, answered my question of how steep the beginning incline was, by saying it was “runnable”, but maybe not “advisable”.  I was soon to realize it may have been runnable for some, but not for me, so I settled into a fast walk.  It was to be a 2.67-mile steep ascent just to get started.  We continued walking, in the slowly increasing light, passing some very nice hunting camps, and year round houses, and eventually made it to the first aid station, where a large box was already full of discarded headlamps.  (Lots of people had gone before me, and not as many were behind me).  The ascent continued, and eventually leveled off on a very grassy, forest road, that cut across the mountain slopes.  It was one of most memorable portions of any run.  The birds were beginning their morning mating calls, the sun was breaking through, the sky was clear, pollen was causing us to hack and wheeze, the grass was green, and the people friendly. 

I took the time to down another gel pack, just prior to the second aid station as I was out of water and it isn’t good to eat them without some fluid.  I was already getting hungry and was really looking forward to some water. The two girls who were womanning the aid station were friendly and smiling, but their words were unimaginable.  “Sorry, but the gate was locked and we could not bring any water”.  “There is a creek there, and you can fill your bottles in the creek”.  (Oh, yeah.  That’s what I need.  Some bacteria in my belly).  I thought, Dave Horton, you are paying us back for eating too much pizza.  She politely said, “it is only 4.9 miles to the next aid station where there will be plenty of water”.  There was no use complaining, as it would just burn up more energy so off I went, and I didn’t heard a discouraging, complaining word. 

This section was surrounded by Mountain Laurel, and was very pleasant to run/walk through, but not as level as I had hoped.  It had a good ascent, and took a very long time to make it to the next aid station.  After going so long and so far without fluid the aid station was a welcome sight.  The water was icy cold and refreshing.  Too much so.  It had been a long time coming.  The water was so cold, I had a hard time drinking it as my throat constricted with the fluid.  After filling my hand held water bottle, away I went down into the valley, not realizing I was going all the way down into the valley that stretched below me.  I prayed for my feet to be like ‘hinds feet’. I made the very long descent along the technical (rock filled) trail to the bottom of the valley.  I kept moving, but not too fast, but fast enough.  All along the trail was a rushing mountain stream, and the woods were deep and silent.  It was also warming up, as the valley was blocked from the wind.  Near the bottom I approached and passed a young woman, who was walking and I stopped to ask if she was okay. She replied, that no, she wasn’t and was having bad stomach cramps and wasn’t feeling too well.  I told her I didn’t have anything to help, and kept on.  I also noticed the heat was affecting my own digestive system, and realized the pizza was beginning to talk to me. 

At the aid station a curious thing happened, after I informed them that a woman was coming who needed something for her stomach.  At the same time, another woman ran into the aid station.  I had not seen her before and she had eyes blazing with the fire of competition, and was radiating an aura of ‘get out of my way, you back of the packer, don’t you know that I am trying to win this thing’.  I immediately thought, “What is up with her”.  Why have such an attitude when you are back in the pack with the rest of us.  She left the aid station going in a different direction than I did, and I just thought it was that she had to go to the bathroom, or something.  I asked an aid station worker which way to go, and he asked if it was my first time.  “Yes”, I replied, not knowing he was asking a different question than I thought he was.  I though he was asking if it was my first time running the course. I didn’t know what it mattered if it was my first time or fifth time running the course. I assumed it was just to satisfy his curiosity of why I didn’t know where to go.  (I would later discover the true meaning of his question). He pointed me on down the road, and away I went.  The road paralleled a really nice creek, and realized I was now in the bottom of the valley I had glanced at from the Sunset Fields overlook.  I remember a sign saying it was six miles to I-81. You may have heard of Mexico’s Montezuma’s revenge, well, I was about to experience the equivalent of the Horton Hell for eating his pizza.  I was so thankful that I loaded up on tissue that was safely stored in my zip lock bag.  I was glad for good quad strength, as I would be crouched in that position for a very long time.  Thankfully, the age of miracles has not ceased, as a miracle of solitude was experienced along that portion where there were no good places to hide. 

Now, began what I thought was the final ascent up the mountain.  It was long, and it was tiring, but doable.  On the ascents, if I passed someone, I would say, “hey, the person back there said you were giving piggy back rides”.  I could find no takers.  On one ascent as I passed a limping man, with the piggyback ride question, he said, “no, but I need one”, as he informed me he had pulled a calf muscle.  Not a good thing.  Then the ascent leveled and a descent began.  My heart sank as it slowly dawned on me, that this was not the final ascent, but yet another very long descent.  Bummer!  I will read the trail map better next time.  After an unhappy descent, I now approached the aid station that I had passed two hours earlier.  Then, the revelation hit me.  The woman who had the fire of competition in her eyes, whom I had met at this very same aid station, was two hours ahead of me, and was indeed a front-runner, and I was indeed in her way.  Oops.  Sorry about that. 

By way of perspective:  The famous Heartbreak Hill at the Boston Marathon comes a little after the 20^th mile and climbs a little over 150 ft of elevation.  At this point in this race, you are almost 24 miles into the race, following thousands of feet of elevation change, facing 2000 ft. of elevation ascent.  If the hill in Boston is called Heartbreak, this mountain is a Heart Attack.  All along this ascent out of the valley of poop was a fast flowing stream, which led up to a gorgeous demonstration of creations beauty, a huge waterfall.  Although it was the most difficult of all the portions of the run, it was also the most beautiful and a demonstration of the grace of God in action.  The long, hard ascent out of the valley had been filled with beauty.  I then began marching up some very well made steps.  Forever, and ever, and ever, amen. 

I met a woman perched atop a large boulder who had the very anxious look of a wife, who kept scanning the woods for her husband.  When I saw her worried look, I was convinced it was a good idea to not have my wife come to these things.  I remembered from the pre race dinner that she looked like the wife of the man whom I had passed hours earlier who had a pulled calf muscle.  I wasn’t certain, so I didn’t say anything.  Two people passed me, and then two more and I didn’t care.  I was just glad to be making forward progress.  I ask the next person that passes if we are going to make it to the aid station before the cutoff time. She said, “Oh, yeah, you already passed that long ago.  You are way ahead of the cutoff time.” That was good news. 

More people pass me, and I still don’t care.  All I care about was that I am beginning to see the top of the ridge and I am making constant forward motion. I can feel my heart thumping, and I monitor my pace to keep it from overloading.  I finally break through the woods, and walk backwards for a moment, and take in the view of what we just left behind.  Not a good idea, but it felt good to look back and see how far I had come.  It was breathtaking and awe inspiring to look down into the valley I had just walked out of.  Wow!  If I didn’t do it myself, I wouldn’t believe it could be done.  I refilled my water bottle and was told it was all down hill from there.  They were wrong.  I passed through a nice patch of mountain laurel and ran in solitude for a good while.  The temperature was beginning to climb, and the bees were fairly active through the laurel.  As the path finally began to descend, I hoped against hope that it was truly down hill all the rest of the way.  It was.

A female runner, whom we had passed each other numerous times all day, passed me one final time.  She was excellent on the downhills and I told her so.  I took one last refill at the last aid station and was now on the road that led to the finish line.  Only a little less than three miles away was the finish.  By now it was beginning to warm up, and I had stopped sweating, so I kept pouring water down my neck, and kept on moving.  I again remembered the words a member of our prayer group had spoken over me the Wednesday night prior.  After prayer, she felt the Lord told her that I would do better on this race than any of the others I had run. It wasn’t the time that was better, but for the sheer magnitude of the race, the word of knowledge was true, and it would be my best race ever.  I was afraid of cramps to fully run, but stayed in a steady gait, and the emotion of realizing that I was going to finish in a good time (for me) was actually going to happen.  I remembered that a month earlier, I was so injured I couldn’t walk, much less jog, and I again thanked the Lord. My main mental focus that day was another word from the Lord from the prayer group, which was, “the joy of the Lord will be your strength”.  The 8 hours plus of running was filled with prayer in the spirit and meditation on this scripture from Nehemiah.    As I turned a final bend in the road, I could see the banner that marked the finish line.  Only then did I open my emotion to accept that I was almost done.  As I hit the grassy field, the race director announced my name.  I don’t know if entrance into heaven is like this, but to hear your name called as you finish the endurance race that was set before me, with the applause of the crowd, was a spiritual experience for me. 

I stumbled under the pavilion and just sat there soaking it all in.  (I get a little emotional once I am done, and am not embarrassed to admit, that I shed some tears.) I live in Vienna, Va. home of a very famous hot dog, made by the Vienna Inn, but the absolute best hot dog I have ever had was the fresh grilled, chili topped, mustard tinted, love-cooked hot dog Mrs. Horton and her crew was serving up.  (Thank you Mrs. Horton and crew).  I downed a fully loaded hamburger, chilidog, fruit, chips, cookie and drink, yet was still hungry.  My wife and I enjoyed our lunch, and the conversation with the others at our table and reminisced about the run.  I expressed my appreciation to Mrs. Horton and crew, and I picked out my finishing award (a pair of shorts), and began the process of transitioning back to the real world.  The showers were broken, and we were told to try out the creek for our bath.  So into the creek I went.  It was cold, very cold, very, very cold, but awesomely good.  I am a little on the modest side of life, so I just kept my running clothes on, and just laid back in the creek and soaked for a while, reminiscing of the events of the last eight hours.  After a scrub and fresh clothes, we packed up the tent, loaded up the car and took a short tour of some more beautiful country on the way back home. 

Thank you Dave and Mrs. Horton and all your crew for a great race.

Craig Burns

The last person in the LUS standings.  Oh yeah!