Oh, my friends, it's been so long since I've posted! I've missed you all. I'm now the Race Director of The Big Schloss 50K. Turns out when you love a race very much, you quit running it in order to share that gift with others.
This will be my sixth year as race director. Amy and Steve Platt created this gem of a course in 2003. They put it on through 2009, and then the realities of raising three young children crept in and it went on hiatus. Fellow VHTRC members Sean Andrish, Brian Schmidt and I revived it in 2014 as an official VHTRC event.
An early version of The Big Schloss 50K featured hula hoops. Pictured are me and Karen Krieg.
I like to characterize this race as the love child of a ménage à trois
between the Wild Oak Trail, the Massanutten Mountains and Shenandoah National Park. It's got everything; lush, grassy
sections, gorgeous moss, occasional misty weather, plenty of rocks and
technical trail, incredible views, big climbs, long downhills to bomb and even a little bit of fire
road.
I'll add more to this as I think of things I've forgotten. For now, it will serve as a brief history and a place to find trail maps, directions, turn sheets, pocket reference, etc. Have you run The Big Schloss 50K or hiked the trails of Great North Mountain? Please share your experiences on this place in the comments!
Great North Mountain Trails with Big Schloss 50K Aid Stations
Directions from the DC area
I–66 west to where it ends at I–81.
Take I–81 South (left exit from I–66) for 4 miles to exit 296, Rt. 55 West.
Take Rt. 55 west 18 miles to Wardensville, WV.
In Wardensville, you'll come to an intersection with Rt. 259, proceed to the left to remain on Rt. 55. Just before the road curves to the right, go Left at the “Garrett Insurance” sign on the left onto Trout Run Road, CR23/10.
Follow Trout Run Road for 5.4 miles to the intersection with Thorny Bottom Road. Turn right onto Thorny Bottom Road.
Follow Thorny Bottom Road for 6.2 miles to the entrance for Trout Pond. Turn left into park.
Follow the Trout Pond access road for about a mile to the entrance station.
The road forks.
Take the left fork (which may involve passing the entrance station and turning left) if you want to go to the Start.
The right fork goes to the campground.
I signed up for the Vermont 100 for the only reason that made sense: All my friends were going and I didn't want to miss out on the fun. I also figured that if I didn't sign up now I might never run another one. After all, eight years had passed since I had run my first 100 miler.
I went into this race with a good amount of trepidation. I hadn't raced a single ultra in the past year thanks to a foot injury that plagued me from October to mid-March. I was toeing the start line on very minimal training mileage, just a couple of hundred miles in the few months since I'd been able to resume running. My longest training run was just 38 miles and much of it had been hiking. I was only 3 1/2 months into building my training base using the Maffetone Method (it can take up to 6 months).
Really Minimal Training
Would my body hold up? Would my heart rate stay under control or would it spike after I'd run fifty miles or so? Did I have the mental fortitude to persevere when things started to hurt? Did I want it badly enough? I wasn't sure about anything.
Hubz and I drove up to Vermont in order to bring a big cooler for my real food fueling strategy. Having him as my crew was crucial. There's nobody more organized and efficient. We arrived Thursday evening and stayed with our friend Jen's parents in New Hampshire at the fabled Tofu Farm.* They made a delicious dinner for us and were wonderful hosts. Hubz was particularly thrilled that he was allowed to take a spin in Jen's father's red '64 Corvette.
Breakfast at the Tofu Farm. *The Tofu Farm has nothing to do with tofu, I was sad to discover.
The next morning they whipped up an enormous breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon for us. It's a wonder we ever left!
After stuffing ourselves we drove to the race site to register. The sun was shining, the temperature was cool and optimism was in the air.
The Vermont 100 is an endurance race for both humans and horses. We share many parts of the course with the horses and riders and it's always a thrill to be running alongside them.
Past the rows of horse trailers, campers and tents dotting the grassy meadow, I found registration. Volunteers weighed me, took my blood pressure and queried me about my training and readiness and the risks involved. Gulp!
There were many fellow VHTRC members milling about including MMT100 Race Director Kevin Sayers and first ever Grand Slammer Tom Green who is attempting the Slam once more this summer. Apparently we outnumbered the Vermont folks!
After the race briefing, a big group of us drove just across the New Hampshire border to The Common Man Pub to celebrate Bob's birthday. The usual camaraderie and hijinks ensued, and then we headed back to our hotel for a few short hours of slumber.
At 2:15 a.m. the alarm went off. I had slept fairly well. I downed a couple of hard boiled eggs, some Velvety Butternut Squash and my usual cup of half-caf coffee with coconut milk. Hubz drove us to the start and I found my VHTRC friends. We made jokes in poor taste about blueberry patches and pooping and how the French-speaking runners nearby were probably discussing the exact same topics.
I downed a Vespa Jr. We took a few bad selfies. The crowd was suddenly drifting toward the starting line. It's difficult to be half-awake and nervous at the same time but I somehow managed it. And then we were stumbling forward across the meadow.
We turned downhill on hard-packed dirt road, running easily through the dark. I kept my pace reigned in and let my friends disappear into the night. Soon we were in the woods, our footfalls muffled on the dirt trail. After a brief pit stop I found myself near the back of the pack.
I ran alone for a few miles until Jo Kappus caught up and joined me. I hadn't met her before but she turned out to be excellent company. Over the next 12 hours and 40+ miles the conversation flowed easily. We discussed many things: Jo's experiences with endurance horse racing, ultras we had run, beef liver as endurance miracle food, eye makeup techniques, juicy gossip and (literally) making hay are the few subjects I remember.
Running with the horses
At the Taftsville covered bridge
I had forgotten just how much of this course was road. I also didn't remember the steepness, frequency and length of the hills on the Vermont 100 course. Having done a lot of slow running and hiking on rocky trails, I feared my legs would rebel. I hoped the ups and downs I'd done in training were enough to prevent my old nemeses calf and tibialis cramps from showing up.
I focused on having the same mindset I'd had at Laurel Highlands the year before: I would enjoy running the miles one by one and not get caught up in thinking too far ahead. I would take it step by step. In every ultra, when things start to hurt, I think "This seems much earlier than usual." It happened around mile 16 this time, both of my feet felt like my laces were too tight. Ironically, this same thing had occurred in my first 100 (and never before or since).
I saw Hubz for the first time at mile 21 and changed from my Brooks Pure Cadence to my Merrell All Out Rush. Unfortunately, the culprit was not the shoes or lacing, but my compression socks which were too tight on my feet. I had to run another ten miles before I saw Hubz again and could swap them out for calf sleeves and some DryMax socks.
The "Sound of Music" meadow
After that had abated, I was feeling pretty good, though I was already growing stiff and sore. Bending over, squatting, sitting down and getting back up could no longer be done without a grunt escaping.
I had zero stomach issues. No sloshing or bloating. It was almost as if my stomach wasn't there at all. That's huge. My energy was steady for the entire race. I used Vespa Junior, sweet potato and beet baby food packets, VFuel gels, Epic bars and Nuun to fuel on the run, along with some occasional cold cantaloupe and watermelon at aid stations during the first 40 miles. Hubz met me at the crew-accessible stations with a ready supply of food including Velvety Butternut Squash, chicken and apple sausages, Merguez lamb bangers, olives, homemade bone broth and kombucha. I was well fed, indeed! Jo and I ran together until Camp Ten Bear, mile 46. After Hubz restocked my pack and saw to my needs, I hiked up the road until I caught up with Jo. She wanted to slow down. I was feeling good. I knew I had to run my own race and forge ahead while I had the strength to push.
After some more heinous climbs on trail, then more road, I passed the halfway point. No one else was near.
The hills were long, steep, and relentless. The downhills were punishing. I focused on my form and using my glutes with every step. My body was weary and I hurt, the kind of hurt where things start to tingle but don't yet go blissfully numb. Still, I felt strong down deep.
I had been at the back of the pack all day, but well ahead of the cutoffs. As the daytime turned to dusk, I kept making steady progress. The solitude was taking its toll, however. With no conversation to distract me, my mind wandered to dark places. When I saw Hubz around mile 60, I begged him to find me a pacer to accompany me the last 50K.
As darkness fell, I began to overtake other runners. I chatted with them briefly, eager for conversation, but soon I ran ahead. Almost all of them were death marching and staying in their company too long can be deadly to both your mindset and your pace.
The section between Margaritaville (mile 61) and Camp Ten Bear II had nearly been my downfall eight years ago. I was very glad to share a mile or two with Amelia K. when she followed me out of Brown School House (mile 65). I had gotten a much needed cup of coffee there and was starting to feel revived. We walked for a time on this gnarly piece of trail and chatted until we decided we should run again. Soon I had pulled ahead and found my own rhythm.
Indeed, it was as tough and dark and hilly and long as I remember it, though better marked this time, the glow sticks making it easy to have confidence I was on trail. Finally I arrived back at Camp Ten Bear (mile 69), plopped in my chair and started eating. My pacer, Devon, introduced himself.
I got my hydration pack refilled and some leg and foot rubbing by Hubz, then we started the final 50K. Devon remarked that I was still climbing strongly and running downhills well. I was just happy to have his company and that the trail was mud-free. As we trotted along many of the trail sections seemed familiar. This was a comfort to me, despite the fact that my last time on these sections was during one of the biggest pity parties I've ever thrown. This time I was prepared for the pain and fatigue in my legs. I focused on how much I love running at night. I thought of eight years ago on this night and what Bob was saying to me along our journey. Stop focusing on the pain in your feet, focus on your legs. Pick up your feet. My mantra most of this race was not something soothing like "serene, strong, swift" but "Use Your Ass to Run" to remind me to engage my glutes and use proper form.
The hills just kept coming, steep and long. The downhills followed and they were more painful, though they had the advantage of allowing me to make up some time.
Did I mention the hills? Course profile courtesy of Keith Knipling.
I caught Gary Knipling at the Seabrook aid station. He was clearly suffering and I felt almost guilty about my happy tummy. I gave him a quick shoulder rub and then I was on my way.
The arch of my left foot felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. I didn't know if it was residual effects of the tight compression socks or if it was a stress fracture waiting to snap. It worried me but I figured it wasn't bad enough to stop. Gary somehow revived enough to catch up with us, though I could tell he was still in a bad way. We shared the trail til Spirit of '76 aid station where Hubz crewed us both. I gave Gary some of my olives since nothing else seemed to be appealing to him. I changed back to my Brooks in hopes that would help my foot pain.
We had scarcely gotten a half mile down the hill when a woman ran up quickly behind us. Zeke, the aid station captain, had sent her to accompany Gary the remainder of the run. He immediately took off and abandoned me. So fickle!
My next problem was sleepiness. It was the middle of the night, I'd been awake for more than 24 hours and I could hardly hold my head up. I was like Dorothy in the field of poison poppies in the Wizard of Oz. My pacer was super nice but not exactly loquacious. Normally, this is a quality I would prize but at this moment I needed real help staying awake. I was constantly scanning the landscape for a nice spot to lie down, just for a few minutes.
So sleepy ...
We caught Gary about mile 80 at one of the unmanned aid stations. I tried to figure out how I could take a nap atop one of the big coolers there. Gary offered me a Vivarin tablet which I gladly accepted. It didn't seem to do much, but I didn't get any worse so it very well may have saved my race.
Dawn arrived, always a welcome sight for a tired runner. Not long after, we arrived at Bill's (mile 88). One last weigh in, more coffee, more begging Hubz for JUST A FEW MINUTES to nap. Though I still had almost 12 miles and probably 3 hours to go, the finish line was within reach. Don't think, just run.
The last miles are a blur of more road and hills. Oh, the hills. The old finish was much gentler, this year's course change wound up, up and around and up some more. It was downright cruel until we were running the last quarter mile.
As I ran the last few yards toward the finish as Hubz and my friends cheered, all I could do was bawl, overwhelmed with relief, pride and exhaustion.
The asterisk I'd always tacked onto my first 100 miler finish when Bob had wheedled and cajoled me the final 31 miles was finally banished. I had dug deep and I had come up triumphant.
I finished the Vermont 100! I can't tell you how exhilarated I am to type those words. I'm riding the post-100 miler high! My race report is currently in the works.
I rarely write a Three Things Thursday post, because I usually can't think of three things of interest to report, but I have a few newsworthy items for you today!
1. The Maffetone Method. I've been running a lot lately. I'm 12 weeks into my heart rate training. I'm using The Big Book of Endurance Training and Racing, inspired by this rock star who went from hilariously painful looking 5K race photos to kicking ass and taking names at Ironman/triathlons. Thank you Katie for being amazing and for all the reading recommendations. I am learning so much! My running has been going well despite (because of?) the limitations put on my speed by my sworn obedience to my heart rate monitor.
Three weeks ago I decided I should run the Appalachian Trail across the entire state of Maryland. It was a nice little run in which I spent 12 hours on my feet (and a couple of minutes flat on the trail). Speaking of the trail, there are trails with rocks and then there are trails that are rocks. And they say the AT in Pennsylvania is bad.
Photo style also borrowed from/inspired by Katie at This Amazing Day.
2. The Great Bear Staredown. Two weeks ago, I went running in George Washington National Forest with my friend Brian. Brian is a front of the pack runner who regularly wins ultramarathons. He had pulled ahead of me a few miles into our run so I was very surprised when I rounded a bend to see him standing in the trail.
A big black bear stood watching us about 50 yards away, her cub in a nearby tree. As a midpack runner, I was very excited about seeing a bear, especially one that was more than just a flash of black disappearing into the woods.
But this bear didn't hurry off. In fact, she had been staring at Brian for about 15 minutes.
We decided to bushwhack straight up the hill to the left to give her a wide berth. We hadn't taken more than three steps before mama bear started up the hill as well. We beat a quick retreat back to the trail, fearing a charge was imminent. She climbed further up the hill, but didn't head our way.
After a few minutes of nervous discussion we decided it was likely her cub had gone or she wouldn't have moved that far away. We started tentatively down the trail. She stayed put, her gaze affixed on us the entire time. We walked until we were out of sight.
We ran together for a mile or so and then Brian pulled ahead. As he ran out of sight, I checked over my shoulder to be sure the bear wasn't following me. That old joke occurred to me: You don't have to be fast enough to outrun the bear, you just have to be faster than the slowest person with you. Crap, that's ME!
3. Vermont 100 Miler. Speaking of um, running, my second 100 mile race (ever) will happen in nine days. I'm running the Vermont 100.
I've been reticent about the subject as I crammed to come back from my 5-month foot injury. Thanks to a really skilled sports acupuncturist, I think I have been able to put enough hay in the barn. I may be a little short on training mileage, I may not have done a night run or raced anything long in over a year but I am ready to tackle this challenge. Vermont, here I come!
If you want to read my race report from my last 100 miler (also at Vermont) 8 years ago, it's here: 102 Miles of Vermont: Reflections of a Babe in the Woods. It's the story of a young, impressionable girl who fell under the spell of a powerful man in the woods.
The incomparable Bob Gaylord and me at mile 89 in 2006
I spent 17 hours on my feet volunteering at the Bull Run Run 50 Miler on Saturday.
I thought I might be wistful about not running one of my favorite races, but being out there to encourage and support everyone was more rewarding than I could have imagined.
Instead of my singular journey full of emotion, I got to be a part of many.
I witnessed some beautiful displays of tenacity and courage out there on that unseasonably hot April day.
This image embodies the struggles and
triumphs that occur every year on this course.
Frank Probst and Gary Knipling became the first 70-year olds in history to finish the race.
It wasn't easy for either of them. Frank used to be pretty darn fast and he seems almost apologetic about slowing down. What he doesn't realize is that sometimes it's not the winners who really inspire us.
It's those
who fight the hardest who win our hearts, plant seeds in our minds and
uplift our souls.
To everyone who toed the line at Bull Run Run: Thank you for allowing this injured runner to race vicariously through you.
And shoutout to my fellow WUSsies for sweeping the Male and Female team competition!
This past Saturday I ran my tenth Women's Trail Half Marathon.
I took a big step back in my mileage after Laurel Highlands, to give my legs and spirit a break. I spent time in my garden, vacationing and seeing family. Though I wasn't putting in a lot of miles, I did add hill
work and intervals and felt I had gotten stronger.
I hadn't raced anything short in quite awhile, and I had no idea how my legs would perform on this hilly course at a fast pace. Lately, my runs had been lackluster. I felt like I was due
for a good race.
I freakin' love this race!
I have serious home course advantage on these trails. I know every root, rock and hill on the course. I'm a decent technical trail runner, with little fear of face-planting on even the biggest downhills.
I know that the first mile on the road must be run at death sprint pace to avoid getting bottlenecked on the trail.
I know that the Do Loop hills must be respected, lest one emerge depleted with half the race yet to run.
Many, many hills
After a good warmup in the chilly morning air with Sara, Cherry and Meg, we lined up near the front. We started at a brisk pace, though it seemed slower than in past years. After working hard the first hilly road mile, we reached the trail in great position.
I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn't out of breath and my heart rate was right where I wanted it to be. My speedwork and hill training had paid off!
All the same, I backed off the pace and let my friends pull ahead. Quite a few women passed me. I didn't want to push too hard too soon. I hoped I'd be reeling many of them in later in the race. I marched up the hills while others ran them. I used my downhill and technical trail skills to close the gap time and time again. I picked up the pace on the runnable sections. I kept my breathing controlled. I felt strong coming out of the Do Loop and I began to pass runners who were starting to show signs of tiring, despite being less than halfway in the race. Those Do Loop hills are killer.
Usually, I reach Fountainhead (mile 8) with my mind and body protesting loudly. This year, I was ready to kick it up a notch. I began overtaking runners one at a time.
All too soon the lovely long downhill was over as I reached the turnaround. I was able to see that Jen, Katie, Cherry and Sara all had pretty good leads on me. Could I catch them?
Two and a half miles to go, with a long uphill to start it off. I was pushing now, feeling strong, not fatigued as I usually do at this point.
My Game Face.
When I hit the next mile marker with two miles to go, I knew I needed to make this hurt. I cruised along the trails, faster and faster. My legs had found their rhythm, and they seemed to still have more to give.
I flew down the last big hill, passing three more runners. At the top of the final switchback, I poured it on. A few more women came back to me. There was still no sight of my friends, and then I burst out of the woods into the open field and the finish line.
Though I didn't beat my PR here, I did run my second fastest time. Unusually cool weather made this a great day to test my mettle. I felt good about my race plan execution. I was happy with my day and for my speedyfriends.
Next year ladies, as Bob says, watch your back! I'll be hot on your heels!
All photos courtesy of the inimitable Aaron Schwartzbard
Sara, Katie and me. My girls both demolished their PRs!
On a beautiful Saturday morning in April, I toed the line for my seventh Bull Run Run 50 Miler.
I shared the early miles with my two steadfast training buddies, Katie and Sara. They were running so strong, I had to let them go. I knew they were going to own this race.
I spent the rest of my miles mostly alone, but not lonely. There are always friends passing, sharing a mile or two. I enjoyed my day on trail, just being out in the woods. Bull Run Run is a favorite in part because I get to see so many friends on the out and back section. I loved taking in the sights and sounds - birdsong, various wildflowers, the nascent leaves on the trees. "Gifts from the trail" Gary Knipling calls them, and rightly so.
I started having anterior tibialis soreness and cramping about halfway through the race.
The same issue had plagued me in the latter miles last year. It turned into an injury a couple of weeks later, eventually forcing me to withdraw from my goal race in June.
I was surprised and dismayed to experience it again as I believed it was a caused by insufficient training volume and hill work. Unlike last year, I felt my training leading up to the race was adequate.
2012 mileage leading up to the race vs. 2013
Other than my lower legs, I felt really good. My energy was steady all day but for a brief, mild low point between Miles 21 - 26 (very typical for me). I had zero stomach issues, discomfort or sloshing. I felt strong. Though my lower legs were really tender, I had been able to keep the cramping at bay by walking when they started to quiver.
As I arrived at Fountainhead (mile 38) my spirits were high. No matter my training, I am a strong closer in the final miles of an ultra. My friends were just minutes ahead and I expected to catch up and run the remaining miles in their company.
It never happened. Things began to deteriorate just two miles later, and culminated in severe pain and cramping in my anterior tibialis and ankles. At one point, it was up to my lower back and I had to lie down on a log, it hurt so badly.
The Garmin shows my meltdown. (Mileage is always short on trails).
Hubz appeared on the trail and I was so glad to see him. After what seemed like hours, we hobbled into Bull Run Marina, a mere 5.5 miles from the finish line. I sat, I waited, I ate some calories, I hydrated. I could walk the entire distance in the 3 hours before the time limit, if I could walk without cramping. But I couldn't. My race was over. It was a humbling end to a day that had held so much promise.
But I am alright with my DNF. I did what I could that day. I simply had nothing left.
This was also my first ultra fueling on the Whole 30 program (Day 28), but I'll analyze that in another post. I cannot say definitively whether it was a factor in my tibialis cramping. Given that I had the same issue a year ago, it could be but one piece of the puzzle.
Other factors that probably played a hand in my race:
my last ultra race in warm weather was a whole year ago
dehydration
under-fueling
having my period
a surprisingly stressful week serving on a jury
I'm looking at this DNF as a valuable learning experience and a solid 10 hour training run for my A race in June: The Laurel Highlands 70 Miler.
Slip slidin' away Slip slidin' away You know the nearer your destination The more you're slip slidin' away ~ Paul Simon
This song was a fitting theme for the day
Why do I keep coming back to Hashawha Hills 50K?
It's a loop
course, which is mentally tougher than a point to point course. It also means running the same route twice. There's several out and back sections that exist solely to provide the requisite mileage.
It's at a terrible time of the
year, the last weekend in February. Everything is brown and dead.
The weather can be ugly (last year, race day featured crazy winds).
Depending on the temperature, the course features icy cambered hills or shoe-sucking mud and slop. This year, we got both!
Better than the forecasted freezing rain, we had misting rain for the first 15 miles.
All photos by Anstr Davidson
I almost bailed several times before race day. I had some good reasons:
The forecast of freezing rain
A birthday happy hour/dinner for two close friends the night before
The 4 a.m. wakeup to drive 90 miles to the start
Somehow, I propelled myself out the door to meet up with Team Gaylord, a boisterous bunch whom I dearly love. This gang makes any kind of hell seem like the most fun there is. Thankfully the roads were not hazardous. The parking lot itself was literally a sheet of ice. I donned my YakTrax for the walk to the building where we gathered for the race briefing.
Yours Truly and Beni running a brief paved road section of the course
And then the fun began. The course was frozen mud with lots of slick sections. Poor Beni went down in a cringe-inducing crash that would end her day after one loop.
We continued along at a cautious pace, warning each other about icy spots. Bob shouted what he considers encouragement at everyone we encountered on the out-and-backs. The rest of us pretended not to know him.
It thawed a bit for the second half of the race . . .
There's a little of every kind of terrain here: Hills, none too steep or long but they just keep coming. Frozen, lumpy fields that threaten to turn your ankle. A few creek crossings, one wide and so cold it burned. Gravel road. A bit of paved road. Some sweet single-track trail in the woods. Pine needle-carpeted nirvana.
We completed loop one and recharged our supplies. As we trotted on our way, the winner arrived, obliterating the course recordby 38 minutes. HOLY SH*T!
We hustled out of there. The mist had stopped, and the day was growing warmer. The frozen mud became squishy, shoe-sucking mud. The sweet, legendary Tom Green joined our merry band for a while. What did we talk about? What didn't we talk about? We talked about who was running what races next. We pontificated on the 24-hour run format. We complained enthusiastically about the ridiculous conditions, laughing and taunting each other. We somehow discussed fake dog testicles. Yes, they exist.
5 miles to go. There are no trail photos as Anstr was too smart to go out in that slop.
Why do I keep coming back to Hashawha Hills 50K?
This race for me is about friends, and our conversations.
It's about getting outside on a day when you'd normally cancel any planned outside activity and huddle in your warm, dry home with a hot mug of comfort.
It's about how lucky you feel when you realize it's a damned good day to run.
My day at Potomac Heritage 50K ended before mile 10. I simply didn't have anything in my legs. I got a few photos, so I'll share those instead of boring DNF stories.
It was perfect cool weather for trail running, and the sun finally emerged after many days of post-Sandy clouds.
Two lovely trail options
There were quite a few blowdowns thanks to Sandy
Some sweet downhill
The infamous tunnel
C&O Canal Towpath
Leaving Aid Station #3
Hubz examines a deer skull
Runners pause at aid station #3
At the always stellar post-run party
Thanks to Kerry Owens and Doug Sullivan and all the folks who volunteered and made it all happen.
