Dont Should on Me

You’re about to read a race recap as long as the race itself. TLDR: I ran 100 miles, barely. I fell three times, fought horrific ankle pain for 20-30 miles, and had a terribly amazing time. My finish time: 31:53:13. Race cutoff time: 32:00:00.

Of course, I slept poorly the night before the race – that seems to be pretty common. My husband was coming with the kids on Saturday morning because my eldest had a football game Friday night. Race morning started early with a pre-5 am wakeup. Mom, Christena, and Kim took me to the start line. All in all, race morning went fine – my nerves weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be, I was ready to get this thing going after so many months of preparation. The race started at 6am on Saturday. I settled into a conga line for a while and was going slower than I would have liked but decided to just chill for the time being. I came into the first aid station, Concho Rim, feeling pretty good. My stop was quick to grab my food and say hi to mom, Christena, and Kim. Then I lost a few minutes waiting at the port-a-potty – but it was the kind of visit that’s not ideal to do in the woods, if you know what I mean, especially before the runners have all spread out.

Heading down to Arbuckle Creek (mile 13 ish), I was excited that the water was pretty low and I wasn’t going to get my feet wet (most likely). The photographer set up there had music playing and “Jukebox Hero” was on. The chorus started right as I was crossing. I threw up my hand and rocked out across the rocks. Until my foot hit a slippery one and before I knew it I was face down and my chin smashed into a rock. Now, I don’t want to speak badly about the guys behind me but I didn’t hear a single one of them ask me if I was ok or needed anything. Maybe they did and I just didn’t hear it or remember it. I took a second to do a little self-inventory to make sure I was ok, and then picked myself up and pulled off to the side of the creek because I realized I’d cut my chin open. When I got going again, I found myself trying to throw a little pity party. I decided real quick that I wasn’t going to entertain that – yes I’d fallen, but it could have been SO much worse – I hadn’t busted my teeth or my legs or anything else I needed to be able to complete the race. It did take me about 20 min or so to get the jitters out of my system. It was also during this time I met “Javelina Sarah”. I have trouble remembering people’s names, so I will assign them some sort of nickname to help me remember. Sarah was just the energy I needed. She was kind, funny, and easy to talk to. Sarah’s pacer was originally supposed to run Javelina Jundred the same weekend but ended up not being able to so was pacing Sarah instead. Sarah and I spent a good bit of time together throughout the race and I truly enjoyed her company. 

After the fall, Sarah and I ran to the next aid station together, Thurmond, where I met “Angel Andrea”. I needed help getting my chin squared away and one of the volunteers, Andrea, jumped in without hesitation. She washed my chin with soap and water, applied antibiotic ointment, steristrip and bandaid. Sarah headed on out while I finished getting patched up and situated. I’d eaten a ton to this point – it was actually a mistake. I’d forgotten that the food I picked up at the prior drop bag needed to last me THROUGH Thurmond and to the next Aid Station at mile 27ish, Cunard. I ate all my food going into Thurmond. Luckily I’d grabbed a few things from the aid station and had an extra mini bagel left in my pack so I made that work until Cunard. I don’t remember the mileage but somewhere along the way there was a young man playing banjo on the side of the trail. It was awesome! And he was good! It was hard not to stop and have a little listen for a while.

When I hit Cunard, mile 27, I got to see my entire crew: Husband, 2 kids, doggo, mom, Kim, and Christena. They changed out my bandaid and I had to make another trip to the potty. I also took time to check my feet here and reapply anti chafe ointment. When I was trying to do this I was cramping very badly and needed a lot of help just to put on my ointment, socks and shoes. I had some Coke, some quesadillas from the aid station, and grabbed more food (inlcuding a biscuit and some grapes and apples), water, and liquid nutrition. I grabbed my poles here too. I didn’t necessarily feel like I needed them just yet but the next opportunity to get them wouldn’t be until mile 43 and I didn’t want to wait that long. 

From Cunard to Long Point aid was only 5 miles but for some reason that stretch felt really long. We got to see a really gorgeous view of the New River Gorge bridge. I came across Sarah again sometime in this section. When we hit the Long Point aid station, I loaded up on pickles and pickle juice and had some broth. I also can’t thank the aid station volunteers there enough for having baby wipes! I grabbed one and wiped some of the crusted salt off my face. And “Angel Andrea” was there again! And once again, she changed out my bandaid. 

Coming into the Fayette aid station at mile 43 was awesome. There was a very energetic and kind woman directing traffic and many crew from other runners all cheering runners in. I got to see the whole crew again. I felt really good physically and mentally. I grabbed more pickle juice and broth and took a very short sit in a chair that didn’t belong to me. My pacer Kim knew them so it was fine 🙂 My crew filled up my water and then I had a short sit to use the percussion massager on my quads and hamstrings because I could feel my IT band trying to get grumpy. It was 9.5 miles to the next aid station and the turn around point. I grabbed my headlamp and waist lamp and headed back out.

My memory starts to get a little bit blurry from here on out. I know it was somewhere in this time that the front of my right ankle started bothering me. My feet were tired and I changed to a new pair of shoes at some point, just to give my feet something new to feel. I was continuing to get broth and pickle juice or pickles at every aid station and that helped with the cramps. I wasn’t eating a ton but was trying to keep forcing things in.

I came into Hawks Nest aid station, mile 52.5, after dark. I changed into warm, dry clothes, a new pair of socks and shoes (I think), and picked up more warm layers. I was still feeling pretty good so I told my pacer, Kim, that I’d be good until the next aid station if she wanted to save a few miles on her legs. You see, Kim hadn’t originally been scheduled to pace any miles. When I lost a pacer about a month before the race my husband volunteered to pace me from mile 93 to the finish and Kim was going to take a small 6-8 ish mile section. Then I lost another pacer the week of the race and Kim, being the superwoman that she is, told me she was fine to do as many miles as I needed. I know she just didn’t want me to panic and I’m so grateful for that. Anyway, Hawks Nest is the turnaround point and I only had another 6 ish miles to get back to Fayette and then I’d pick up Kim. Leaving Hawks Nest was some bullshit technical descent. The rock ‘steps’ were so big that I didn’t trust my tired legs to keep me from tumbling all the way down the side of the slope. So I sat down and scooted myself ever so carefully down. I distinctly remember a few times saying, “where in the fresh hell am I”?

When I got back to Fayette at mile 58.75, I grabbed a slice of pizza my family brought and it was so good I grabbed a second slice. I’d also realized my watch needed to be charged – badly. It was at 2% when I picked up the charger at Fayette. COROS really needs to find a way to add battery status onto the activity screen. The climb out of Fayette aid station is long so I stacked my two pizza slices on top of one another and power walked as much as I could while juggling my poles and trying to stuff a pizza stack in my face. I think I also picked up a snickers bar from my crew at Fayette and stashed that in my pack for later. My throat was starting to feel raw and I was falling behind on my nutrition plan but I knew two slices of pizza were a needed boost. 

Another 5 ish miles to Long Point aid station at mile 63.75 and I think we pulled in an hour before cutoff. I got more pickles and juice, grabbed a snack size payday bar, had some broth, filled my bladder and we were off again. My right ankle was bothering me more and more as we went along and I was trying to think of ways to troubleshoot it at the next crewed aid station (mile 80). The moon was a beautiful bright crescent and I loved catching little glimpses of it through the trees. Perhaps the most magical sight overnight was a section of kudzu that was glowing in the moonlight. I wish I’d gotten a chance to try to snap some photos but I knew I was going to need every second I could get.

It was almost 11 miles to Arrowhead aid station at mile 69 ish. It was a really long stretch and I don’t remember a lot about it. Like I said, everything from the overnight section is kind of fuzzy – I remember things that happened, just not necessarily WHEN they happened. The folks at Arrowhead aid station were awesome – they were throwing an 80’s party and they were all decked out, music and lights, the whole nine yards. My tummy had started processing all the food I’d eaten so far and I had to make a few bathroom stops. One stop was actually a pit toilet and was a welcome change from the more ‘rustic’ bathroom stops. But I inadvertently left my gloves behind and realized it about 1/2-3/4 mile later when my hands were cold and I couldn’t find my gloves. Luckily Kim had mittens in her pack so she gave me her gloves and I donated my nice gloves to the pit toilet gods. I also had another fall sometime overnight. This one was hilarious. You know the scene from Big Daddy when Adam Sandler is teaching the little kid, Julian aka ‘Frankenstein’, to throw sticks in front of the roller bladers? That happened. I don’t know how but a stick straight up caught my feet and I fell face first. Didn’t put my hands out to brace the fall or anything, just fell smack down. Luckily it was a softer dirt section and not a technical rock section and I was fine.

Coming into Cunard aid station at mile 80, I told Kim I needed to try to tape my ankle – the pressure was building and I was really starting to struggle to keep a good pace. My foot was no longer cooperating and navigating technical sections was becoming very painful and tricky. We put a few pieces of KT tape across the most painful areas. I figured it couldn’t hurt and it might help. I switched out my shoes one more time. The two prior pair had been Topo Ultraventure 3’s and this last pair was Hoka Mafate – a bit more cushion and an entirely different fit. I don’t remember a ton – I think I was getting pretty tired and we were losing a good bit of time. I had another fall overnight – I slid down the side of the trail trying to avoid the “steps” of rocks (bc I essentially had no control over my right foot and the pain was unbearable). The fall in itself wasn’t so terrible. It was frustrating, but I don’t remember getting hurt. But I almost couldn’t get myself back on my feet because of the steep angle and my fatigued legs and painful ankle.

When we made it to the Erskine aid station at mile 85.5, it was no longer dark. I was hurting pretty badly by now but I do think the KT tape helped take some of the pressure off the ankle. I took a few shots of pickle juice and a shot of Fireball. We were now officially chasing cutoffs – a position I’d tried really hard not to get myself into. Kim refueled herself, I grabbed a few items off the aid table and we breezed through. It was 8.5 miles to the last aid station at mile 93. This section was supposed to be pretty easily runnable but I really struggled to stay shuffling. My throat was raw and my ankle pain was radiating up and down my leg and foot. It wouldn’t be until later that I realized I didn’t fill up my bladder at Erskine – I ran out of water before hitting the next aid station. I will say that at every other aid station, we were greeted by volunteers with open hands, asking if they could fill our bottles or bladders. At Erskine, they didn’t do that. I do believe it is absolutely my own responsibility to make sure I have what I need however, it sure would have been nice if they were a little more ‘aggressive’ at that aid station. My brain was definitely not functioning properly so the reminder would have been nice. Between Erskine and Concho Rim I didn’t eat a ton, I was just trickling in calories at this point – even when I was able to take in a bunch of calories, it didn’t seem to do very much to boost my energy level. Kim kept trying to calculate our timing to Concho Rim because now I was definitely on a tight timeline. The course mileage markers weren’t lining up with the GPS mileage, making it even more difficult to calculate pace and time remaining. Even mild technical sections were almost impossible to navigate and I was shuffling out of sheer willpower whenever I could. I’d been taking Tylenol overnight and I could definitely have used another dose but we didn’t have time to stop. As time ticked by and more and more people went past me, I realized this could be it. This could be where I time out and don’t get to finish. I was frustrated, sad, tired, in pain and I began to cry. I cried a lot. Poor Kim – she’d been listening to me literally moan and fight through pain all night long and now I was full-on losing my shit. Javelina Sarah and her pacer went by and she gave me a huge smile and some encouraging words. I told them this could be it, I was probably not going to make it. It was hard to watch them go by but I was coming around to the idea of the DNF – of losing the damn finisher pottery mug that had kept me going for so long.

And then Kim said, “Oh wait, I mathed wrong. I think we have 40 minutes to go a mile and a half”. I immediately stopped crying and said, “Really?” So maybe it wasn’t quite over. I’m not going to lie, the idea of immediate relief from being on my feet was pretty tempting BUT I wasn’t about to give up now. I kept thinking about how pissed I’d be looking back and quitting at mile 93. So … I pushed. I cannot describe to you how badly my ankle was hurting at this point.

My boys met me at the top of the hill coming into Concho Rim aid station at mile 93 and took my pack from me. They ran down to start filling up the bladder, my flask with a recovery drink, and pull any unnecessary things out of my pack. I came into the aid station sobbing. I wanted to try to duct tape my ankle to give it some support. As my husband was wrapping, I was screaming — the pain was so bad to even be touched. He stood me up and I couldn’t hardly stand. I was crying out in pain but I knew I had to MOVE. I hobbled for about 50 ft and then we dropped down into the trail again. I told my husband I had to take the tape off, it was making the pain worse and I was moving better without it. As I screamed curse words, he lowered me down onto a rock at the side of the trail, took the tape off, and then lifted me back onto my feet. And then it was a race against time. I cried a lot. My husband was trying to bribe me with snacks, which would ordinarily work great, but my throat was so raw I couldn’t stand taking anything else in. Everything was leaving a weird coating and aftertaste in my mouth and no matter how much water I drank, my mouth felt dry. I don’t want to beat the dead horse by describing the intense pain over and over again. But just know that I would have preferred childbirth at that point. My foot was a bit of a liability at that point, I really had little control over it, so navigating roots and rocks felt treacherous. I kept asking my husband, “Am I going to make it”? He kept trying to get me to shuffle. And I tried to, whenever I could, keep shuffling. It was a matter of sheer willpower at that point because I knew there was no relief coming for any of my misery but to finish. When we hit the ‘One mile to go’ sign, you’d have thought I would have been happy. I truly felt nothing – that’s a lie, I felt lots of pain and misery. I still wasn’t sure I was going to make it but I kept pushing. We passed a guy who was barely moving. And tried to offer words of encouragement but I knew how badly he must be feeling and honestly couldn’t muster any false hope to give to the guy. And finally, finally we rounded a corner and I could see the finishing chute. There was a volunteer at the corner encouraging me to hurry, I had 9 minutes. I couldn’t believe I’d done it. Then I saw my dad, who I’d talked to Thursday before the race and he’d told me he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it to this event, and I was overcome with emotion. I came across the finish line ugly crying in the best way. My entire crew was there, several of them crying too. If the race hadn’t finished in a gravel parking lot, I would have just collapsed on the ground. I think it’s better that I was forced to stand so I could give everyone hugs. And I gave everyone hugs, probably to their dismay because, as you can imagine, I smelled pretty ripe after 31 hours of running.

I hugged my husband, who quite literally got me through the last 7 miles. Who, a month before the race learned he needed to pace me the last 7 miles, who is not a runner but never hesitated to say “yes”, who works so hard M-F and then again on the weekends so I could go play in the woods for hours on end every single weekend for months. I hugged my mom, who has enthusiastically jumped into supporting me and the rest of the trail community at these ultra running events, who whispered into my ear at mile 85, who rubbed lube on my feet and toes when I literally couldn’t reach my own feet because of cramping. I hugged my kids, who have also given up family time while I played in the woods every weekend, who jumped in to be amazing helpers during the race, who cheered for me and gave me words of encouragement. I hugged Kim, who hates hugs, who kept me from panicking when I lost my pacers leading up to the race, who selflessly ignored her own needs during those miles she paced me to make sure I finished this, who listened to me literally moan and groan all night long in pain, who handed me the gloves off her own hands when I left mine behind during a potty stop, who let me sob but kept me moving. I hugged Christena, who drove all the way from Michigan, who was our unofficial crew photographer, who jumped in to do anything and everything that was needed at each and every point along the way, who yelled encouragement, who is one of the best internet friends I’ve ever been lucky enough to meet. I hugged my dad, who definitely doesn’t understand WTF is wrong with me but still shows up to support me, who tells his golf buddies how crazy I am but I know it’s his way of bragging. I hugged Bryant, the RD, who has created an amazing race and atmosphere, who is doing work in his community to bring his love of the outdoors to youth who otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford to do epic shit, who delights in seeing people in pain (just kidding, the pain is a side effect of achieving an incredibly difficult goal). I hugged Laura, Bryant’s wife, for being a friendly face at many aid stations, for also working so hard alongside Bryant to put on an incredible event and share their love of the WV wilderness with youth. I hugged “Angel Andrea”, who cleaned and patched my chin on several occasions, who was at several aid stations offering assistance and kindness. I hugged “Javelina Sarah”, who became my trail bestie (I don’t think she knows that though) when she appeared and helped calm my nerves after my epic fall at mile 13, who reminded me to take in more sodium because of my cramping, who told me about her favorite races, and who I hope I get to run with again someday.