Subject: MMT100 Story, very long Date: Thu, 27 May 1999 22:48:32 EDT From: ITgoes@aol.com Hey all! Here's a story about my MMT100 adventure earlier this month. It is written for those who do not know a lot about the sport of ultra running. It is also very long. So either delete it or enjoy it! Sincerely, Ian Torrence ITgoes@aol.com MOOD SWINGS, URINE STINGS, AND OTHER WEIRD THINGS A Tale About the Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Miler by Ian Torrence There were probably three months before it's May 8th starting date when I decided to commit to the ultra marathon called Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Miler (MMT). It sounded like a great idea at the time. I could visit family on the east coast, it coincided with a lull in my work schedule, and it would be a great way to spend a weekend. The entire MMT 100 adventure began even before I got to the starting line. There was so much preparation involved. Putting aside the physical training aspect, the mental and logistical preparation would prove to be just as taxing. I love to run, and I love to run a lot. So the physical training, the hundreds upon hundreds of miles I logged monthly prior to the event, came easily for me. The hard part of the ultra marathon, for me, came as race day approached and I began to think of the planning aspects of the run. What will I eat and drink, will anyone be able to assist me, and will I do well? As the miles begin to stack up on a runner enduring a 100 miler, their mental capacity quickly decomposes. That is why it is best to have a "crew". I enlisted some of the best crew members I can think of for MMT. Andy Roth, his wife, Liz, and my mother, Glenda, agreed to join my journey and crew for me. Their responsibility would be to meet me at the eleven different crew accessible aid stations along the course and supply me with food, drink, and mental support as I went. Andy would also act as my official pacer. He would join me at the 74 mile mark and run to the finish with me. Pacers are a safety measure, but they also provide encouragement, conversation, and comic relief in the long hours of the night. I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself to do well at ultra type events. So nerves and tensions reach an all time high as race day gets closer. When we arrived at Skyline Ranch Resort, the race headquarters, located just outside of Front Royal, Virginia, the realization and seriousness of what I was about to undertake made me almost unbearable to be around. I really did try my best to quell my nerves and to not get others around me as antsy as I was. Andy, Liz, my Mother, and I took in last minute instructions and course updates from race director Ed Demoney at the pre-race meeting. A lot of what I heard was a repeat from information mailed to me in the preceding months or what I discovered on the race's web site (http://vhtrc.simplenet.com). I was more interested in current course conditions and Saturday's weather forecast. The course was in good condition due to a dry spring, but the weather for Saturday called for scattered showers and hot, humid conditions. I was familiar with the course. I had run MMT in both 1995 (it's inaugural year) and in 1996. There was a major change since those years, however. From miles 65 to 74, the course was altered in order to incorporate more trail running. So sometime late in the race I would have to prepare myself for a new and, from what I was told, very rough section of trail running. MMT has been billed by many to be the most difficult 100 mile trail race east of the Rocky Mountains. There are currently twenty 100-mile races in North America spanning from Arkansas to Alaska, Vermont to California, and Texas to Canada. The MMT course winds its way for 100 miles through the George Washington National Forest in northern Virginia. Approximately 4 miles of the course was on asphalt road, 14 miles on dirt fire roads, and the remaining 82 miles found the runner passing over rocky, mountainous trail. Sixteen aid stations were to be spread along the course where runners could refuel and regroup. Each aid station had food, fluid, and medical aid for runners. After dinner, I went over race day operations with my crew. Andy, Liz, my mother, and I sat around the living room of our rented cabin and discussed how things would go on race day. In order to get a strong and quick start, I decided to start with one water bottle and no fanny pack. At the first aid station that my crew could access (mile nine) I would pick up another water bottle and my fanny pack. My diet during the race would consist of Power Gel (www.powerbar.com) mixed with Mountain Dew in a gel flask, Ensure mixed with water and ice, Succeed Amino drink mix, Succeed Electrolyte Caps (www.ultrafit-endurance.com), and other electrolyte replacement drinks. The only solid food that I would ingest during the event would be baked potatoes and various kinds of soup. We coordinated other logistics like when I would need to pick up my lights for the night running portion of the race and when Andy would begin his duties as pacer. I then went ahead and penned mileages between aid stations on my forearm, so I could keep track of my progress along the course. Race morning started early. Shortly after 4 a.m. my alarm went off, I downed a Power Bar Harvest Bar and some Gatorade. We all headed over to the start, I checked in, the Blessing was given by Ed Demoney, and he started us at 5 a.m. sharp. Off into the dark went 101 runners on their quest for a 100 mile finish. I jumped to a quick lead behind the pace car, as the first two and half miles were on public roads. After settling in I was joined on one side by 44 year-old Tim Hewitt, hailing from Greensburg, PA. Tim ran MMT in 1997, so he knew what he was getting himself into. One the other side of me Vermonter Chad Ricklefs, 31, settled in. Chad, however, had no idea what to expect, this was his first 100 miler ever. We entered onto the first section of trail, by headlamp, after leaving the road. I was content to let Tim and Chad take the lead up and over the rocky ridge called Buzzard's Rock. Here we caught our first views of the rising sun and the beautiful Virginia mountains that we would spend the remainder of the next two days running through. We headed through Shawl Gap and down to the first aid station. On the way down the mountain, the three of us were passed by New Yorker John Geesler like we were standing still. A true veteran of this course, John had completed all four of the MMT races, only one of three people to have done so. Into the first aid station I came, behind Tim and John. I was met by my mother, Andy, and Liz. I was overwhelmed by what they were offering me. Three bottles each containing a different liquid, Power Bars, sun glasses, electrolyte pills, and clothing. You see, I was still in what I like to call "race mode". In this frame of mind, I believe that if another runner gets ahead I wouldn't be able to catch back up. My mind is stuck in a very competitive mode. I truly had forgotten that I still had 91 more miles to cover and 18 more hours of running to look forward to. This is another example of that race stress rearing it's ugly head. Able to get what I needed, I headed out knowing that I wouldn't be able to see my crew until the 25-mile aid station. No sooner than I had left, the skies opened up on us all. Chad and I looked at each other, as we ran side by side on a rare portion of the course where it actually travels on a wide dirt road, and commented on what a long day this was going to be. I was quickly soaked all the way through, my shirt hung off me, and my shoes squeaked and sloshed through the many small streams that formed across the road. After beginning the next trail section, the rain let up and became quite refreshing as it cooled me down on the long climb to Milford Gap. John, Tim, and I exchanged leads several times as we closed in on the 25-mile aid station. I was greeted there by my support crew once again. I later found out that they had passed the storm in a McDonald's over breakfast. I wish I had been there. I quickly refueled, gathered myself, and took off up another long trail climb. As I passed through the poison ivy hanging over the trail, I decided that I was feeling well enough to make a push. I was leading at this point and wanted to put some distance on the fellows following me. I ran up much of the climb and hit the ridge with a good stride. I followed the ridge top trail to Kennedy Peak. At the summit, the runner's had to climb a fire tower in order to obtain a famous quote from American history. At the top I found the quote sprawled on a yellow pie plate. "I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky." -William Jefferson Clinton That was good enough for a chuckle and then off I went. By this time, the sun was burning off the cloud cover and the humidity was really noticeable. The horse flies emerged and began to annoy me, as well. I concentrated on drinking my fluids in order to pass the time. Through another aid station I passed only briefly stopping to get new water bottles and relay the humorous quote to my crew. The next section of the course turned out to be the wettest section of trail. Duncan Hollow Trail and the Gap Creek Trail were resembling small running creeks. It became easier for me to run through the mud and water than to try to hop rock to rock. My footwear proved themselves over the course. My Montrail Vitesse (www.montrail.com) protected my feet from ankle twisting rocks, black toe nails, and blisters, common maladies among ultra runners. At mile 43, I encountered the steepest climb on the course. I had been expecting it since I was pretty familiar with the course. The Waterfall Trail lacked switch-backs and headed straight up the steep mountain side. I couldn't put my heels down, I had to toe climb it most of the way. I was glad to summit it and relax on the downhill on the other side. My calves thanked me for it. After another short, hard-topped road section, I came into the 47 mile aid station located in New Market Gap. This was where many runners earned a "Visitor's Award". If they had made it this far but ended up dropping out farther along the course they still got to go home with a reminder of their MMT effort. It was a simple rock from the course with a small name plate attached to it. This was an incentive to return and finish the course the following year. In 1995, I almost became an official "Visitor". It was my first 100 mile ultra, I had started too quickly, and was feeling terrible by the time I had gotten to this point. This year was much different. I grabbed a cup of soup, several baked potatoes, and headed toward the two mile climb up Bird Knob. This was a two mile out and back section. On the way down I passed Tim, Chad, and Andy Peterson, a 42 year old local boy from Luray, VA. He looked strong and was moving quickly. I knew Andy from 1997's running of the Old Dominion 100 Mile Endurance Run. I was pushed by Andy the whole way during that race. He is known for his strong finishes. I felt strong and was looking at about a four mile lead on Tim, the current second place runner. Through the 54 mile aid station I passed. I grabbed two more filled bottles and headed onward. At this point the course looped back on itself. I began to run into runners on the trail before they began their own climb up the Waterfall Trail. I saw good friends who encouraged me onward. Everyone looked so good and were in good spirits. It was contagious and it rubbed off on me. I passed Sook Gumpel. I had met her in ultra races out west. I met Chris Scott, former President of the Virginia Happy Trails Running Club, and race director of a race I've run in California. Chris was running with our good friend, Phil Young. I then came upon Jose Wilkie from Louisville, KY. This was already his third 100 miler of the year and he had 7 or 8 more planned. Into the 59 mile aid station, Scothorn Gap, I came. Because I had been running in wet shoes and socks all day long, my feet were beginning to complain. I took this opportunity to take a seat and change out my socks. What a difference that made! Running became much more enjoyable after that. One problem still persisted, however. Because of the number of miles I had come, I began to develop a chaffing between my legs. Every time I relieved myself, and runner's do not do this eloquently, the dribble would sting my rub spots. We're talking severe stinging, enough to bring tears to my eyes. But the pain was only temporary and actually ended up taking my mind off my other sore spots for a bit. Several long lonely sections of trail followed, including the newly added section known as Short Mountain. It was added to last year's event in order to increase the amount of trails the course would cover. I had never experienced this section before. It was a long eight mile section. The trail climbed to Short Mountain's ridge line and followed it to Edinburg Gap. The trail was a test of agility, endurance, and patience. I took one of my only two spills on this section of trail. It was very rocky and windy. I was fortunate, because many of the runners behind me would end up traversing this section in the night, by flashlight. Glad to be down and done with Short Mountain, I came into Edinburg Gap. Ed Demoney was there and asked how I liked the last segment. Quite bluntly I responded, "It sucked!" I went ahead to explain that if I were just out for a day hike it would have been a beautiful hike, but after have run 70 miles no one would want to go through that sort of masochistic torture. It was 6:25 p.m. and I still had 26 miles to go. At this point I was able to pick up my pacer, Andy Roth, for the rest of the race. As we ran and walked, Andy fell in behind me. We slowly closed the distance to the finish line. We passed time with dirty jokes, reflections, and tall tales. As we neared the Woodstock Tower aid station, we ran into Karsten Brown, that aid station's captain. He was placing placards out on the trail indicating how far it was to his station. This is a nice thing to know when you've been running for two hours and wonder when you'll see civilization again. Andy and I picked up our headlamps, flashlights, and extra batteries from my mom and Liz and took off without wasting time. I had never seen this section of the course in the daylight before. In my past two MMT runs I had been through this section of trail in the night. I was encouraged by this. I knew I was running well. As the sun began to set I was able to see some incredible views of the Shenandoah River Valley. The river snaked through many farm fields and each farm had it's house lights on. It reminded me of my grandparents house. It was really quite calming. Andy and I were now engulfed by the night. Andy turned on his light first. I wanted to wait as long a possible before doing so. It was then that I got a wake up call. On the dark, tree covered trail I caught a rock with my foot and went sailing into a tree. I was able to catch myself, and was then content to use my headlamp from then on. For most of the course runners followed yellow ribbons. Now that night had fallen, glow sticks were what we looked for. Five hundred glow sticks were hung in trees along the trail to direct the runners home. Their green light became a comforting and reassuring sight. As we came down off the ridge into Powell's Fort Aid Station, we met my mom and Liz. They had just arrived, they had gotten lost, but they made it just in time. We almost beat the aid station personnel too. They were in disarray as we came in. This is why my crew was so valuable. They had what I needed, when I needed it. With a change of batteries and new water bottles, we charged off into the night. The whippoorwills began their singing. Their eerie calls echoed through the forest as Andy and I made our way toward Elizabeth Furnace, the final aid station before the finish. Spirits were high. The miles seemed to be passing faster than I had remembered from my last MMT experiences. As we closed within several miles of the last aid station, the generator for it's lights could be heard in the distance. Andy mused about how it sounded like a mountain lion waiting to prey on us. I reassured him that, between the both of us, we didn't have enough meat on our bones to make it worth the chase. I came into station's lights in a depleted state. Andy had to direct me back on to the course several times by this point. Changing the batteries of my headlamp became a huge ordeal. Which is positive, which is negative? Simple tasks became difficult. I was tired and couldn't make a decision. I just wanted to be done. Andy forced two cups of soup down my throat and within five minutes of walking and slurping, I was all gitty again and ready to go. I was in such a great mood for the last 5.3 miles. I was able to run some of the climb up Shawl's Gap. Here again the course doubled back on itself for a brief moment. I thought back. I was at this exact spot almost 18 hours ago and 90 miles ago. Wow! I was actually going to do this thing and do it in style. From Shawl's Gap Andy and I headed back down the ridge, through the woods toward Skyline Ranch Resort, and the finish line. We reached the final grassy field before the finish line. Andy and I shook hands. I ran across the line at 12:16 a.m. Sunday morning. So I had finished. All the stress was gone. Elation now replaced it and hid the pain in my legs. In 19 hours, 16 minutes, and 27 seconds I covered 100.5 miles, the second fastest time ever run on the course in it's five year history. If my smile could be measured, I'm sure it would have covered the distance I had just run. I hugged and wished my mom a Happy Mother's Day. I was congratulated by Ed Demoney, Liz, and Andy. I was wired, I had to sit, but I wasn't tired. Andy relayed our tales of the trail to Liz and my mom. They did the same for us. Fun was had by all. Andy and I headed for the showers. Liz and my mom headed for town in search of Seven Layer Burritos. Taco Bell was closed. I was just as happy to settle for a peanut butter and jam bagel, one of my favorite concoctions, and perhaps the secret to my success. We all retired to the cabin to catch what sleep we could before the sun rose the next morning. The next morning we went to breakfast in Front Royal and returned to the finish line to cheer on those runners still finishing and to scope out the official results. At 5 p.m. the course closed and the awards ceremony began. I am awed by the runners who were out on the course for the entire 35 hour time limit. What an incredibly long time to be one your feet. I was just as impressed by all of the great work the volunteers and race direction did. No problems arose on race day. Of the 101 starters, 60 runners finished the course. The awards were given quickly and we were all content to finally head home. It had always been a dream of mine to win a 100 mile trail race. I had no idea that it would happen so early in my ultra running career. The whole trip was a great experience and adventure. I was glad that I got to share the moment with my mother, my friends, and other runners. Ultra running is an incredible, yet unknown, sport. The community is composed of some of the most wonderful people I've ever met. I'm proud to be among their ranks. I look forward to my next ultra with the same vigor and enthusiasm as the one before. Whole new experiences and lessons await around every turn.