Trail Marathon

Three years ago one of my brother-in-laws (Stephen) convinced me that running a marathon would be fun, and since all the Garrett brothers were going to do one together, I should join them. I figured, "Hey, if Stephen can do it, then I surely can." So I did it. Of course, only one of the four ended up doing it, but I enjoyed the experience, and thus I meekly became a "runner" ... (seriously, if you saw me "run," you'd know what I meant by "runner"!)

Fast-forward three years later and here I am at the starting line of my second marathon, although this one was a little unconventional. This wasn't your regular street marathon ... this was a marathon on single-track hiking trails in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Beautiful? Yes! Lot's of hills? Oh, yeah! :( Anyway, I love being in the woods and on trails, so this seemed like a natural fit, right? Well, sorta ... minus the whole running for 26.2 miles thing. Anyway, If you have the time, I'll take you through all 26.2 miles, and what it was like.

Starting Line -- Adele dropped me off at the starting line at 6:00 in the morning for the 7:00 am start. I got all my trail running gear on, which consisted of trail shoes (different than running shoes ... stiffer, more traction, less cushoning), my running shirt, shorts, bandanna on my head for sweat, and a North Face running backpack (like a Camelbak). About 10 "GU" packs, and my ipod. I was set. I scanned the competition ... and realized I'd not even be close to winning, and settled into the fact that my goal was to cross the finish line ... somehow.

Miles 0-4 -- Okay, so I was so nervous and so hydrated before the race I could hardly keep from wetting my pants, but once we were off, that feeling left me ... until about mile 8, but that is beside the point. The first five miles everybody was pretty crowded on the trails. We had a bit of road running at first to sort of spread out before the trails, but still, when we hit the trail I was somewhat constrained by who was in front of me. Passing wasn't easy. The first few miles were easy, with mostly flat terrain. I just picked an easy pace, knowing that I had a long way to go. Weather was ideal, high 50's and low 60's. We ran around a lake at the first, and it was foggy, giving way to a very serene, mystic morning. It was very quiet, other than runners breathing and their footsteps. It may sound weird, but it was a crazy cool couple of miles. I felt like William Wallace from Braveheart, minus a huge sword ... and a kilt.

Miles 4-8 -- We hit a small aid station being manned by Boy Scouts at mile 3.7, with some water, bannanas, pretzels, Gu's, and sports drinks ... oh yeah, and salt and raw potatoes. Apparently raw potatoes and salt are good for those few hearty souls doing 40 miles that day. Anyway, immediately after the aid station we began our almost 5 mile ascent up the mountain ... about 3,600 feet of elevation gain. Running quickly turned into a power hike up the mountain. You could tell those who weren't ready for the climb because they quickly faded. I was going strong the entire way up the mountain, even running in spots that weren't too steep. Again, I tried to take it easy knowing I had a long way to go.

Miles 9-13 -- At the top of the mountain we had to check in at a small aid station before our descent. Now, one would think that coming down the mountain would be easy and fun, as I did. However, that is not the case. While it's easy to go fast, I soon realized that I had to control how fast I came down the mountain so as to not injure myself by stepping on a rock or root, or going off the trail on a sharp switchback. After about 3 miles, my legs felt like they were going to explode ... no, seriously, I thought they were going to blow up! They were full of blood and they were huge ... kinda liked that part, actually! Ok, just kidding. Anyway, even though I was trying to control myself going downhill, I was still going too fast. How do I know this? Easy, when you trip and hit the ground, roll down the hill a couple of times, and end up laying on your back looking up through the trees, you instantly know you were going too fast. Yes, that happened! Fortunately, it didn't hurt, and more importantly, nobody was around to see me fall. By this point in the race, things had spread out a bit and I was mostly alone, which I loved. I definetly started feeling my energy levels being depleted through this point of the race. I had not really been able to train on steep terrain, so it was taking a lot of energy for me to run up and down that mountain. Plus, given the fact that I wasn't the most dedicated in my training, this shouldn't be a surprise to anyone! Anyway, the race was comprised of a 13 mile loop, so at mile 13 I came through the starting line to check in, restock my supplies, and head out again. It took me 2:25, which put my on pace for a 5:00 finish, about what I expected. Here's me half-way through the race.
Miles 13-17 -- After a quick pit stop, I was back out. This time, I pretty much had the trail to myself. We started with about 80 runners, but only about 30 runners went further than a half-marathon, or 2 loops. It was a little too lonely ... and a little depressing knowing what I had left to do to be done. The last few miles before coming into the half-way mark were surprisingly difficult, and I felt about as tired at this point as I had at the end of my longest training run, which was 20 miles. This was not a good sign. Again, these miles were the easiest of the loop, so I was able to just kind of move along at about the same pace as I had the first time through. The fog was gone, but it was still beautiful and peaceful.

Miles 18-22 -- I hit the aid station right before the climb. The Boy Scouts wished me luck and told me I was looking "strong." That's a lie ... but hey, it made me feel good. This time around, I power-hiked the entire stretch. I knew there was no way I'd make it if I actually tried to run any uphill portion of this. Again, I moved along at a pretty good pace. While I was "walking," some old guy came up behind me. We chatted for a bit, then he asked to pass me. I told him good luck, and that I'd see him at the finish line. He responded with "only if you're doing all 40!" Meaning, he was running a 40 mile ultramarathon, and he was passing me ... and he was in his late 40's! Sort had myself a little humble pie at this point. Nonetheless, I was running my own race. Fortunately, he was the only one to pass me going up the hill. I was getting pretty anxious to reach the top, but it seemed to drag on forever. I was getting pretty tired, and was starting to feel a good burn in my legs and lungs. During this stretch I started getting some random aches and pains in my back and shoulders, mostly from my backpack ... and the grind of going so far. I pulled some Advil out of my backpack and carried on to the check-in station on the top of the moutain.

Miles 22-Finish -- After checking in, I pulled out my cell phone to call Adele and give her an idea as to how far away I was so she could time to meet me at the finish. I sorta felt like a dork pulling out a cell phone in the middle of a race in the middle of the woods, but hey, nobody could see me, so I didn't care. I started down the hill and quickly caught up to another runner who was going a bit slower than I wanted to go, but I didn't dare pass and then not be able to run fast enough to "justify" the pass, so I settled in behind him for a bit during the steepest part of the descent. All I can say about the next 3 miles is "holy canoly!" My legs were killing me! I had nothing left in my legs, and I could feel the lactic acid starting to buil up in them. At this point, my knees and hips started to ache quite a bit, and I just tried to put the pain out of my mind and run ... to sorta zone out ... and it seemed to work. Pretty soon the guy pulled over to walk and I passed him and kept going. My pace was slowing, but I kept pushing knowing I didn't have to run for a long time after the race, so I could afford to hurt for several days.

I passed this guy at about mile 24, so I had a little more than 2.5 miles left, which at this point, seemed like a whole other marathon! From this point on I was running pretty close to another runner about my same age. We kept passing each other all the way into the finish. His legs were locking up and cramping on him, so he couldn't run at times. I could feel myself almost getting there, so I chose to walk to try to prevent it. It worked ... well, at least my legs didn't lock up during the race. I hit a final aid station at about mile 25, and I promised the Boy Scouts a rank advancement if they'd carry me in to the finish line, but they wouldn't! Booo! Anyway, I had lots of thoughts during this last little bit ... most suicidal, and thoughts about not seeing my family again, about why was I so dumb for doing this in the first place ... you know,thoughts like that. I had hit a literal "wall" on my descent up the mountain, so I was hating life pretty good at this point. I kept chugging and finally finished in 5:25. It took me 25 minutes longer the second loop, which I didn't mind, considering I was just happy to finish.

Coming in to the finish line.

Being greeted by the race director as I crossed the finish line.

A little celebratory kiss!

Yes, I am in pain ... as Ava literally runs circles around me. Sad thing is, I was running about as fast as she was the last few miles..

This is what people look like when they can't feel their legs!

My dust "tan" line in all it's glory.

All in all, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. In fact, I'm going to do a couple of these next year. Even though the physical punishment of running 26.2 miles in the mountains is pretty intense, the sense of accomplishment and the mental stamina required left me with an incredible feeling of pure satisfaction. Marathons have an ability to take your body to the edge ... to a place you've never visited unless you've "been there and done that," and helps you know what the phrase "mind over matter" really means. Even though I "felt" that race for many days in my body, the mental aspects of it never will leave.