A few days following my first 50-miler at the Rocky Raccoon 50 Trail Run in Texas, I was pretty sore. Like really sore. Stairs were a burden and trying to stand up felt like a Brobdingnagian challenge. But I did this to myself, and I had no right to complain when there are myriad other men, women, and children that had no choice when it came to their own pain and suffering. If you're ever in pain during or after a run, think about that.
On Monday, I started to get that familiar "what's next?" feeling. I was in peak shape and knew that my next adventure had to be to tackle the big one: a 100-miler. A quick Google search revealed the whens and wheres of the races. And there it was. March 8th in the OBX. It nearly jumped off the page, and here's why.
At the beginning of 2012, my wife, Kate, and I moved to Nags Head. We packed up and went to live with one of my best friends and his fiancee who had moved to OBX the previous year. We shared a house just off of Beach Road (Hwy 12). But after 8 months, we decided we wanted our own house and to be closer to our family back in York, PA. I thought moving back home and working for the family business was the right thing to do. At the time, it was, but now I'm at the same place I was when we first decided to move away: unsure of what I want to do and where I want to love. But that's the stuff for another post.
Anyway, back to the 100-miler. It's called the Graveyard 100 and it runs the entire length of Highway 12 (where the highway starts in Corolla to where the highway ends 100 miles later in Hatteras). Although I had fallen in love with trail running and the Graveyard 100 was a road race, it seemed like a (near) perfect first 100-miler. The route traveled past our old house in Nags Head where I logged hundreds of miles two years ago, and it was a flat course. So on Tuesday, I began thinking if it was possible (physically running the race and logistically getting to the race), and the answer was an overwhelming yes.
I opened my spreadsheet which contained my 50-miler training schedule, added four weeks, and figured out what my next run would be. Figuring that a 100-miler would, at least, take me into the following day, I quickly realized I would need to get a few night runs in to physically and mentally prepare myself for the fatigue and darkness I would undoubtedly encounter. So I decided to head out for a long night run on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. I checked the weather and saw Southern Pennsylvania was going to be hit with yet another snow storm. The weather peeps were calling for 10-14 inches of snow beginning at 10 pm on Tuesday night. Sweet.
At 11:30 pm, after a cup of coffee and a Clif bar, I drove down to the Heritage Rail Trail and started my run at midnight. The trail was covered in snow with uneven ice grooves from where people had trampled along the trail. The night was clear and the moon reflected off of the snow-covered ground, so there was no need for a headlamp. There were 4-wheeler tracks that I could run down which helped my get into some semblance of a rhythm. After the first three miles, I came across a large oak that had fallen across the trail. I crawled through the icy limbs, hopped over the trunk, and kept running. What I didn't know is that this tree would be the first of roughly 30 trees that would block the trail every 100 yards or so. After about 8.5 miles of slipping and sliding down the trail and climbing up and over fallen trees, the 4-wheeler tracks ended and the trail was untouched. I tried to keep running, but with each step, I crunched through the top of the frozen snow and sunk down half a foot. Kind of fun but kind of annoying. So I turned around and headed back to where I had parked.
By this time, the snow was really coming down (about 1.5" an hour), and my footprints were completely covered. I was wearing my AK Race Vest with a 70 oz. CamelBak in the back, but the tube had frozen during the first hour so hydration was non-existent. After 13 miles, I was pretty exhausted. The trail conditions had worsened considerably and the groove I had found on the way out had disappeared. I only covered 17 miles in 3:30, but it was a physically and mentally tough run considering the snow, wind, and time of day. I cleaned off my car and drove back home. Kate was sleeping on the couch when I arrived and let out a few sleepy sighs, letting me know she heard me come in, and then dozed back off. After a hot shower and water, I crawled into bed a little after 5 am.
I woke up around 8:30 am, went downstairs to my computer, and registered for the Graveyard 100. I knew that the snowy, midnight run I had completed a few hours before was exactly what I needed to build some mental toughness for a 100-miler. OBX, here I come.
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